Nearing the end of the dance, Dorsey’s stick struck hers high in the air. He moved closer to her as their sticks still crossed each other above their heads. One deep breath would have their bodies touching. If he bent down to kiss her, with her arms high like this, she wouldn’t be able to stop him in time. Not that he was going to.

Dignity, Liza. You made a mistake. You bet on the wrong horse. Now you have to live with it.

“Liza,” Dorsey said. She noticed that his head was bent down at a perfect angle.

Action over deliberation. She didn’t let him finish.

She kissed him quickly and deeply, sticks still high in the air.

Fuck dignity.

“Take me somewhere, Dorsey,” Liza whispered.

He was breathless. “Anywhere.”

“Your place.”

Dorsey was calling his car the next moment. Gigi made him take a turn around the room to make his apologies and bid everyone good evening, but Liza saw the rapid-fire handshakes and shoulder pats and laughed. He looked like someone had pressed an invisible fast-forward button.

CLOSED CIRCUIT

Liza and Dorsey fell onto each other as soon as they crossed the threshold of his loft. Dorsey pushed her toward the kitchen as his mouth met hers in a fury that overwhelmed her and buckled her knees.

He had been so slow, so calculated, before. That measured man was gone. His warm hands explored her body. In the kitchen’s gleaming sterility, they were the only two things out of place. Liza was sure he would take her on the dining room floor if she let him. Her hips dug into the countertop as he kissed her neck. Why had she never noticed how strong he was? He picked her up with so little effort, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Right at the crook of his neck, this close, he smelled like skin, soap, and sweat—like he was finally meeting her the way nature intended.

“I want you, Liza. I’ve wanted you for a long time,” Dorsey told her between kisses. “I know I fucked it up with you before.”

“Don’t speak.” Liza did not want her head clouded with all the ways this could end in tears. Sorry I misunderstood our relationship. It won’t happen again. His final sentence flickered constantly inside her head. He walked up the stairs with her hooked around his neck and waist.

“No . . . No, Liza, I fucked it up. But I’m gonna make it right. I’m gonna make it up to you.” He ground the thick ridge of his cock into her. “And I’m gonna start here.” He kissed her again.

Wet friction.

His mouth on the shell of her ear.

Filthy promises whispered against his neck. Liza was shattering. He wasn’t proposing or anything, just acknowledging that he had been wrong. But why had his words vibrated inside her?