CHAPTER50
LARISA
I’d forgotten how much fun dancing was. It had been a long time since I’d done it, but I was glad Brit had asked me to come out with them tonight. It felt good to get my blood pumping again.
Fun as it was, it hadn’t quite managed to get my mind off of Tanner, though. I’d danced with a few guys, but I just wasn’t interested in anyone. Regardless of how nice or good-looking they were, I couldn’t help but compare them to him.
That part of the mission for tonight, which had been the whole point of coming out, had been a total failure. Plus, with Trevor having come with us, I kind of felt like a third wheel. Because of all that, I was thinking about leaving soon.
I’d had my fun, but the reality was that, as the night wore on, I was more and more aware of the fact that I was here alone—without the one person I really wanted to be dancing with. Talking to. Just be here with.
Glancing at the half-empty glass in my hand, I decided that once this drink was done, so was I. I’d leave Brit and Trevor to do their thing without having to worry about what I was doing. I’d just go home and keep thinking about Tanner there. It wasn’t like I was thinking about him less now that I was here.
As if thinking about him had summoned him, I suddenly spotted him standing at the edge of the dance floor. I stopped swaying to the rhythm of the music, blinking and then squinting in an attempt to determine if it was just the alcohol playing tricks on me.
But no. It’s really him. He’s right there, and it looks like he’s looking for something.
Dressed to impress in a black button-down shirt and jeans that fit like a dream, Mr. Tanner Harris himself was scanning the dance floor like he’d lost something out here. His light brown hair was pushed back from his face, his jaw shaven clean and his piercing eyes searching. For what, I didn’t know, but he was definitely looking for something.
Or someone.
I frowned. Yeah, right. He had no way of knowing where I am. Whatever he’s here for, it’s not me. It’s probably just a hookup—
My rambling thoughts slammed to an abrupt halt when his eyes finally landed right on me. A slow grin spread on his face and he started toward me, moving deliberately and confidently as he cut through the crowd. His gaze never left mine.
No. This isn’t possible. How?
“Hi,” he said when he reached me. The music was so loud that I saw his lips move on the word more than I heard him say it, but then he lifted his hand and slowly moved it toward my face.
Still so surprised at seeing him here and realizing he had been looking for me, all I could do was stand there, staring as his warm skin made contact with mine. He slid his hand farther back until he was cupping the side of my neck and jaw. Then his thumb pressed down on my ear and he leaned in, bringing his mouth so close to mine that I thought he was going to kiss me.
He didn’t. For a second, our breaths mingled and he stared into my eyes with the most determined expression in his gaze, but before I could even think about closing the distance between our lips, he moved again. When his mouth reached my ear, he spoke into it, still having to yell to be heard above the music even with his thumb on my ear and his lips so close to it that my hair moved when he finally told me how he’d found me.
“Brit answered your phone earlier when I called. She told me you guys were here.”
I nodded, then pushed up on my toes and covered his ear with my thumb just like he’d done with mine. His skin was hot, and I caught a faint whiff of his woodsy, masculine cologne as I leaned in to respond.
“What are you doing here?” I yelled, supremely aware of the proximity of his body to mine in this position. It was necessary in order for us to talk without leaving the dance floor, but it wasn’t good for me to be this close to him.
It had only been a few seconds, and my mind was already getting hazy with need. Not just the physical need for him now that I had his hard body radiating its warmth into mine and the scent of him in my nostrils, but the emotional need to know that things were okay between us. I knew they weren’t, obviously, but it was like some deeper part of my insides were reaching for him, needing him to let me know that we would work everything out and that he wasn’t just going to disappear from my life.
The physical need was definitely there, though. My nipples pebbled in my bra and every part of me was suddenly aching for him.
He pulled back only far enough to look into my eyes again, letting me see that the strange determination was still there before he brought his mouth back to my ear. “I’m here because I’m not letting you go without a fight. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get to you. I should’ve been here a week ago. Dance with me.”
By here, I was assuming he meant he should’ve been with me a week ago, not that he should’ve been in the club then. It was too loud to talk much, but the questions racing around in my head exploded into tiny shards when he wound his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to him.
He turned his face into my hair and started moving. I decided not to try putting all those questions back together again right now. He was here, apparently to fight for me, and he was sorry it had taken him so long. Later, I could find out why it had and what exactly it was he wanted to fight for, but for now, he wanted to dance and so did I.
Sometimes, dancing was just better than talking. Easier. We would get to the hard stuff, but I hadn’t seen him in a week, and right then, I didn’t want hard. I wanted easy. I wanted his body right where it was, moving with mine. This week had been hard enough already. All the crying, the doubt, the self-flagellation, and the knowledge that I needed to move on from it all but didn’t know how had taken it out of me.
I’d wanted to find some peace from all that tonight, and without even knowing it, he was giving me exactly what I needed. The momentary peace of being back in his arms and feeling like maybe everything would be okay.
Part of me screamed that I had to get him out of here, take him to a coffee shop or something else nearby where the music wouldn’t drown out our voices and we could talk. I knew I should’ve listened to that part, but I didn’t.
This felt too good, and I didn’t want it to end just yet. If I dragged him out of here to talk, the peace would be shattered and we’d probably end up right where we always did, with him saying things and me feeling like he was holding back the truth.
If only I hadn’t overheard that stupid phone call. Or actually, if only he’d have been able to stop flirting with other people for just one night, maybe I’d have felt like I could still trust him, but now, I just didn’t know how.