Before she could respond, red lights pulsed over the stage in beat with the music. Amber and I joined the crowd, screaming our excitement when the massive projector screen lit up with deadmau5. From where we stood, we could see him behind his epic DJ table, the massive silver mouse head—its big round eyes lit up with X’s—as he bounced and pressed all the magic buttons to create the perfect sounds.

The beats were epic—smooth and slow, and rapid and sharp. That was the best thing about him, he had his hand in everything and it pulsed like a living, breathing song inside you. The perfect hacking music, too, allowing you to lose yourself in the rhythm and fall completely off the grid.

But we weren’t hacking tonight.

No.

This—with Amber in front of me, swaying to the beat of the music—it was better.

I never thought I’d say that in my life. But it was true.

Song after song, I held on to Amber’s hips, dancing with her, watching her lose herself to the music. Watching her smile and cheer and perfectly bounce against me. She was beyond beautiful, the freedom in her eyes, the spark that fired behind them when she’d turn to glance up at me despite feeling that I was there.

There were at least a thousand other people surrounding us, and even more than that behind us—but it felt like we were alone.

Her body soft against the hard planes of mine.

The way she rolled her hips, and the way I gripped them, following her with my own moves.

Perfection.

There was no other way to describe it. She made me feel awake—like she was this living flame lighting up a world I hadn’t realized was dark before she came into it.

And I couldn’t believe I’d gotten lucky enough to be the one holding on to her fire.

We danced the night away, and when the last song quieted throughout the loud venue, I leaned down and tucked my head over her shoulder and breathed her in. She smelled like lavender and vanilla and the smoke that coated the concert hall.

She wrapped an arm around me from behind, turning her head so our noses touched.

My heart raced like a gun had gone off.

Her eyes were excited, open, and just a tad bit afraid.

I didn’t move. I wouldn’t. Not again. And if this was all she wanted—dancing and comfort and fun—then I would give it to her a hundred times over and never ask for more.

A few breaths and she inched her lips closer, brushing them with a feather-light touch over mine.

I sighed hungrily but didn’t dare push it. Moving back slightly, I gauged her reaction.

Bright, beautiful eyes. On fire.