The Auction Block (Agents of Interpol 1)

Page 40

Blake stands and holds his hand out. "Dance with me?"
I take a deep breath trying to process his request. Slowly, I place my hand in his, trembling, and he helps me to my feet. The room blurs for a second, tilting me to the left, slightly. He puts his other hand on my waist, steadying me.
He raises an eyebrow. "You okay?"
"I told you . . . . alcohol and me . . . bad idea."
At least I'm not slurring my words.
Blake leads us onto the dance floor, where we join at least forty other couples. We move across a small space, dancing together in a unified, fluid motion. As the first song ends, he lets go of me and we both clap for the band. Taking my hand in his again, placing his other on my waist, he tilts his head, gazing into my eyes. He looks confused.
"You dance well." He pulls my body tightly against his.
"So do you." I smirk.
The song is a slow, sensual number. Blake doesn't take his eyes off mine. In the back of my mind, it registers that I'm not shaking for the first time in nineteen years at a person's touch.
Must be the alcohol . . . this is a bad idea.
Liquid courage. I've never had courage in situations like this. When it wears off, I'll go back to being me . . . angry, scared, and untouchable.
"Have you been talking to Caleb about me through email?"
He chuckles low in his throat. "Yes, but I delete them just in case you get the urge to hack that to."
"Deleting them wouldn't stop me from finding them. You ought to just say to me the shit you say to him," I say, searching his eyes with mine.
"I didn't think you'd want me to," he whispers, his eyes on fire.
"I have no idea what I want anymore." I stumble over my own feet.
Blake tightens his grip, steadying me. Letting go of his hand, I slide mine up his shoulder, around his neck. He places his free hand on my waist with his other one, and presses his forehead against mine. My fingers move slowly up his neck, curling in his hair.
Why can't I be normal sober?
"Lily," he whispers.
My breath catches at the huskiness in his voice. Closing my eyes, I tilt my head. His lips meet mine— soft, warm, and wanting. His arms tighten around me, and I close my fist in his hair, the band's music hardly noticeable above my heart pounding in my ears. He runs his tongue along my bottom lip, and a quiet moan escapes from my throat, everything south of my belly button clenching.
Stop this now, before you regret it.
I pull away from him, gently. "I'm sorry . . . I— "
"Don't do that," he whispers sternly.
"Do what?"
"Blake . . . I shouldn't have . . . "
"Stop, Lily. Just let me enjoy being with you for tonight, okay?"
"Why are you attracted to me?" I gaze at him. Did I really just ask that?
He chuckles. "You’re unlike any woman I've met. Your attitude is something . . . no woman has ever dared speak to me the way you do."
"You like me because I have a smart mouth?" I raise an eyebrow.