My name, barely audible, slipped out of Bren's mouth.

"Madie..."

Kissing the sensitive spot beneath his ear, I appreciated the way his breathing hitched as my lips grazed his skin.

I kept kissing his neck as I slid back down, allowing my hand to fall at the same time, trailing it over his chest. I dug my nails in just a bit, and Bren made a throaty noise before reciprocating. His fingers flexed, grabbing at my hip.

My hand fell further, gripping his shirt right above where it was tucked into his waistband, and Bren let go of me.

Just as I was about to slip my hand lower, Bren's fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist. I glanced up to see his brown eyes flash a shade darker. His pupils dilated. In a husky voice, he said, "Be good, Madeline."

"I don't care if they're watching," I whispered.

Bren said that I'd been torturing him, but he had no idea how imprisoned I felt by the desire coursing through my body. By this point, it went beyond reason. All I wanted was for him to kiss me and set me free.

He held my eyes. "You're not the one that..." Cutting short, he laughed breathily and shook his head. Releasing my wrist, he ran his hand through his hair. "God, Madie," he groaned, although his expression was one of amusement.

Peering back down at me, Bren cupped my face and ran his thumb along the seam of my lips. He struggled to look away from my mouth, but when he did, he muttered, "They might have dimmed the lights, but it isn't that dark in here. And there's the small problem of the hard-on you're gonna give me if you keep touching me like that. If you keep kissing me like that."

The corner of my mouth kicked up. "You mean the big problem."

At that, Bren threw his head back and laughed.

I smiled, too, but I wasn't lying. The thought had me clenching my thighs together on the dance floor.

Luckily, Bren didn't seem to notice. Instead, he swept me into his arms once more, muttering how much he missed me. And then Bren—whether it was a conscious decision or not—decided to give a different kind of show.

The music had switched from Grayson's live piano to a sultry singer backed by seductive beats. Bren rocked me to it, holding me lovingly for a moment. But then I was being spun away from him, twirling across our small corner of the ballroom. A smile spread across my face when Bren pulled on my hand, and I whirled back into him.

I slammed into his hard chest, and my smile slipped away. As soon as our bodies hit, the air vanished from my lungs. He felt so good against me like this. It wasn't something to smile about; it was something to bite your lip about.

I'd forgotten what happens when we dance.

Bren swayed us, letting his hands travel up my sides. I shivered and glanced to find him staring longingly down at me. He lowered his head, daring to dangle his lips over mine as he graced the underside of my breasts with his wandering hands. The heat between us made it hard to breathe, but I supposed I didn't need my own air. I had his.

Just when I thought Bren would give in and drop a kiss, he spun me away. Despite a flare of annoyance, I laughed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bren's little smile as he watched me. Practically forced into a pirouette while clutching onto his fingertips, I had to hold onto my skirts to keep from tripping.

Not that I thought Bren would ever let me fall.

This time when he spun me again, Bren captured my back against his chest, hugging me tightly. But that only lasted about two seconds—two gut-melting seconds—until Bren flipped me back around. He held me at arm's length, continuing our dance.

He was only letting himself hold me for as long as he could handle. And we were down to seconds now. More than a few of them and neither of us was going to make it. We weren't going to make it to the end of the night.

So I wasn't surprised when he pulled me close one last time to softly say, "Let's join the others for dessert." He brushed the words over my mouth. "Before I do something I'll regret."

I nodded, but Bren could see my thoughts.

Do something you'll regret.

Bren chuckled lowly. "Don't look at me like that. It's not helping."

He led me back to the table. Bren dropped into his chair, and I let go of his hand so I could go to my seat by Nessa.

I didn't make it very far.

Beau popped up in front of me, motioning his spot so that I could sit next to Bren. "Madie, here you go."

I didn't see church-basement-girl, who'd been sitting next to Beau before, so I was going to take him up on it. But Bren cut in.

"That's not necessary." He grabbed my hand again. Bren gave it a tug, and I flew toward him. With a little gasp, I landed in his lap.

Beau shook his head with a smile before sitting back down. A few minutes later, church-basement-girl reappeared and took her place next to him. I tried not to stare at her as we started on our cake, but it was hard. It was hard because even though I was trying so hard to hate her, she was really—ugh—nice. And she seemed to be the cause of Beau's giddiness as he pulled out his flask and offered it around the table.

Meanwhile, Bren's hand had slipped beneath the slit in my dress, his fingers rubbing circles on my thigh. And then he just kept talking. To Beau, to Nessa, even freaking Jonathon.

He was smiling wider than I'd seen in such a long time. And laughing. Every time he laughed or even muttered a word, I felt it on the back of my neck. His breath caressed my skin, and his fingers didn't stop their torturous assault on my skin. The pattern would change—back and forth, circles, strokes—but he didn't stop touching me.

Each time he shifted in his chair, his unoccupied hand would grip my waist to steady me. And I felt him. All of him. His hands, his chest against my back, his muscular legs beneath me.

How was he doing this? How was he carrying on a normal conversation while my body was absolutely burning?

Bren's fingers slipped to a sensitive spot on my inner thigh, and I barely withheld a groan. Memories teased my mind, and my damn body instantly reacted, throbbing at the thoughts. I couldn't help but remember all of the things that Bren could do with those fingers. The way I've ridden those fingers. The way I've danced on those fingers.

"Tell me what you're thinking about," Bren suddenly muttered in my ear, and the darkness of his voice matched my thoughts. Shit, my brain was a dark, hazy, lusty mess.

"I—" Heat rose on my face, and I was glad that he couldn't see it. "I'm not thinking about anything," I muttered over my shoulder.

Bren's quiet chuckle made my toes curl. "Don't lie, baby."

When my words caught in my throat, and I didn't reply, Bren leaned even closer. His lips tasted the back of my ear.  His leg shifted and tensed beneath me. "I can feel you, Madeline."

"Feel me?" I repeated breathlessly, keeping my voice down as I peeked back at him. Sharp brown eyes bored into mine. I wasn't sure what it was about the mask, but everything about Bren's gaze seemed exaggerated. There was a dangerous mix of love and desire swirling there, and I wondered how I was supposed to resist him when he looked at me like that.

His fingers abruptly stopped their slow caress, and he gave my thigh a squeeze at the exact moment my body pulsed with need. "I can feel you," he repeated slowly. Then Bren squeezed my thigh again, matching the beat of the undeniable throbbing between my legs, and I had to swallow a moan.

His hand disappeared from my skin, and I was admittedly disappointed. But his grip thankfully reappeared on both sides of my waist. After digging his fingers in a bit, Bren pulled me back on his lap, so my ass slid against his erection.

"Can you feel me?" he asked, his voice slightly muffled by my hair.

God, yes.

I didn't trust myself to speak, especially since I'd caught Nessa's eye, and she was smirking across the table at us. So I simply nodded, exceedingly aware that Bren was now breathing heavily as he kissed the back of my neck.

And then he said firmly, "Fuck it. We need to go."

"Where?" I asked on a breathy sigh. Back to campus? A twenty-minute drive seemed far too long right now.

"Upstairs," Bren said.

"Upstairs?" I repeated. My brain wasn't working.

"I got us a room."

I whipped around to look at him. "Here?" This place was crazy expensive.

Bren nodded, a slow smile slipping onto his face.

Lord, that smile. That simmering smile was promising all sorts of things that only made my heart beat faster. Everything beat faster.

His eyes trailed over me, and he muttered, "You're really going to have to tell me what you're thinking about." His voice lowered as he added, "Actually, better yet...show me."

I wasn't going to argue with that.

🤍
I'm not going to argue either.

xoxo amelie