She turns to me, eyes wide with surprise, the little hot dog in her hands. “Dance?”

I laugh. Her mouth is full, and she is obviously going for her second one. “Hungry?”

She swallows. “These are delicious. I need to convince my dad to sell some at the restaurant.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Her eyes darken. “A dance?”

I extend my hand and wait as she sets the appetizer on a napkin, wipes her hands, and joins me on the dance floor. By the time she twirls into my arms, my heart is pumping as if I’m about to play for the Stanley Cup.

I haven’t made it to the finals yet, which is a big part of the reason I’m looking to transfer. LA is rebuilding their team, and they have a strong bunch of up-and-comers. I want to be one of them—at least, I did until I met Andi.

“Where’d you learn how to dance?” she asks, leaning her head against my chest.

I cinch my hands tighter across her back. “Prom.”

We’re slow dancing, spinning in a circle and barely moving our feet. It’s not as if I’m talented or particularly skilled in this arena; I just try not to stand still or twirl too quickly. There aren’t that many ways to screw up a slow dance.

As I inhale the vaguely familiar scent of her shampoo, it’s impossible not to get turned on; I can’t help it. Her hands, tiny in comparison to mine, clasp my shoulders a bit more firmly than necessary. She takes these little breaths that make it sound like she’s excited, and when she looks up at me, it’s like I’m the only person she can see.

Without a doubt, I know I’m the lucky one.

“What are you thinking?” she murmurs. “You look so serious.”

I blink, and let a smile come to my lips. “I must have been concentrating.”

“On what?”

“The way you look.”

“Oh?” It’s neither a question nor a statement, simply an exhale of breath in the shape of an O.

“You’re gorgeous.”

“You’re pretty handsome yourself,” she says, her hands tightening around my neck. “Kiss me, handsome.”

It’s the easiest request. My arms slide around her back, holding her close, my hands barely skimming her lower back. I’d try to cop a better feel of her ass, but my parents are in the room, and I know it’d make Andi uncomfortable. So, I settle for a peek of her cleavage instead.

Then I lean into her. Her lips are soft, tasting of strawberries, cream, a hint of champagne, and I’m lost in the kiss for the rest of the song. We make out straight through the break between songs, and when the next song starts—a fast-paced rap number, probably by Kanye—we continue slow dancing.

She lets out the smallest moan, and it’s nearly enough to make me take her into a closet and have my way with her. I haven’t had so many uncontrollable boners since I turned fourteen. That was a rough year because I had a smoking hot biology teacher, but this is worse. A million times worse. That biology teacher couldn’t hold a candle to the woman in my arms now.

“Andi,” I whisper, pushing her up-do away from her ear, dotting tiny kisses across her neck. I’ve never understood the phrase wanting to eat someone up—it sounds weirdly cannibalistic—but right now, I want to eat her up, she smells so good. “I want to take you home, or to the car, or…you name it. I want you.”

She flicks her tongue in the most erotic kiss, and I forget that my parents are in the room. I’m ready to lay her on the buffet table and have her for dessert.

“You’re going to have to wait,” she says, a hint of a tease, a giggle bubbling in her throat. “I like this game.”

I grip her hips firmly and pull her close to me. We’re disguised somewhat by the bobbing, throbbing group of dancers grinding around us. I let her feel me against her, and I hold nothing back. “This isn’t a game, honey.”

Her eyes are beacons of light on the dance floor, and her face flushes with desire. “Wow,” she murmurs. “That is…”

“You don’t even understand,” I say. “We need to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

“But—”

“You don’t understand. I need you.”

“Where can we go?”

I press my mouth against hers, sliding my tongue between her lips. That simple answer is the sexiest thing she could’ve said. As much as we need to get out of here, I can’t resist making her mine for the world to see. It’s hot, a lightning strike of passion.

“Come on,” I say. “I know a place—”

“May I have this dance?” An ice-cold voice cuts through the pulsating music. “Good to finally meet you. Andi, isn’t it?”

Jocelyn. In this moment, she’s The Bitch. No offense to ladies everywhere, but I’ve been cockblocked so hard I’m aching in the most sensitive places. Jocelyn knows what she is doing, too; I see it in her eyes.

She’s pleased with herself, the monster. Doesn’t she understand the meaning of blue balls? Anyway, it’s more than that. It’s not about my dick, for once; it’s about Andi. It’s about me needing to be with her, to satisfy her every desire. I want to get the hell away from the public, this wedding, and most of all, Jocelyn.

“Oh, sure,” Andi says, her eyes cloudy with lust. She shakes her head, presumably to clear her thoughts, and takes a step back. “You’re… You must be Jocelyn.”

“I am.” She says this as if everyone should know who she is. “Thanks, Andi. I’ll return him to you shortly.”

“We were about to leave,” I tell Jocelyn, giving her my best death stare, holding on to Andi’s hand so she can’t leave. “I’m sorry, this will have to wait until another time.”

“It’s okay, really,” Andi says, wiggling away from me with a quick smile, one that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I, um, I’m hungry. I’ll grab another appetizer.”

I take a step around Jocelyn to follow Andi and reach for her hand. “Wait.”

“I really think this is the best time,” Jocelyn calls after me. “Surely whatever you were planning to do can wait one minute?”

The song changes to a slow song right at that moment. “No,” I growl. “Unfortunately, it can’t wait.”

Jocelyn gives a pointed look at my crotch. “Really?”

I’m on the verge of exploding from the frustration, anger, and sexual tension. It’s all I can do to clamp my mouth shut and not tell Jocelyn what she can do with her manipulative little tricks.

“Really, Ryan, it’s okay,” Andi assures me. “I’m going to congratulate the new Pierce couple. Find me by the bar afterward.”

I begin to argue, but she raises her eyebrows and shoos me away with her hand. She’s a champion for putting up with Jocelyn, and she’s handling it better than I would if some guy asked her to dance. I’d punch him in the face and ask questions later. That’s why Andi’s a better person than I’ll ever be.

“What the hell?” I turn to Jocelyn. “You need to talk to me right fucking now?”

She very lightly puts her hands on me. Her fingers are long, slim, and feel like tentacles of ice on my shoulders. I grudgingly put the tips of my fingers on her waist—too high to insinuate anything sexual, too low to be considered a hug. I feel like I’m in friggin seventh grade, trying to slow dance without getting screamed at by the teachers.

“Language,” she says. “When I sign you, you’d better learn to control it. I’m not signing you so I can run around cleaning up your—pardon my French—fucking messes.”

“I was busy.”

“I see that. It’s quite obvious.”

I grit my teeth. “Why are you here?”

I know why she’s here. She and Lawrence are friends, and it’s because of their relationship that I got a meeting with her in the first place.

“I know your brother, obviously. Don’t ask stupid questions. Do you see what I mean? When you start thinking with your dick, you lose track of your brain.”

“Shouldn’t you be over talking to Lawrence and Lilia?”

“I paid my respects. I have a flight to catch in several hours, and I wanted to say my goodbyes first.”

“Goodbye,” I say, turning away.