Inside Out - Lauren Dane [16]
Elise rolled her eyes. “Do you really think that? Deep down, doesn’t it feel different? Because from my perspective, it looks different. I’ve seen him flirt many times. Like, a lot, which, gah, doesn’t sound very good, but hold on for the point. Flirting for him is sort of automatic. He’s irrepressible that way. But he doesn’t really mean it. Watching him with you was totally a different thing. He meant it. Whatever he said, Ella, he meant. He did that murmur thing men do when they, well when they want to make you all tingly. God knows when Brody does it, I’m all gooey.”
Erin leaned in. “We talking about how Cope totally eye-fucked Ella at your house?”
Ella nearly choked on her drink. “He did not!”
Elise snorted. “He was an inch from you, oh yes, speaking to you in that sex murmur they do. He kissed your hand at the end!”
Her skin still felt the heat and pressure of his lips. “I do not deny that Andrew Copeland has major game. He does. Like a lot. But he sees me as a friend, nothing more.”
“Are you huffing paint? He does not eye-fuck women. Looks at ’em, likes to have sex with them, yes, but I’ve only seen him that focused on a few things in the time I’ve known him. Never, not once, was it about a woman.” Erin sipped her mineral water.
The music got louder, providing Ella with cover. Truth was, he’d been so sexy with the flirting he’d made her wet and achy. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done that with mere words.
“I’m gonna dance,” she said, waving to one of the other women in their group who was motioning at the dance floor.
As it happened, one of her favorite dance songs came on, Whitney Houston’s “It’s Not Right.” Smiling, she headed out, people all around her, the music throbbing, the crowd bobbing. There was no fear, only the joy of moving and enjoying the music.
A man sidled up behind her, and she moved away, hating that aspect of going out dancing. But he followed, so she spun and found herself facing the aforementioned game-haver, Andrew Copeland. Well, all right then, that was a totally different thing than some stranger trying to rub his dick all over her in the dark. Her heart jumped and did a cheer with the rest of her body, all for him. Damn, he was ridiculously hot.
She smiled, and he gave her one in return, easing back into the space he’d ceded when she thought he was just some dude trying to cop a feel in the dark.
Women seemed to be drawn to him like he was a magnet. They crowded in, trying to get his attention, but he never took his gaze from her, as if no one else in the world existed for him. If he’d acted any other way, she’d have been uncomfortable on a different level. But those other women didn’t matter to him at all, and that made her feel ten feet tall.
Even hotter, he knew how to dance. He didn’t crowd her but lured her instead, until she found herself very close. His gaze was locked on hers, drawing her in. She couldn’t deal with how exposed she felt, so she spun again, facing away and breathing deep.
Until he was right against her, his body like a magnet as she arched her back to get closer.
Two martinis would be her alibi the next day when she realized what she’d done. Right then, though? Well, she closed her eyes and let the music pulse through her, let go of her fear and just danced. With him, against him, their bodies sliding against each other. His palm slid around her waist, cupping her hip bone a moment before moving around to her belly. The shirt hem had risen, and the heat of his bare skin burned against her stomach.
Every part of her was electrified as pleasure like she’d never felt rushed through her veins. The freedom of the moment, the lack of fear, the delicious sexual tension, the chemistry of music, vibration and movement putting her under their spell.
And she went willingly for the first time in years.
His forearm pressed against her belly and side, so hard and muscled. Whitney’s voice rose into the last chorus, and Ella turned, laughing, as it ended.
He leaned in quick and kissed her before stepping