With his free hand, he brushed her hair back under the guise of clearing the way for him to whisper in her ear. But he took the opportunity to let the pad of his thumb linger at the back of her neck. He held her gently, firmly in place while his nose just barely skimmed the upper shell of her ear.

“Guess I’m just enjoying the company.”

He was obliged to watch her pupils dilate as she licked her lips.

“Another round?” Marissa shouted over the noise of the crowd.

Richie made a face at them, testing the waters to see if they were going to stick around for that long. Maybe if Mary had been a different, less earthquaking woman, John would have been anxious to get out of the bar with her and get on with their night. But right now, with her warm and vibrating in his lap, there was nowhere else in the solar system that he wanted to be.

“Sure!” Mary shouted back.

Their beers came, and John watched, point-blank, while Mary slipped the lime out of the neck of the bottle and sucked it clean. When she licked her lips, John licked his own lips. When she took a sip from her beer, John looked away, let out a long breath and took a deep swallow of his own beer, hoping to cool some of this fire inside him. So far, she was definitely winning the painfully delicious game they were playing with one another.

John looked down. Two of their legs were hidden in the shadow underneath the overhang of the bar and John took the opportunity. He laid his palm over his own knee. He couldn’t see her face, but he felt Mary’s awareness circle down and land right there. To the hand he’d placed just an inch from her leg.

John leaned forward, pretending to be straining to hear something Richie was saying, but really he was taking the opportunity to bend Mary over, just a tiny bit. He tightened his hold at her waist and moved his hand from his own knee to her knee, as if he were bracing her against the shift in balance. He answered Richie, careful not to shout in Mary’s ear, and then leaned them both back, adjusting her against him but leaving his hands where they were. One palm on her opposite hip and one palm over her knee, his fingers stretched down to her bare calf. Her dress was short, so he was skin on skin.

Her fingers tugged at the button at his wrist, one gentle nail tracing a path on the skin under his sleeve. His own fingers stretched in response, his thumb drawing a circle on the inside of her knee.