It was only supposed to be dancing.
I have all these witty things I’m going to say and they all die on my tongue when you come to the door in that short little dress.
Damn. Speechless again. And you with that knowing smile.
On the way to the club, sliding my hand up your thigh, I swerve dangerously close to some huge pickup, his horn blaring both of my hands back onto the wheel. After that I try to be better about watching the road, but it’s hard with legs like yours just always in the corner of my eye. Somehow I manage.
But when we get out on the dance floor and I see the way you move your body there is Just. No. Way. I am keeping my hands off of you. A man’s got his limits. So when the DJ takes a break we head outside, sweaty and breathless, our drinks forgotten. I pull you closer than dancing and our kisses are like coming up for air.