Southern Charmer (Charleston Heat 1)

Immediately the front half of the patio turns into a dance floor. Hands are in the air, there’s hollerin’ and hootin’ and some pretty egregious dry humping going on.

I turn to Olivia, half hoping she’s got a look of disgust on her face because she hates eighties music and/or Def Leppard. I need a reason to want her a little less. A reason to help me pump the goddamn brakes.

Instead, her face is lit up with a smile as she mouths the lyrics, nodding her head in time to the beat.

“You like Def Leppard?” I say, raising my voice so she can hear me.

Olivia nods, digging her teeth into her bottom lip. “Love ’em. Although Bruce Springsteen is probably my favorite. From the eighties, at least.”

My uncle introduced me to The Boss when I was a kid. I’ve been obsessed ever since.

I meet Luke’s eyes over her head.

Goodness.

I’m in big fucking trouble.

As if on cue, Buns ’n Roses plays “Dancing in the Dark”.

Olivia looks at me. I look at her.

“Wanna dance?” I ask.

She chews on her bottom lip. My heart falls. She’s gonna turn me down again. God, why do I keep doing this to mys—

“Would love to,” she replies with a smile. She looks at Luke and Grace. “Are you guys going to be okay? I hate to leave you…”

“Y’all go have fun,” Luke says, hardly giving us a glance as he turns to my sister.

I shoot him a dark look.

“You two behave.” Then I nod my head toward the band. “Let’s go, Yankee girl.”

She follows me as I try to nudge my way through the crowd. It’s slow going; the patio is really packed. I turn around to see some asshole cutting Olivia off, shouldering her aside.

“Hey!” I shout at the guy, stepping back. “Watch it.”

Then I reach behind me and grab Olivia’s hand. For a second, it stays lax in mine. I worry I’ve made her uncomfortable. But I don’t want her to get lost in the throng. Shit—

But then she firms her grip, fingers curling around my palm. I glance over my shoulder and she meets my eyes.

“All right?” I ask.

She nods, her smile returning. “All right.”

My pulse hiccups. Her hand feels small and warm in my own. She’s trusting me.

I feel like I could fucking fly.

I turn back around and head for the stage, keeping Olivia close. Once, when I stop unexpectedly, she kind of crashes into me. I swear to God I almost bite off my tongue at the feel of her tits pressed against my back. Am I imagining that she lingers there for half a heartbeat?

I keep moving. I don’t wanna do something stupid. We burrow our way to a spot in the middle of the dance floor. The lead singer has busted out a saxophone, and everyone around us is going nuts. Olivia comes to stand beside me, her hip brushing against mine when she shimmies.

I take a chance and give her hand a squeeze.

Olivia smiles, squeezing back.

I can’t let her go. Not yet. I crave this. Whatever this feeling is.

I raise my arm and twirl her around. Then she raises her arm and attempts to twirl me, and even though I bend my back, I somehow manage to fuck it up, spilling beer all over the front of my button up shirt. Her eyes widen when they fall on the stain. She puts the flat of her palm over it. Over my stomach.

“Sorry!” she shouts.

My entire body warms at the simple contact. I don’t wanna read too much into it. That she’s the one touching me now.

But I do.

I lean into it. Into her palm.

Into her.

And she doesn’t pull away.

“Don’t give me an excuse to take my shirt off,” I reply.

Olivia laughs, taking a step closer. “Like you need one.”

I cock a teasing brow, my free hand going to the top button. “Should I?”

“I don’t wanna get kicked out yet. Band’s too good,” she replies, swatting away my hand.

Her playful touching—her flirting—is driving me up the wall. It’s such a fucking turn on. The blood inside my skin feels downright giddy.

I catch her hand, guiding it onto the back of my neck. Her eyes flash with heat, and she steps into me, sliding her other arm onto my shoulder. Pressing our bodies together.

The solid, soft feel of her against me is enough to make me wanna scream. Our bodies fit together perfectly.

Her curves are all over me.

My cock starts to feel heavy when she digs the tips of her fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck, gently dragging her fingernails across my scalp.

I curl an arm around her waist and hold her closer. Duck my head to murmur in her ear.

“I like that.”

Olivia’s nose brushes against the line of my jaw. I don’t know if it’s intentional or not. But it turns me on in a really big way.