spread from her fingertips down his torso and wrapped around the base of his cock. When her softly rounded belly brushed against the slight rise beneath his fly, she gave a slow, wicked smile. “You’re glad to see me then.”
“Yeah, I am.”
The song ended and the DJ started another slow ballad.
Finn rested his hands on Keira’s hips. “Dance with me,” he murmured in a voice gone low and raspy with desire. When she nodded, he pulled her even closer. This was his kind of dancing. Nothing too fancy, just the shuffling of feet and the brushing of bodies against each other.
She twined her arms around his neck, fingers still sifting through his hair. The motion sent darts of sensation throughout his body. She shifted nearer, the tips of her breasts brushing his chest. Her high heels put her at cheek level with his jaw, and she rested her face against his.
Her skin was like satin against his stubble-covered jaw. He drew in a breath, enjoying the light floral scent of her hair. She was the essence of femininity—soft, seemingly delicate—yet every once in a while she’d get a look in her eye that made him think of Boadicea, the fiery Briton queen. He had no doubt Keira would be fierce in a fight.
He knew from experience she could be fierce in bed.
The feel of her in his arms made him ache to slide her beneath him on the closest horizontal surface. Or up against a wall. Finn slid his hands to the small of her back and linked his fingers, pulling her closer. He focused on the woman in his arms, the warmth of her body against his, the softness of her skin beneath his palms. He drew in a breath, trapping the fresh scent of her shampoo in his nostrils before he exhaled.
Her fingers continued combing through his hair. With each stroke his muscles tightened. Going horizontal was looking better and better. To regain some control, Finn drew back a smidgin and glanced around the club for potential contacts. He had to focus on something else or he’d end up dragging her out of the club like some Neanderthal. Any other time that wouldn’t have bothered him, but tonight he had other things he had to accomplish. He couldn’t forget his mission, though this sensual woman surely made him want to. Even as his eyes searched the crowd, his mind replayed images of Keira stretched out beneath him in bed, her slender body naked to his gaze, his touch. He drew in a shuddering breath and fought to rein in his rampaging libido.
The song ended, and Keira stepped back from him. He took one of her slender hands in his. Want to get a drink? he meant to say, but what came out was, “Come home with me.”
She tipped her head to the side, one delicate eyebrow climbing.
“For drinks,” he hurried to add. He could tell by her expression that she was thinking what he was. The temptation for more was there. And, like him, she looked like she was about to give in.
Her lips parted, her gaze bright with agreement. Then her eyes flicked to something over his shoulder and she said, “Rain check? There’s someone I need to talk to.” Genuine regret colored her sultry voice.
Finn gave a nod. “Sure, no problem.”
She stroked her hand down his cheek and let her fingertips linger on his lips. Then she went up on her toes, moving her fingers aside to press her mouth against his. He parted his lips, allowing her inside, tangling his tongue with hers. God, she tasted good. Better than good. She tasted of sweet honey but with a tartness that was unexpected yet welcome.
“I’ll see you later,” she whispered against his mouth. Another lingering kiss, then she brushed her hand across his shoulder as she walked past him.
Finn turned and watched her head toward the back of the club. Because of the crowd he couldn’t see who her target was, and soon the crush of bodies forced him to move off the dance floor.
He couldn’t take his gaze off the auburn-haired woman who was pure temptation. Still watching Keira, his mood soured. Scowling, he realized his interest in being at the club had waned, but as much as he wanted to get the hell out of there, he had work to do.
Keira glanced over her shoulder to see Finn staring at her. He’d shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, the broad shoulders