Page 36 of Swept Away

Minutes later, we’re back at the bar, and what we’ve been trying to avoid the entire evening finally happens.

All worked up, Monique signals to that particular barista to come take her order.

Once she gets her drink, she tosses it into the woman's face, and a catfight begins.

The men accompanying us spring into action, pulling Monique away and pushing the barista back.

More clamor ensues, and a circle of bystanders forms when Carter grabs Monique and tugs her away.

“I need to take her home,” he says, and Mason hands him the car keys.

“It won’t take long,” he says, and soon after, he leaves with Monique.

Perhaps that was Monique’s strategy all along.

Start up some trouble and get Carter involved so she can get home with him and finally get him to fuck her.

As weird as it sounds, it might work.

If that’s her plan, the woman is more seasoned than I thought she was.

Relieved that I no longer have to spend time with her and constantly keep an eye on her, I pull up next to Mason and ask the guy behind the counter for a bottle of water.

I drink half of it.

“Feel better?” Mason asks, not in the slightest unsettled by how things have turned out.

“Honestly? Yes.”

He gives me a low laugh and turns to the bartender.

Moments later, he pays for our tab.

A slow song comes on, and he nods toward the dance floor.

“You wanna dance?” he murmurs, already taking my hand and dragging me in that direction, rendering my answer useless.

His hand slides to the small of my back while we slowly twirl, my body pressed into his, my arms draped around his neck.

A few movements pass before he lowers his lips to my ear.

“You look lovely tonight, Gemma,” he says in an enthralling tone, and my skin prickles, blooming with excitement.

Normally, these words would serve as a pickup line or a casual compliment.

Coming from him, it sounds genuine. Like he’s never seen another person looking as lovely as I do tonight.

“Thank you,” I say.

He awakens every nerve ending in my body by slowly rolling his thigh between my legs and making me feel the hard ridge of his erection against my abdomen.

The temperature suddenly rises around us when he lowers his mouth again and places a kiss on my neck.

My back arches as my chest presses into him when he laces his fingers through mine and keeps spinning around with me on the dance floor, the music swiftly erasing the presence of other people around us.

His other hand moves lower and around my hip before sliding up and stopping short of my left boob.

I want his hand on me, and subconsciously telegraph that to him by pushing myself into his touch and pressing myself against his frame.