Page 76 of Palm South University: Season 3

I smile as we start to dance, not even surprised that he moves so smoothly with me in his arms. The man is astounding. “I’ll need a week of recovery, myself,” I tease.

Brandon’s eyes spark, a devilish grin spreading on his face. “I won’t apologize for that.” His eyes sweep over me, landing on mine just as he twirls me out and pulls me back into his arms. “You look absolutely stunning tonight, by the way.”

“This old thing?” I tease, gesturing to the floor-length gold dress I’d picked out for the evening. The high neckline is conservative, my simple earrings and natural makeup complementing the look, but the back of the dress is virtually non-existent, the fabric sweeping wide and low before meeting in a V just above my tailbone. The dress hugs my curves all the way down to the middle of my thigh before sweeping out just slightly, a low slit revealing my left leg and heel when I walk.

“I’ve been imagining all the ways I can strip you out of it,” Brandon admits.

“Even while on stage?”

“Especiallywhile on stage.”

I laugh, spinning under his arm again before wrapping my arm back around his shoulders. “Our last night,” I remind him, eyes searching his for a sign of… well, anything — sadness, excitement, regret, fear, hope.

He swallows. “We’ll have to make it count.”

“Back to reality tomorrow.”

He nods as the band finishes the song, still holding me in his arms when the last note plays. “Indeed.”

The room claps politely, the band smiling in thanks before striking up the next melody, but time is frozen where Brandon holds me in the middle of the dance floor. The way his hand grips the skin on my lower back — just slightly, enough to send a wave of chills over my arms — has me anxious to get back to the room.

If we really only have one more night together, I don’t want to waste a single second more of it here.

“I’m suddenly very tired,” I breathe, my eyes flashing over his lips.

Brandon grins. “Then let’s get you to bed, Miss Daniels.”

That night, Brandon touches me slower, longer, with more intent and purpose than before. It’s as if he’s memorizing the way every inch of my body feels beneath his, the way my breaths enter and exit my lungs, the way my lips move over the moans and whispers of his name.

And I memorize him, too — wondering how I’ll ever let him go once our jet lands back in South Florida.

We knew the game we were playing was dangerous before we even dealt the cards, and now here we are, nearing the end, both of us winners and losers in equal measure. It’s time to pack up. Time to go home. Time to keep our promises, leaving our brief time together in the past, in a memory, never to be relived.

But with Brandon’s lips on my skin, his hands on my waist, his breaths in my ear — I can’t help but feel like this game isfarfrom over.