He descended on me, one arm behind me along the back of the booth, and the other still on my thigh as he did. I instinctively backed away until his hand left my leg and reached up to cup my face and hold me still.

One touch.

One small, simple touch, but I burned beneath it.

My lips parted, Clay pressing in on me, his scent like teakwood and spice as he ran the pad of his thumb along my jaw. His thumb trailed up then, smoothing over my lower lip and dragging down the center of it. I tasted him, salt and whiskey, and then my lip popped free and he tilted my chin just like he had in the cafeteria.

“Good Kitten,” he purred, and then his lips were on me.

Not on my lips, but on my chin, along my jaw, crawling slowly down the length of my neck as my eyes rolled back and I arched to give him better access. His lips were warm and soft, delicately pressing against my skin as his hand slowly slid down the length of my ribs and under the table once more. He rested that palm possessively on my knee, fingertips wrapping full around it and tickling the inside of my thigh.

I was intoxicated by the heady rush until he pulled back, and when I lifted my head, our noses met in the middle. My eyelids were heavy, breath shallow and slow.

For a moment, Clay seemed to forget what he was doing, his green eyes flicking between mine as his grip on my knee tightened. But then he swallowed, leaning his forehead against mine.

“Look at him,” he whispered against my lips, and then he kissed a gentle trail along my jaw until he could nip at my earlobe with his teeth.

It was embarrassing, the little mewl that ripped from me when he did, my eyes closing automatically as I gasped and leaned into the touch. But I peeled them open in the next instant, and just like Clay said, I dragged my gaze toward the stage.

And found Shawn Stetson staring right back at me.

He was singing a song, one I didn’t know or couldn’t identify with Clay still nibbling on my earlobe and neck as his fingertips drew circles on my knee. My heart raced like a leopard, sleek leaps and bounds across the jungle of my relinquishing inhibition as I succumbed to how it felt to have a man touch me like that.

And have a different man watching.

There was something dark in Shawn’s eyes as he did, his brows bent so fiercely the line between them formed a shadow. It was an effort to keep my eyes open and watching him in return with how hot my cheeks were, how my body trembled, how my nipples peaked and ached beneath my blouse.