He presses his hips closer, and the laughter dies on my lips. In fact, all the breath leaves my lungs at once. Because holy shit. He wasn’t kidding about being hard. There’s a steely rod pressing behind his zipper, and all we’ve done is dance—at a safe enough distance to make any middle-school chaperone happy. I grin up at him, feeling a little cheeky. “Hey there, big boy.” He chuckles darkly, gaze hot. “Don’t.” “Is that a hockey stick, or are you just happy to see me?” I tease. “Elise,” he warns, voice now tight. I’ve never felt quite so powerful, quite so desirable. He wants me. This sexy,
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