The Rivals - Dylan Allen Page 0,39

have these big hands, isn’t it?” I murmur in her ear. I lead her slowly onto the dance floor and point down at my feet.

“Climb on.” I hold out my upturned hands to her.

She gives me a slightly skeptical smile before she says, “Okay. But you better not let me fall,” she warns and then she puts one foot on top of mine.

“Never,” I say and tighten my grip on her waist.

The song starts to fade and the next one starts. I startle.

“Oh, my goodness, is this Elvis?” she asks as she places the ball of her silver ballet-slippered foot onto my other.

“He’s very popular in Europe,” I say and smile as the strains of the song “Can’t Help Falling in Love” start to play. I look up to the ceiling of the tent and thank my dad for the sign.

I slip both of my arms around her waist and draw her into me. The bodice of her dress has a V down the front that stops a few inches above her belly button. The one in the back is just as deep and twice as wide. She looks like an entire meal tonight.

I slide one hand up the expanse of velvet skin of her back and wrap the other around her waist.

“Slip your arms around my neck,” I murmur. She does it slowly, her eyes on my mouth as her fingers link behind my neck.

Now, we’re chest to chest, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, and cheek to cheek. Elvis is crooning about wise men and fools. This unexpectedly wonderful woman amazes me. And I can’t help but nod in agreement when he sings, “some things are meant to be.”

I lean in, brush a kiss across her soft, pliant lips. The touch pulses. The air is vibrating with attraction and the pull between us is a living thing.

“Do you feel that?” she asks, her voice full of innocent wonder.

My short beard brushes the soft, sweetly fragrant skin of her cheek.

“Yeah, I do.”

“I think it’s the air and the water. It’s so beautiful here,” she says softly. She drops her head on my shoulder. I glare down and her eyes are closed. A small smile pulls at her lips.

“I think it’s us,” I whisper in her ear and drag my lips to that dimple and drop a kiss on it. “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you,” she replies with a drowsy smile, and I laugh dismissively. I step back and forth, my hand at her waist tightening to hold her flush against me.

“Not one single person has ever called me that before.” I laugh.

Her eyes pop open and cast a haze of desire that traps me in its azure net. My heart jerks in my chest, and the laughter dies in my throat.

“Then, they must not have been looking at you at all,” she whispers. Then, she takes my big hand into her much smaller, much prettier one, puts it to her delicious lips, and drags a kiss across my knuckles.

I’m moving in a small circle of slow two-steps. The music blends in with the rest of the background noise, and all I hear is the beating of my heart and the thud of my racing pulse in my ears.

There’s a storm brewing between us. It’s loud and it builds in a slow stream of tension that’s permeating the air.

I feel it in my racing pulse.

I feel it in the tingle at the base of my spine.

And when she sways into me, she feels it in the ardent pressure of my rock-hard dick between us.

“Oh my God,” she gasps, and twines her fingers into the hair at the base of my neck.

Without a single thought for propriety or gossip, I bend and slip my arm under her knees and lift her in my arms.

A loud cheer goes up in the crowd as I shoulder my way through the dance floor and out of the tent.

“Oh my Lord, what are you doing?” she asks in a whoop of laughter as she tightens her arms around my neck.

“I’m taking you to the closest room with a door. When we get there, I’m going to throw up that skirt and take off whatever’s underneath it and fuck you,” I growl before I kiss her hard and fast.

We step into the carpeted lobby of the villa and scan the room until I see a swinging door with the light off inside. I head straight for it.

“This is crazy,” she gasps into my neck. “I feel like