Page 40 of Riding the Line (Willow Ridge #2)

Music thumps in my bones as we sit in our booth at Kip’s bar, Haze.

Cherry happily sips on her third Jack and Diet Coke beside me, my arm stretched behind her.

Dance melodies melt into each other, deep-blue mood lighting lining the glass shelves of the two bars either side of the room gives the impression of being submerged underwater, away from the chaos of the world, and heat from Cherry’s body pressed against me all floods my veins with calm.

As well as the joy radiating off her as she wiggles in the seat to the music.

It’s not enough – any touch from Cherry is never enough, not when there’s still so much more I want to give to her – but I’m conscious of taking too many risks today.

I’m trying my best to let the music drown out the voice in the back of my mind wondering if it’s all a trap – the calm before the storm, when I then lose everything.

Maybe one more drink out in the open together, before I drive us back.

Except, Cherry leans into me, warm breath sending shivers across my skin as she suggests into my ear, ‘We should go dance.’

I shake my head, hand clasping tighter around my non-alcoholic beer. ‘I don’t know … There’s a lot of people here. Someone could know us.’

‘Don’t make me turn this into a closing-time argument.’ She quirks a brow at me, teeth sinking into her bottom lip teasingly. ‘Because you know I’ll win.’

My laugh barrels out and I place my bottle on the table. ‘Will you now?’

‘I got you to kiss me, didn’t I?’

The ease of which she speaks of us kissing out in the open has my body tightening – though it’s mostly because the flash of that memory, our first kiss with her straddling my thigh, fills my mind.

‘Duke,’ Cherry laughs my name, shaking her head at me. She deposits her glass clumsily back on the table, enlightening me to how quickly the few drinks she’s had have gone to her head. And made her bolder than usual, it seems.

Positioning herself in front of me, she throws her hands on her hips and levels her dark eyes at me.

The blue lighting filling the bar glows around her, and I realise how easily I could get used to looking up at her like this, shining brightly above me.

Slowly, she bends towards me, sliding her smooth palms against my stubble until she’s cradling my face.

‘Nobody knows us here – I’m sure of that.

It’s dark and crowded. No one will care if you touch me.

Where you touch me.’ A wicked grin spreads out those tempting dark red lips of hers, and I feel suddenly compelled to get down on my knees, completely under her spell, ready to fulfil her every command.

‘Please just come and dance with me. When will we get another chance to get lost in the music together?’

‘Cherry …’

‘Last time I was in the city, at the club, all I could think about when we were dancing was how badly I wanted to be with you. How badly I wanted to feel your body behind me, your hands on my hips.’

A groan rumbles in my throat because, fuck , if I haven’t dreamed of being able to do that too.

And here she is, dangling said dream in front of me with such ease.

My eyes cut beyond her, to the people flooding the dancefloor in the centre of the bar.

Bodies flow in a rhythm under the strobe lighting, pressed tightly together as they feel the waves of the music, barely any cracks amongst the throng of people for secrets to be spilled. To be noticed.

Would it be so bad? To let my hands wander freely in the darkness and have a taste of what it’d be like to be together in public? Not to have to hide?

‘And,’ she adds, ‘I never got to tick off staying at a club ’til close from my bucket list. I know it’s not a proper nightclub, but I think it would still count.’

Cherry must sense my defences slowly breaking down because she moves her hands from my jaw and holds one out in front of me instead. I close my eyes before sighing out the rest of my self-control and slide my fingers between hers. The happiness that lights up her eyes is reward enough.

Cherry leads us out of the booth towards the dancefloor, fingers pulsing against mine as we get closer.

We weave through the tightly packed, swaying crowd, bodies pressing and waving against us as we move into the centre.

The further we submerge ourselves into the dancing throng, surrounded by movement and hidden from the world, the deeper I drop into the depths of liberation, the voices in my head quietening.

Freedom flows in my veins, and I slip my hands around Cherry’s waist, stopping her and tugging her towards me.

Her back presses against my chest, the heat of her body melting into mine as her hips start to sway, giving me a rhythm to move to as my hands drop to her hips.

Nails raking against my skin, she trails her hands up around my neck, brushing her fingers up the back of my head as she pushes her ass back against me, gliding her body side to side with the beat of the music.

I drop my lips to her neck, relishing the way her body arches instantly.

We stay like that until the lights end the night – my hot breath against her neck, our cheeks pressed together, as I grip her hips, letting them guide our movements, while a rainbow of flashing lights rain down on us.

There’s a heady rush of power that comes with holding her here, surrounded by so many people, being able to show off that she’s mine.

That I’m the lucky man that gets to embrace her, to be the one to listen to her worries and talk her to sleep, to make her smile, to hear the melody of her laugh and her sweet moans.

That I get to worship this masterpiece of a woman, no one else.

Even if this is the only time I get to experience this, to be with Cherry without any cares in the world weighing me down, it’ll be worth it.

Cherry Hensley.

The best bad decision I’ve ever made.