His lips brush mine, so gentle at first that I almost doubt they were there. But then his mouth meets mine again, deeper, hungry. When I part my lips, his groan fills my mouth, his hand drifting lower down my back, pulling me against him, until there’s no mistaking how dancing has affected us both. My breasts press into the hard breadth of his chest, my nipples tight and sensitive as they rub against him. A sweet, hot ache fills me. Desperate, restless, I lean into him, wanting so much more.

I bring us to a grinding halt, throwing my arms around Jamie’s neck, and like it’s simply our choreography, his hands wrap around my waist, pulling me tight against him. Our mouths open, and our tongues dance how our bodies did—a sensual, rhythmic glide that makes me melt in his arms.

“Bea,” he mutters into our kiss.

I kiss him harder, tangling my fingers in the beautiful waves of his hair. “Jamie.”

“What do you want?” he says hoarsely.

The question knocks me sideways. Not because I don’t know but because the answer is on the tip of my tongue, daunting and undeniable. When it’s just a single word, you’d think it would be simple. But it takes courage, a brave tug of air to fill my lungs before I paint the space between us with one luminescent word. “You.”

It’s barely left my lips when Jamie sweeps me up and starts walking us toward the sofa, easing me onto the cushions. My legs fall shamelessly open as he drops his weight over me and kisses me slowly.

Oh God. This. This is what I needed. To kiss Jamie. To feel his long, heavy body pinning me down. I sigh into our kiss, moving as he moves, until we’re tangled together, hands wandering, kisses deep and wet.

These are new Jamie kisses, uninhibited and hungry. He slants his mouth over mine, his tongue taking my mouth the way I want every inch of him moving inside me—deep, steady thrusts that make my toes curl inside my socks.

“Is this all right?” he whispers.

“So all right.” I drag my hands down from his thick waves, along his back, all the way to his hard, firm ass. His moan echoes in my mouth as I pull him tighter against me. “Don’t stop,” I tell him. “Please don’t stop.”

“God, Bea.” He scrapes one hand up my thigh, pouring my dress into a wine-red puddle at my hips. “I want you so badly.”

“I want you, too.”