Wicked (A Wicked Saga #1)(44)
Author: J. Lynn

"Blending in means having sex," I retorted. "Or haven’t you noticed that’s what’s happening around us?"

"Oh, I’ve noticed." The hand in my hair tightened, and I gasped as his lips brushed the skin of my neck. "Dance, Ivy."

Dance? Did it seem like this was the appropriate moment to dance? I wanted to push Ren down and kick him in the side, but as I dared to peek at the people near us, I had to admit that dancing was better than just standing here. At a quick glimpse, the couples did look like they were dancing. Maybe some were.

Closing my eyes, I tightened my hands along his shoulders until Ren let out a low growl that was part warning, part something else entirely. The last thing I needed to do was dance with Ren. Or was it? A low hum of excitement trilled through my veins, but I blamed that on adrenaline. I opened my eyes, focusing on the tan stretch of skin exposed through the vee of his shirt.

I started to dance.

My pulse skyrocketed as I swayed my hips, and it was as awkward as a three-legged cat trying to walk a tightrope. Dipping my chin, I hid my flaming face. Between my jerky movements and the indecently loud sighs surrounding us, I wanted to pitch myself in front of a bus.

"He’s still talking to the fae." Ren’s voice was low and surprisingly soothing in my ear. "He hasn’t noticed us. You’re doing good, but I know you can do better."

I stilled. "What?"

"Dancing," he replied, and as my gaze shot up to his, he winked. "You own a dress like that, I know you can move that body."

"I am moving my body."

He glanced behind me. "You’re just moving side to side."

"Screw. You."

He chuckled. "Okay."

"Pervert," I shot back, but without much heat. He was right, though. I was sort of moving side to side, kind of like I was at a high school prom. Actually, they danced better than this. Gathering up my courage, I draped an arm around his neck. "Remember. You asked for this."

He arched an eyebrow.

"Try to keep an eye on the ancient."

Ren’s stare turned lazy and wholly arrogant. "Oh, I haven’t forgotten why we’re here."

Holding his smug gaze, I started to move against him, but not like before. I found the beat of the music, letting it resonate in my veins, through my body, and into my limbs. My fingers found the hair at the nape of his neck. I tugged with just enough force to cause his eyes to open wide.

I smiled innocently up at him but immediately regretted it when he dipped his mouth to my neck. "That was naughty," he mused, his lips brushing the sensitive skin below my ear. "And I liked it."

"Figures," I muttered. Even though I wanted to pull his hair again, I decided that wasn’t a wise or beneficial act. "What’s he doing now?"

"Still talking. He’s at a table now, on the other side."

I resisted the urge to stomp my foot, because the longer I moved against Ren’s body, the more I became aware of him. The feel of his hard chest against my much softer one. The way his hand had flattened on my left hip and how the hand in my hair had moved to my back. My heart was beating faster, and it had nothing to do with dancing.

My other hand slipped off his shoulder to his chest, and I felt his deep, sudden inhale. I glanced up quickly, and our gazes collided, held. I was snared. The green hue churned restlessly. His hand on my back slid down the line of my spine and then trailed back up, leaving a wake of shivers behind. With the hand on my hip, he tugged me even closer to him, fitting our hips together. The act left me warm, and that heat spread through me, causing my body to relax and tense at the same time.

The arrogance from earlier was gone from his gaze, replaced by a stark and powerful emotion. Desire. Want. Need. It was all there, and he did nothing to hide it. He didn’t shy away from it, but I wasn’t ready to see it, to even begin to deal with it. Moving sideways, I turned our bodies so when I gave Ren my back, I wasn’t facing the dance floor directly. I could see the ancient, and he was no longer talking to just one fae. Another had joined him.

Swaying to the music, I bit down on my lip when Ren’s arm crept around my waist and hauled me back against him.

"Careful," he said, his nose grazing my cheek. "I know damn well he hasn’t forgotten that face of yours."

I had no idea if that was just a statement, a compliment, or an insult, but then his hand slid across my stomach, his fingers expanding, and as I danced, I realized this position was a bad idea. Every slight move of my hips sent a jolt of shivery awareness through me. His other hand rested on my hip again, and as he finally started to move behind me, finding the rhythm I’d set, I struggled to remember to breathe.

This . . . this was too much, and yet I didn’t pull away. I didn’t put distance between us.

Our bodies were virtually one, and the feel of him against my back turned my insides into molten lava that simmered and then flared hotly the moment I felt his mouth, wet and warm against my neck, just below my ear. Ren didn’t move those decadent lips. He waited for my reaction, and each second that ticked by I was losing myself to the shadows, to the way we moved against one another, and to the act it simulated.

He pressed a kiss against my fluttering pulse, and another gasp escaped me. My eyes drifted shut as he rained a tiny path of sweet, brief kisses along the length of my throat. This was just pretend. I kept telling myself that as his thumb moved in a slow circle just below my breasts. We were pretending. That was all. But my body didn’t recognize that. My breasts ached, and the area between my thighs pulsed. Arousal hummed through my body.

When I opened my eyes, I saw a couple standing across from us. Both were human, and they too were pressed so closely there was no telling where one body ended and the other began. Their mouths were fused together, and his hand was under the skirt of her dress.

God, I wanted Ren to touch me like that. Though that would be entirely wicked and completely wrong, the mere thought of him doing that caused my back to arch and my bottom to press back against him.

Air left my lungs in an unsteady rush. I felt him, and knew at once what I saw in his stare was real. He was not uninvolved in this. He was hard and thick against my lower back as my hips rolled against him.

This was getting out of control.

Ren’s hand on my hip moved, inching down my thigh. The tips of his fingers brushed the bare skin of my left leg, and I shuddered. There was no hiding it, no mistaking it. His mouth trailed back up my throat.

"He’s still at the table," he whispered, barely audible over the music, the whimpers echoing around us, the sound of my pounding heart.