“Liar. Your nipples are saluting me.” His gaze falls to my chest, as does mine.

I press against him and he wraps me up so that his chin rests on top of my head. “I really dig your boobs. Especially when they’re rubbing against me.”

A burst of laughter escapes and I lift my head forcing him to create enough space so I can look him in the eye. “Really? They’re so small.” I push them out and his blue eyes watch with rapt interest.

“They’re perfect… and now I’m hard.” With a groan, he stands and takes my hand. “Dance with me.”

That seems like the worst way to get rid of a boner, but what do I know? The dance floor is practically empty. It isn’t that late – definitely not clubbing hour, and it is Sunday night. Most people are probably home resting up for the week or recovering from the weekend.

The few other people out here care about us as much as we do them, though. We’re all in our own little bubbles. Tanner’s a good dancer. He doesn’t do it much back at Valley, but on a few drunken occasions, I’ve been able to pull him onto a frat party dance floor.

Moving to the beat, he keeps one hand on my hip, holding on to the spandex fabric of my dress like he’s keeping me from moving farther away. As if I’d try.

I lean into the touch wanting more. So much more. He gives it to me, spreading his long fingers out so they splay out over my rib cage. The heat of him and his familiar scent vibrate through me with the music.

We’re in sync without trying. Each time I move closer, so does he, until we’re chest to chest. I rest my arms on his shoulders, and he now has both hands on either side of my waist. We’re junior high dancing. The kind where our hands are in appropriate places, but the bad intentions fill the space between us. Hormones and indecisions are so thick it’s hard to breathe.

Tilting my head up, I bring our lips close. His gaze darts to my mouth and his eyes darken. This is it. He’s going to kiss me again. It has to be him. I’ve made the move too many times.

“Come on, there’s some place else I want to dance with you.” He takes off, pulling me behind him without waiting for a response.

I fight off the sting of disappointment that he’s able to hold back when I feel like I’ll die from unrequited lust. I need him in a way that is about so much more than sex.