Oh.He wants to dance.Speaking of missing clues…
Like I’m a middle schooler at her first dance, my heart melts. Rider wants to dance. With me.
Don’t catch all the feelings, Gabriela. Just enjoy tonight.
My pulse ratchets up as I hold up a finger, chug the rest of my beer, and toss the empty cup into the large bin in the corner.
I step up to him. His hands grip my waist. I stare at the wall of man in front of me.
He laughs, his voice deep and sultry. “Are you going to touch me or are you waiting for an invitation?”
For some reason, that makes me respond like a smartass. “Do I need an invitation?”
He shakes his head. “Not at all. You can touch me anytime you want.”
Gah!
I place my hands on his shoulders, and our bodies align as we move to the sexy beat.
I have to crane my neck to look up as he looks straight down and slays me with that smile.
“You’re too tall for me,” I lament, my lips tugging up.
He lowers his mouth until it almost whispers over mine. “I’d say you’re the perfect height.”
We move to the music while I cop a feel of those incredible shoulders. He’s a perfectly sculpted mountain. All muscle and sinew and strength.
Rider was tall as a freshman, but he’s put on at least twenty pounds of pure muscle since then and grown a few inches. The boy I kissed when I was eighteen is nowhere in sight. The person in front of me is one hundred percent man.
His eyes darken with every shift of my hips to this sultry beat.
This close, I can smell his sexy cologne and the clean scent of his skin.
At first, there’s a little space between us, but when someone bumps into me from behind and pushes me into Rider, he keeps me there, his hands tightening on my back.
My breath catches. We’re hip to hip, chest to chest, with my breasts pushed up against him. Like this I can feel his length, proud and thick and long, up against my stomach. I almost choke on air at the size of him.
Every slide of his body against mine is electric.
I rest my face against him and breathe him in and try to calm the frenzied beat of my heart.
But then I hear it. His heart. Pounding almost in time with mine.
We go on like this. One song. Then another. Until that pulse has snaked down between my thighs where it taps out a staccato beat.
A few minutes later, Tank’s voice calls out over the sound system, “Hey, Bronco-Nators! How ’bout that win today?”
Everyone starts cheering.
“Where’s the man? You know who I’m talking about! The man, the king, the legend! Rider Kingston, get yo’ ass over here!”
People start chanting, “All hail the king!”
It’s a little ridiculous, this crazy adulation, but I’m so happy he’s getting the recognition he deserves for busting his tail.
Rider laughs as he pulls me to the other side of the room where his roommates have set up a DJ area. I don’t see my brother, but this place is packed.
When the guys spot Rider, they hoot and holler, and people start screaming. He wraps one arm around my shoulders and pumps up the other one, and the crowd goes crazy.
