Читать книгу The Road To Hell - Jackie Kessler - Страница 12

Okay. Deep breath, Jesse. Now is so not the time to panic.

Yeah, right.

I inhaled deeply, and sulfuric fumes scorched my nostrils. Grimacing, I squeezed my nose as if I could wring out the lingering odor of spoiled eggs. Why was it that my memory of brimstone was all warm and fuzzy, but in reality it made me sick? There really should be a support group for former demons that covered all this stuff.

Including how to handle it when Hell comes a-calling. Me and Michael Corleone: Every time we get out, they bring us back in.

Bless me, what were they doing to Meg?

No. I clenched my hands, my nails biting deeply into the soft flesh of my palms. Think about Meg after. First things first: Assess the damage.

Pulling my gaze away from the symbol burned into the floor, I glanced around the living room to see if anything else screamed “An Infernal Presence Was Here.” The black leather sofa and matching armchairs sandwiched a glass, black-framed coffee table—Modern Chic as defined by Ikea. Against the opposite wall, the black entertainment center housed a television, a stereo, and roughly a million CDs and DVDs. Over the sofa, three Nagels hung suspended, dressing up the white walls with stylized half-naked women. I always thought Paul had a fine eye for art.

From the look of the room, anyone would think the only visitor here lately was the cleaning lady. As long as they didn’t look down.

The hardwood floor was a smoking mess. Smack dab in the center, the pierced heart glowed faintly with dying red embers, giving it the illusion of winking. I gnawed my lower lip as I stared at the symbol. If Paul saw that when he came home, he’d…

Blinking, I realized I had no idea how he’d react. Just because we knew each other’s bodies intimately and wanted to do the growing-old-and-gray thing together, that didn’t mean I could read his mind. But given that the love of my life was a cop, I had a nagging suspicion he wouldn’t just shrug off a symbol burned into his living room floor as the price one paid for living in New York City.

Throwing one last look at the ruined floor, I scurried into the tiny kitchen and grabbed the receiver from its cradle on the wall. Wireless phones: proof that magic was all around us, slumming as technology. I hit the star button, the number 1, and then the talk button.

A moment later, a warmth-inducing deep voice said, “Paul Hamilton.”

“Heya, sweetie.”

“Hey.” I heard the smile in his voice, and it made my nipples ache. Bless me, he had such a sexy voice…and that smile, ooh…“I should be out of here in five, ten minutes.” His words were punctuated by the clacking of fingers on a keyboard. That’s my Cabin Boy—quite the multi-tasker. “Just have to finish up a bit more paperwork.”

“That’s okay,” I said, grateful that he’d missed the Erinyes. That would have made for an uncomfortable moment, to say the least. Paul, meet Alecto, Fury of Unceasing Anger. Mind the snakes—they bite. She’s here to take me back to Hell. By the way, I used to be a succubus.

“Say, I was thinking about bringing back some Chinese.”

“Great,” I said. “Listen, there’s something wrong with the floor.”

“Maybe some moo shu chicken, a couple egg rolls.”

“Fine. About the floor—”

“Or maybe Szechuan wontons. I know you like them hot enough to melt your tongue.”

“Sweetie, the floor’s sort of messed up.”

“Damn.”

Biting my lip, I ventured, “But I’m sure it can be fixed…”

“I just erased my last two paragraphs. Stupid keyboard.”

Huh?

“Look, Jess, I have to go. I keep screwing up the wording on this report. At this rate, I’m never getting out of here.”

“But what about the floor?”

“Call George. I’m sure floors are part of the call-the-super list.”

“Um, okay.” I wondered whether George would consider erasing a smoking, charred glyph as overtime. “I’ll do that.” Now that I thought about it, did I really want Paul to get involved in Alecto’s scheme, whatever it was? Non, nyet, nein, and fuck no. I shouldn’t have called him at all. Okay, I’d have George help me hide the symbol. No symbol, no questions from Paul.

“Hon?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s wrong with the floor?”

“Um. It’s probably nothing. Just some scratches.” In the pattern of a heart run through with a sword.

“Scratches can be fixed. Definitely call George. Star nine on speed dial. Let me go so I can finally get out of here and pick up dinner for us.”

“Thanks, sweetie.”

“Love you.”

That never failed to make my toes curl. “Love you too.” A ridiculous, lovestruck grin smeared across my face as I hung up the phone. It felt perfect.

Paul Hamilton loved me. No matter how bad my immediate future looked, for the moment, all was good.

That’s the crappy thing about good moments. They never last.

Five minutes after I called George, the man himself stood in Paul’s living room, scratching his head as he looked at the symbol. The super was one of those pear-shaped men that always look like they’re wearing a girdle but really aren’t. His paint-splattered overalls emphasized his curves in ways that would make Jessica Rabbit jealous. While his body wasn’t exactly a paragon of manliness, his mocha skin looked delicious enough to slurp. Beneath a white baseball cap, he had mounds of black hair. I wondered if it was soft or wiry, how it would feel as I ran my fingers through it.

I shook my head. Bad former succubus. No lookee, and definitely no touchee.

But ooh, his hair was so black that it gleamed with blue highlights. Maybe he had blue-black hair all over that pear shape. Maybe he was more like a kiwi, furry outside and so succulent and juicy inside…

Argh. Mental head slap. I’m a human. I’m in love with Paul. And I’m definitely not going to think about having sex with a man who had more curves than me.

“Weirdest thing I seen since I been working here,” George said, his accent a consonant-twisting combo of Brooklyn and Boston. “You say you found it like this?”

“Yeah.”

“And it wasn’t like this before you got in the bath?”

“No. I heard a noise, which is why I got out of the tub. And boom, there it was, right there on the floor.” Minus the visit from one of the three Furies, of course.

“So someone snuck in, burned that into the floor, and snuck back out, all before you got out of the bath.”

I did the Bambi Eyes thing. “Yes.”

“Huh.” His gaze slid to my cleavage. “You want, you can get dressed while I look at this closer.”

Whoops. I glanced down at my towel. Between being a demon of sex for four thousand years and working as an exotic dancer here on the mortal coil, I was used to parading around barely dressed. Actually, I preferred it. I kept forgetting that most people felt uncomfortable when they were naked.

Mental note: Learn modesty.

Looking back at the scorch marks, he asked, “You know who did this?”

“Nope.” Lying believably was one of those demon traits that I didn’t lose when I became human. Maybe I should go into politics.

“Huh.” He almost touched the mark, but he pulled his hand back. “Hey, this is still hot!”

“Fancy that. So can you paint over it?”

“Paint?” He shot me a look that said I was maybe as smart as a brain-dead louse. “You want me to paint over the wood floor?”

“Um. Of course not. I meant stain it.”

“Stain.”

A quick eye-roll on my part, then, “Look, I really need to either fix this or hide this. Can you do it?”

“Well,” he said, rubbing his chin, “maybe. Been a while since I been able to really work with my hands.”

Oooh. Wonder what those hands would feel like working on me…

Stop it, stop it, stop it! Focus, Jesse! “Terrific. So what, you could fix this in like five minutes, maybe?”

His mouth opened, closed. He shook his head. Maybe he was trying to figure out how to speak to me in small words. He took off his cap and wrung it between his hands. Finally he said, “See, I’m going to need a bunch of things. Paintbrush, tung oil, a cloth. Wire brush, maybe steel wool. And a pocketknife. First I need to see how deep the burns go and grind away the burned wood. Then I got to use the wire brush on it, real careful so I don’t got to do any sanding. Then I got to clean it all away with the paintbrush, dab on some oil, and see how it looks. Might have to smooth the whole thing down more with the steel wool.”

He paused, either for breath or for dramatic effect. Then he said, “So no, five minutes ain’t going to happen.”

“Fine,” I said. “Maybe ten?”

“Lady, you want to get rid of this in ten minutes? Cover it up with a rug.”

“Oh,” I said, brightening. “That’s smart. Can you get me one of those?”

With a pained look on his face, he said, “You don’t even live here, do you?”

I lifted my chin higher. “Of course I do.”

The pained look melted into suspicion.

“Sort of,” I amended. “Paul and I are in love.”

“Love.” He tugged his cap back over his hair, the rim shadowing his face…but not before I saw his dark eyes twinkle. “How sweet.”

Something in his voice made me frown, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I tried to sneak a peek at his aura, but all I got for my effort was eyestrain. I couldn’t read him. Crap. It figured that the spiffy magical ability I got along with my soul was defective. My talent was less dependable than a condom ten years past its expiration date.

He smirked at the charred heart on the floor. “And look, someone charbroiled their love for you. There’s a whole lot of loving going on.”

Unease bubbled in my stomach. Maybe I was crazy, but I thought the super lost his tough-guy accent. Clearing my throat, I asked, “So, can you help me?”

His smirk widened, and I noticed his teeth were stained from tobacco or coffee. “You really want my help?”

What I wanted was to give him a mad case of blue balls and then throw him out of the apartment; he was starting to seriously creep me out. But Paul would be home soon, and there was no way he could see the mess on the floor. Short of throwing my towel over it and distracting Paul with my womanly charms, I was out of ideas. So that meant I had to play nice with the super.

I turned on my Helpless Female smile, full strength. “Sweetie, I don’t just want your help. I need it.”

“Well now.” He turned to look at me, his gaze lost beneath the bill of his white baseball cap. He reached out and touched my hand, held it, gave a squeeze. “If you need it, of course I’ll give it to you.”

Either the innuendo in his words or his unexpected touch made me gasp. Hidden beneath my towel, my sex began to tingle.

His finger rubbed against my palm. Shocks of pleasure rippled beneath his touch, worked their way up my arm. “You’re sure you didn’t see the one who did this to the floor?”

My voice breathy, I said, “Positive.”

George chuckled, his voice rich and deep…and lush, almost thick enough to feel it dancing on my skin. With his free hand, he lifted the rim of his cap enough for me to see a soft red glow to his eyes.

“Babes,” said the demon inside the man, “you’re such a liar.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Daun?”

George grinned in a very wicked way. “In the borrowed flesh.”

Over the millennia, the incubus Daunuan had been the yin to my yang, the bump to my grind. Now that I was a human, his visit meant one of two things—he wanted sex, or he wanted something else along with the sex.

Before I could decide how to react to Daun’s presence, he pulled me to George’s body and clamped a hand on my bare shoulder. This close, I smelled the faintest hint of sulfur, but it was almost buried under the super’s aftershave and sweat.

“Heya, sweetie,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady and my sex drive in first gear. “This is a surprise.”

Pressed against the super’s torso, I was keenly aware that Daun was very, very happy to see me; his happiness jabbed me just above my belly.

“Been a while,” Daun whispered into my neck. I felt the tiny hairs there stand on end, teased by his breath. “Missed you lots. When George here swung by, I had to tag along.”

“How’d you manage that? He hang a sign up? ‘Thrill me, chill me, possess me, baby’?”

“George has a bit of a coke habit. I didn’t have to knock. He let me right in.”

“Ah.” Some mortals made it easy for demons to inhabit their bodies. Addicts of any sort were at the top of the list.

I felt him smile against my neck. “Ah’? Boring. Let’s go for ‘Oh.’”

His tongue trailed against the hollow of my throat. I groaned as a tingle worked its way through me, a soft humming in my belly and lower down. Bless me, how I’d missed his touch, his mouth, his—

The licks turned to kisses, and the tingle between my legs sparked into a full-blown electrical charge.

No, I thought, really wanting to howl a yippie-ki-yay. No, this was wrong.

What could be wrong? my body asked me. A little friendly foreplay, maybe an orgasm or two. What’s so bad about that?

He’s not Paul.

My body scolded me for getting a bout of morals at a distinctly inopportune time.

“Nice,” I said, the word nowhere close to describing how Daun was making me feel. “But it’s time to stop.”

I tried to push him away, but Daun held me tight. The hand on my shoulder moved down to my back, where it began to knead and press. I melted against him as he massaged away my protests. Stop, I wanted to say again, but every move of his fingers rubbed away pieces of my willpower, and all I could do was moan. His mouth worked its way up my neck, my jaw, my ear. He hit a doozy of a spot, and I let out a delighted squeal they must have heard three floors down.

Nuzzling against me, he said, “You really want me to stop? Babes, just say the word.”

My mouth opened, ostensibly to tell him to stop this right now, I refused to kanoodle with anyone who wasn’t my true love. I’d never know what I would have actually said, because he crushed his lips on mine, and my brain short-circuited.

It didn’t matter that his physical form was George’s—the lust was all Daun’s, and so were the moves. George’s hand unwrapped my towel, but it was Daun’s touch that pebbled my nipples, that made them ache for his mouth. No matter what shapes we’d worn over the millennia, Daun and I had always moved well together. Like now: his tongue rolled with mine as our saliva mingled; his hips rolled with mine as I bucked against him. One hand stayed on my back, pinning me, while the other fondled my breast, caressed its underswell, squeezed. I groaned, but his mouth ate the sound, swallowed it whole.

This was wrong, this was wrong, this was—

He broke the kiss to trail his tongue down my lips, my chin, my neck, down to the valley between my breasts. My breathing quickened as he cupped one full mound with his right hand, then slowly lapped his tongue over the curve of flesh.

It was wrong, but it felt so right.

His other hand released my back and slid between my legs. I groaned again, a mewling sound caught between a protest and a cheer. Daun took my swollen nipple into his mouth, encased it in wetness before he gave suck. And then his fingers slid between my labia, found my clit. Pressed.

I threw back my head and let out a cry of pure joy as my blood caught fire. He stroked me, relentless, insistent, and the blaze erupted into an inferno. Clutching his hair, I rocked my hips against him, faster, faster, my body moving with the force of the firestorm threatening to consume me. Cold air hit my nipple as he broke suction, but I was on fire, I was the fire, and cold air only coaxed me to burn hotter. Yes—oh, sweet Sin, yes…

Sizzling kisses, on my chest, my shoulder, my jaw. Nearly lost in my building climax, I almost didn’t hear Daun whisper in my ear: “Call my name.”

Ice water couldn’t have been more effective at shocking me out of my lustopia.

My senses on hyperdrive, I pulled away from him, even as my body sang a lament for its stillborn orgasm. Shaking, I grabbed the towel from the floor and moved backward, my eyes locked on Daun’s as if he were a snake poised to strike.

“Bastard,” I panted. “Couldn’t leave well enough alone?”

He shrugged, a bemused smile playing on his face. “I’m an incubus. What do you really expect?”

Wrapping the towel over myself until I was covered from armpit to knee, I said, “I expect you not to try to seduce me and steal my soul.”

“Oh, but babes,” he said, his eyes laughing, “do you know how rare it is for a succubus to actually have a soul?”

My teeth clenched, I said, “I’m not a succubus anymore.”

“No?” He lifted his fingers, which glistened with my juices. He slowly licked them, his heated gaze on mine. “You still taste like a succubus.”

I hugged myself, but I couldn’t stop shivering. “Go away, Daun.”

“What’s the matter, Jezzie? Oh, sorry. Jesse.” He flashed me a toothy smile. “I thought you needed my help. Remember?”

“I needed George. Not you.”

Still grinning, he spread his arms wide. “But I am George.”

“I said go away.”

“Fine. Be that way. Don’t ask for my help with the floor.” He paused. “Or with the Erinyes.”

My voice tight, I said, “What do you know about that?”

“Me? Why, I don’t know anything. You don’t need my help, remember?”

I closed my eyes, counted to ten. “You weren’t such a schmuck when I was a demon.”

He chuckled. “Actually, babes, I’ve always been this way. Once you got a soul, you lost your sense of humor. To say nothing of your sense of adventure. Or your sense of taste.”

I opened my eyes to find him right on top of me, one hand to my left, propped against the wall unit behind me, the other stroking my cheek.

Still rimmed with red, George’s brown eyes searched my face as if seeking answers. “You really love that flesh puppet with the big shoulders?”

Ignoring the husky male scent wafting from him, I said, “Yes.”

Daun smiled, but there was no humor in it. “Like I said, no accounting for taste. I have no idea why your former Queen’s still interested in you. You’ve gotten positively boring.”

Maybe my heart didn’t actually stop, but for a moment it was a close thing. The last time I’d seen Queen Lillith, she tried to kill me. If a cop hadn’t taken down her host body, she probably would have succeeded. “She’s back?”

“And badder than before. Completely healed too. Word is she’s looking for payback.”

All sorts of nasty images danced before my eyes like leprous ballerinas. “What’s she planning?”

“Now that would be telling.”

For a moment, I said nothing as I pictured shoving Daun into a ditch filled with starving pit bulls. “You really suck.”

His smile spread into a feral grin. “I know. I’m good at it. You certainly weren’t complaining. Wonder how your man would feel, knowing that his sexpot will always get wet for me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said coldly. “I’m with Paul.”

He shrugged, his grin still in place. “For now. But there will come a day when you won’t push me away, babes. And you’ll call my name willingly.” For a moment, red blazed in those brown eyes, a look that would have sent angels screaming for God to protect them. “And then you’ll be mine. Body and soul.”

Fuck.

“You’re so cute when you’re scared speechless,” he said. “Later, babes.”

The red in his eyes winked out, and George collapsed on top of me, knocking me to the floor. I grunted as I hit, and again as two hundred fifty pounds of dead weight landed on me.

Struggling to get George off of me, I cursed and screamed and kicked. None of that helped. He was out cold—side effect of a demon suddenly leaving its host body. With a snarl, I shoved him as hard as I could…and, to my surprise, he rolled off of me.

That’s when I saw Paul standing over me, arching an eyebrow.

I smiled as sheepishly as possible. “This really isn’t what it looks like.”

Cinching the knot on my bathrobe, I walked back into the living room. Paul stood by the front door, where he was showing out a very confused superintendent. The poor man had woken up completely dazed, his eyes glassy and fearful, not knowing where he was. Stitched onto George’s face had been a breathy combination of horror, embarrassment, and anxiety. I’d caught myself licking my lips, imagining what that fear would taste like on my tongue.

That’s when I’d excused myself to go throw on a robe. Screw me on Salvation Day, when would I stop thinking like a succubus? I didn’t want Hell in my life anymore. All I wanted was to be human, to spend my life with Paul, and to get a pair of killer shoes that cost less than Paul’s monthly rent. Was that really so much to ask?

Daun’s laughter echoed in my mind. You still taste like a succubus.

Shivering, I hugged my arms. Go away, Daun. I didn’t know if we still shared the psychic connection between all creatures of Lust; maybe I was only talking to a phantom voice in my head. But just in case there still was something linking us, I said it again: Just go away.

And maybe it was only my memory that answered me: You’ll be mine. Body and soul.

In your dreams, incubus.

No reply. Maybe I was only losing my mind. I could live with that.

I darted a look at the living room floor. The smoke and sulfuric fumes had dissipated, but the symbol of the Erinyes was still branded into the wood. Paul hadn’t mentioned it yet; I assumed he was waiting until we were alone before he applied the third degree. While that could be fun under the right circumstances (handcuffs, bedposts, and a blindfold), I had a feeling Paul would be more inquisitive than amorous.

Crap. What to do?

What a one-time succubus did best.

Pasting on my game face, I sauntered over to the symbol. After checking to make sure Paul wasn’t watching me, I planted my feet so that I stood in front of the brand, facing the front door. As Paul closed the door behind the super, I unknotted my belt and let the robe gape open.

Paul, half turning, caught my pose. Ahh, bless me, he was so gorgeous—his broad face, with sculpted cheeks and a strong jaw, spoke of strength; his small, expressive sea-green eyes spoke of poetry. And his fighter’s nose, broken at least once in his life, spoke of violence. Yum. His light brown hair was growing out; it curled down around his ears and covered the nape of his neck, and a stray lock did the Superman dangle on his brow, just above his right eye.

Ah, love, you could rescue me any time you wanted…

“If I didn’t know better,” he said, “I’d swear you were trying to distract me from something.”

I attempted to look innocent. Major eyelash batting ensued. “Who, me?”

Paul’s mouth quirked into a bemused grin. “You know, other guys would be horribly suspicious if they came home to find their girlfriend wrapped in a towel, on her back, with the super on top of her.”

“You forgot the part about the super being unconscious, and the girlfriend being pinned under his weight.”

“The story sounds better without that part.”

“Does the girlfriend look better without this part?” I let my robe drop to the floor, accidentally-on-purpose covering the symbol.

He chuckled as he strode over to me. “The girlfriend always looks amazing, with or without clothes.” Closing the distance between us in three steps, Paul loomed over me for a moment and rained a magnificent smile on me before he wrapped me in his deliciously strong arms and lifted me off the floor. His mouth sealed itself to mine as he kissed me, kissed me, kissed me.

Unholy Hell, he gave such good kiss…

Just as I was about to melt into a puddle of ooze, he gently set me down and turned away to crouch down by my discarded robe. He lifted the material up with one finger and moved it aside, revealing the burned outline of the pierced heart.

Oh…crap.

Nibbling my lip, I waited while Paul assessed the damage to the floor. After a million years, he looked up at me. “So where are the scratches?”

I blinked, trying to decide if he was being funny. “What do you mean? Don’t you see it?”

“See what?”

Frowning, I stalked up to the scarred floor and pointed. “Right there. In front of you.”

He looked to where I pointed, which was directly at the charred outline. Squinting, he said, “I can sort of see something, but I think that’s just from how the light’s hitting it.” He reached down, ran his hand over the burned surface. “Don’t feel anything. If there are scratches, they’re really minor.”

I picked my jaw up from the floor, then said, “You mean you don’t…”

Then I shut my mouth, clicking my teeth together. Either he was blind, which wasn’t likely, or he couldn’t see the glyph. Maybe only supernatural beings could see such marks. But I wasn’t supernatural anymore. Okay, then maybe only those who were supposed to see them actually saw them. But that didn’t explain why the super could see it. Then again, he’d been possessed by a demon. George probably could have ripped up the floor with his bare hands when Daun had been riding his body; seeing the symbol of the Erinyes was probably a cakewalk.

“So,” Paul said, “George was up here, looking at the not-so-scratched floor, and then he just passed out?”

“Uh huh.” As if I was really going to tell him about Daun’s hands on my body, or Daun’s taunting message about Lillith.

Paul stared at me for a moment, his eyes darkening like storms at sea.

Crap, his bullshit detector was going off. Mental note: Lying believably didn’t count when talking to a cop. I said, “I think he may be doing drugs or something. His eyes looked red.” No lie there.

A long pause before Paul spoke. “Must have shaken you up, have a guy collapse on you like that.”

Actually, that, along with lying, was something I was very used to—lots of clients over the years had expired on top of me. (And below me. And next to me. The list goes on.) “It caught me off guard,” I said, shrugging. “But I’m okay. It didn’t really weird me out.”

“Yeah, I can see that. And there’s really nothing wrong with the floor. So what’s upsetting you so much?”

Shit. Why’d Paul have to be so intuitive? Next time I find a soulmate, I want someone with the emotional intelligence of a salmon in spawning season. With a sigh, I lowered my head and rubbed the bridge of my nose, wondering what to say. Well, sweetie, it’s like this. In the past five hours, I’ve been threatened, propositioned, and nearly seduced by three of Hell’s minions. It sort of set me on edge.

I didn’t think that would go over very well…not the least of which was the whole seduction part. Daun had gotten to me. I’d been ready to mount him and ride like the wind. I loved Paul—unholy Hell, I’d gotten a soul because of him—so how could I even consider fucking Daun? Stupid demon mojo. I almost wished that Daun would appear again so that I could kick him in the balls.

Strong hands pressed down on my shoulders, massaged away my tension. I closed my eyes, going with the movement. “Hon,” Paul said, “you can talk to me.”

His deep voice made me feel all squishy inside. Paul was the only one I knew who could turn everyday words into foreplay. “I know.”

Paul’s hands pressed harder. “This isn’t about the floor or George, is it?”

“No,” I said, then mentally threw myself off of a cliff into shark-infested waters. Stupid, stupid, stupid! “I just have a lot on my mind.” Understatement of the day.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

I wished I could. I so dearly wanted to tell him the truth about me, about who I used to be. But that was a part of my life he could never know. It wasn’t like I could prove I’d been a succubus, and on close terms with Lucifer Himself. All that confession would get me was a trip to a padded room, complete with a form-fitting white coat. And while restraints had their merits, white would never be my color. So I said, “It’s just family stuff. Nothing important.”

“One day, I’d really like to hear about your family.”

“One day,” I agreed, knowing I’d never go there.

His hands rubbed, rubbed. “You need a change of scenery, hon. Get dressed. We’ll go out, grab some dinner.”

“What about the Chinese food you brought home?”

“Leftovers waiting to happen. Come on, what do you say—dinner and a movie?”

I perked up. “Maybe dancing?” If I was possibly going to Hell tomorrow, damn straight I’d be dancing tonight.

He groaned. “Jess, I hate dancing.”

Taking his hands from my shoulders, I led them down to my breasts. “If you take me dancing, I promise to do wicked things to you later.” I rubbed my ass against his pelvis, feeling his growing agreement.

“You make a hell of an argument,” he said, his voice husky. “How wicked?”

I grinned. “Very.”