“You just feel right.”

She didn’t get a chance to smile again or to explain or to even blush at how vulnerable she felt.

Brady rolled over, cupped her cheek, and, beneath aurora popcorn ceiling, kissed her one more time without a soul in sight.

Well, I fucking declare.

The mood in the room went from warm and intimate to downright shawty fire burning on the dance floor.

This wasn’t some quick pity kiss.

No, this was more. This was all about connecting.

And Sloane was ready to completely connect with the surly, compassionate, grumpy bartender who tasted a lot like peppermint.

She moaned against his lips as his tongue broke through in time with his hand running down her side. He gripped her hip. Hard. Then he pulled his arm out from under enough to prop himself up and trapped her beneath him.

It was the best trap Sloane had ever been caught in.

She ringed his neck with both arms and pulled him down, flush against her. The move seemed to excite the man even more. He dropped his hand to the top of her bare thigh and then ran it right back up beneath her dress.

And right on beneath the strap of her panties.

It was all too much.

And still Sloane wanted more.

She bucked up against him, hungry. Her hands went from astronomers to astronauts, the difference between playing it safe and ready to reach for the freaking stars. They grabbed the brim of Brady’s T-shirt and tugged up.

“I want this off.”

Brady’s lips were swollen, his eyes were hooded, and his voice ground against her lady bits just as much as his hard-on did through his jeans.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He threw his shirt somewhere off in the distance.

The floor? The closet? Antarctica? Who fucking cared.

Sloane was bathing in the absolute masterpiece that was Brady Knox shirtless. She didn’t want him against her. She needed it.

Brady took his own moment to slow things down. He brushed past her lips and instead skimmed along her jaw. Heat and pleasure and the best kind of tingling followed those lips to her neck. Along with a tongue that knew exactly what it was doing.

He never stayed in one place too long.

It was maddening. And it was nothing compared to what he was about to do.

“You want my shirt off; I want this off.” He kissed the skin just above the fabric of her dress. “Now.”

Sloane didn’t need to be told twice.

Because she’d had no idea that she’d be doing anything that required her naked body with Brady that day, she had to stand up to take the damn sundress off.

Thankfully, Brady didn’t complain about the new orientation. He was towering over her in a flash. Their height difference wasn’t intimidating like it used to be. In fact, it only turned her on more.