The Fifth Doctrine: The Guardian Series Book 3 by Robards Karen

Author:Robards, Karen [Robards, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Published: 2019-03-18T16:00:00+00:00

16

Too easy for someone to steal her purse or go through its contents if she left it behind, so Bianca took it with her. She barely had time to grab her earrings, tuck them together—take that, eavesdroppers—into the outside pocket of her purse and sling the strap cross-body over her shoulder before they reached the dance floor and Colin pulled her around to face him.

“He’s watching. We need to act like we’re hot for each other,” he said under his breath.

Maddeningly conscious of a little kick in her pulse, a small hitch in her breathing, at the very idea, she smiled at him, a slow, come-hither smile that had his eyes widening with surprise and then flaring.

The song was Bob Dylan’s “Lay, Lady, Lay.” She started swaying to its beat, her movements slow, seductive. His eyes dropped to her mouth, then went all heavy-lidded and sensuous as they moved down her body. Finally they came back up to meet her eyes again. Sparks sizzled between them: unwanted, inconvenient, but nevertheless there. The electricity they generated was every bit as tangible as the lightning flashing outside.

He still held her hand. He used it to pull her close.

“You’re good at this,” he murmured, and wrapped his arms around her. That brought her smack up against him. He was all firm muscle on a six-foot-three-inch, broad-shouldered frame. His arms felt hard and possessive around her. As he danced her backward, she tried not to notice any of that.

Hot. Steamy. Oh, God, maybe this was a mistake.

Keep your game face on.

“I’m good at everything.” Full of bravado, she draped her arms over his shoulders and moved provocatively against him. His head bent toward her. His wavy black hair, long-lashed caramel eyes, straight nose with the bump on its bridge, wryly curving mouth, filled her vision, right before he traced the slightest of butterfly kisses just above her left eyebrow. If this was a game of turn-me-on chicken, she was pretty sure that nothing gesture took this round: she caught her breath, barely resisted giving in to a pleasurable shiver and glanced away. They were in the middle of the dance floor now, surrounded by other gyrating couples. She knew he’d placed them there deliberately. He was also keeping his body between her and the possible source of danger, and she knew he was doing that deliberately, too. She was no delicate flower who needed his protection, she wanted to remind him—but, she discovered, somewhere deep inside she found the fact that he was protecting her entrancing.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. His hands moved down until they were almost on her ass. She could feel the size and shape of them just a couple of inches north of being publicly indecent. She flashed him a warning look. He responded with a barely-there, teasing smile. She had to work to keep her pulse rate under control. And her sexy moves firmly on beat.

“You do that,” she said. Undulating against him as she was, there was no way to miss the evidence of his arousal.

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