If only she could disappear so easily.
Instead, she decided to bluff things out. “Liar, liar,” Gwen accused softly. Their bodies were far too close—courtesy of that crushing crowd. She was almost touching Chance and touching him would be a serious mistake.
The last time she’d touched him, Gwen had gotten burned.
His lips—a little cruel and far too sexy—curled a bit. “Running, were you?”
“I was simply going back to dance.” She could lie, too. Besides, Chance—follow-the-rules, obey-orders-all-the-time Chance—he wasn’t going to dance with her. Not in that pack. Not anyplace. “So if you don’t mind…”
He caught her right hand in his. Looped his left behind her back and pulled her close. “I don’t mind at all.”
She stared up at him, totally lost. His dark hair was thick and a little long, brushing against his collar. A light line of stubble darkened his jaw. His face was just as handsome as she remembered—dammit—in a hard, almost brutal way. He had those dangerous looks that attracted women who should know better.
Women like her.
Deep, dark, let-me-fuck-you eyes. High cheekbones. A hard, square jaw. A faint scar sliced through his left eyebrow, but even that white line was sexy. Unfortunately, everything about Chance Valentine was sexy to Gwen.
And he was…dancing with her. Moving slowly. Sensuously. The music had changed. It wasn’t some wild, blaring beat now. It was softer. Smoother. All about seduction. And his fingers were just above the curve of her ass.
“What are you doing?” Gwen asked. She hated that her voice sounded like a squeak.
Chance smiled. Her heart broke a little then. His smile did that to her—twisted her up and made her want things she knew she couldn’t have.
“If you have to ask,” Chance murmured, his voice a low rumble, “then my dancing is even shittier than I thought.”
No, it wasn’t. He was moving fluidly, holding her easily, and she wanted to get closer to him.
So she stepped away or, rather, she tried to step away. Chance didn’t let her go far. He rejected you once, Gwen. Don’t give him the opportunity to do it again. “What are you doing here?” Gwen rose onto her toes, trying to see over his shoulder. “This isn’t your kind of place.”
“Now how would you know that?”
“Because you don’t exactly scream dance party scene.” No, he screamed danger in big, red letters.
His head cocked to the side. “You really don’t know me very well, Gwen.”
Right…like that was her fault. She’d tried to learn his secrets. The guy wasn’t the sharing sort.
“I saw you when I came in.” His hold tightened on her. “The blond on the dance floor was nearly fucking you right there.”
He’d been watching her that long?
“You left one guy…only to get caught by another. You sure seem popular here, Gwen.”
She had to swallow to clear the lump in her throat. “It’s a busy club. If you look around, you’ll see that everyone is dancing here.” Her chin notched up. “And I wasn’t about to fuck the blond on the dance floor.” She’d very clearly told him that she was only there to dance.
“Learned from last time, huh?”
At those low words, everything slowed down for her. Slowed down and got quiet. Because he had not just said that to her.
“It’s not safe to screw a stranger you meet at a bar. But you learned that, didn’t you?” His jaw was harder, his words rougher. He was angry.
So was she. “Let me go,” Gwen said.
He gave a short, negative shake of his head.
“Let me go,” Gwen said again, “Or I will start screaming. Want to see how fast the bouncers close in and drag you out of here?”
He was silent a moment. The heat from his touch seemed to sear her. Gwen held her breath and she got ready to scream.
He let her go.
Quickly, she stepped back. She bumped into the dancers behind her, and Gwen muttered an apology. Then she kept right on muttering apologies as she pushed her way through the crowd. She couldn’t believe that Chance had just hurt her that way. To bring up Ethan. Yes, she knew hooking up with him had been a colossal mistake—one that still ripped at her heart.
But she didn’t need Chance pointing out her past mistakes to her. No one was perfect, not even the mighty Chance.
She hurried back to her table, said her good-byes to her friends, and she grabbed her jacket. Gwen still had that too-aware feeling, as if someone was watching her.
Chance?
She didn’t look around for him. Instead, she made a beeline for the exit. Gwen shoved open the door and headed out into the cold December night. December in D.C….that meant the politicians were mostly out of town and the snow was on the ground. Or, in this case, the snow was falling. Light snowflakes feathered down over her and Gwen shivered. She pulled her coat a bit closer and hunched her shoulders. She’d hail a cab and get the hell out of there. She lifted her hand—
Chance caught her fingers.
When she exhaled, the cold turned her breath into a little puff of smoke.
“I’m sorry,” Chance said, that deep voice of his a rumble that she could almost feel. “I hurt you back there, and, believe me, that’s the last thing I intended to do.”
The snowflakes kept falling on them.
“I can be a jealous jerk sometimes,” he told her as he stepped closer. “You should probably know that about me.”
Cars were rushing by on the street. She could grab a taxi, no problem. But even though the cold was starting to make her toes tingle in her boots, Gwen didn’t move. “Jealous?” It took an effort to get that one word out. Then she gave a strangled laugh, convinced he was mocking her. “You’ve never been jealous—”
“I wanted to punch the men who were dancing with you in that club. Shove them the hell away from you. I wanted to be the only one touching you.”
She couldn’t be hearing him correctly. The cold had frozen her ears and she wasn’t hearing—
“And do you know how long I’ve wanted to beat the hell out of Ethan Barclay?”
Ethan. Her ex-lover. The man who’d taught her how very wrong it was to ever trust a sweet-talking stranger. The man she’d turned to out of desperation…
Because I couldn’t have Chance.
Gwen shook her head.
“Ever since he had you.” And he stepped even closer to her. So close she could feel the tempting warmth of his body again. “He had what he never should have touched.”