Not Until You. Roni Loren

closer, pulling her gently against his chest, swaying a bit to the music. Foster knew this would be the make or break moment. She’d either jump in with both feet or shrink back into her shell like a hermit crab. But he was done trying to resist his urges with her.

      So far, she was responding just as he’d hoped, the submissive undercurrent almost a taste on his tongue. The desire to take control, to take her over, surged inside him like lifeblood. His dominance could calm her. “You’re safe with us. Neither of us would ever make you do something you don’t want to do. Understand?”

      Her gaze shifted, and he could see her body going rigid. Her fight-or-flight was kicking in—which only served to activate his chase-and-conquer gene. But right as he thought she may wiggle out of Pike’s arms and run, she blurted out, “But I don’t know how to do this!”

      The honest response made him want to smile, to kiss her, to soothe that insecurity. “Do what?” he asked calmly, letting his hand drift to her throat, feeling her pulse quicken against his palm. “Tell me what you fear.”

      She closed her eyes as if gathering her strength around her—finding that steel core he sensed resided under all that cottony soft innocence. “I’m … not used to this. Being out with guys. I don’t know how to act, what to do.”

      “Ah, sweetheart,” Pike said, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. “You’re doing just fine.”

      Foster breathed slowly, willing his own heartbeat to slow, his protective instinct flooding him. Oh, how he’d like to show her exactly what he wanted her to do when she was with him, how to act, how to submit. But she was so young, so untouched. He’d fear crushing her under the weight of all he desired.

      Despite his body screaming for a different outcome and knowing that he and Pike could seduce her into their bed tonight, he forced the right words to come out of his mouth. “Listen to me, Cela. Tonight, we’re just going to dance. All you need to do is relax and have a good time. We don’t have any expectations beyond that.”

      * * *

      What if I want you to? The question sat full on my lips, my body already in overdrive from Pike’s warm chest pressed against my back and Foster’s commanding gaze holding me captive. But I couldn’t deny the unwinding ball of tension in my stomach at Foster’s statement. They weren’t expecting anything from me. All I needed to do was get the stick out of my backside and have fun. Give myself over to the night.

      Give myself over to them.

      They would take care of me. I didn’t know them well, but on some primal level, I knew that much. They wouldn’t hurt me or take advantage of me.

      “I don’t know where to start,” I confessed. “I’ve never been good at letting loose.”

      Foster’s dark smile was devastating in the changing lights of the club. “Good, let’s start our Never Have I Ever with that one. Letting loose. Your instruction is to simply act, don’t think. If you want to do something, do it. No one knows you here. And even if you fell on your ass in the middle of the dance floor, who gives a shit?”

      I smiled. “That’s a distinct possibility.”

      Pike nuzzled the back of my ear, inspiring a line of goose bumps down my back. “Don’t worry. If you fall, we’ll be there to pick you up, doc.”

      “We won’t let you fall in the first place,” Foster said. “Not with four hands on you.”

      Four hands. My skin tingled at the image—or maybe the alcohol was finally doing its job. My quaking nerves dipped to a manageable level, my confidence rallying. These two guys weren’t there to embarrass me or laugh at my lack of experience. I’d had that happen once before and would rather become a nun than face that humiliation again. But both of these guys obviously knew I wasn’t Ms. Experienced. If they’d wanted some smooth-talking seductress, they could’ve come here alone and picked up any woman in the place. They were here to have a good time, and they wanted to have it with me. Wasting that opportunity would be like throwing away dessert—a travesty.

      I laced one of my hands with Pike’s and reached out for Foster’s, channeling the version of myself that I played in my private fantasies. “I’m ready. Never have I ever … danced with the two best-looking guys in the place.”

      “That’s my girl,” Foster said, grabbing my offered hand and tugging me toward him, sandwiching me between the two of them. “Let’s go show these bastards how it’s done.”

      We made our way down to the dance floor and the pulsing mass of humanity. Foster pressed a palm to the small of my back, and Pike kept his grip on my hand as they guided me into the throng. Having the two men flank me gave me the sense of being protected by some invisible bubble. Hands and limbs snaked around us, bodies brushed me, but somehow instead of feeling claustrophobic like I’d expected, it awakened my senses, made me feel alive. We slowed as we neared the center of the dance floor, and Foster turned me into Pike’s arms.

      “Hey, gorgeous.” Pike’s smile glowed in the black lights as he dragged me against him and looped an arm around my neck.

      I grinned back, relaxing into him. Despite the full-sleeve tattoos and hardened edge of Pike’s bad-boy rocker look, his presence was boyishly charming. I could imagine days with him being full of open laughter and sexy teasing.

      I started to move and tried to focus on not stepping on his feet. But before I could get in time with Pike’s movements, Foster’s hands were spanning my waist from behind, sending sensual awareness sparking through me like static electricity. His lips tickled my ear. “Just take a breath and let us lead, Cela. I can feel you thinking.”

      Thinking. Always thinking. He was right. I nodded and softened my spine, letting the sounds and sensations flow over me, trying to give over the control. I held Pike’s gaze and moved with the two of them—the bass pounding through my ribs like some tribal anthem and the smooth elixir of tequila flowing through my veins. Yes. This. This was what I needed tonight … freedom.

      The song ended and changed into one with a weighty, sensual beat and no lyrics. Thump. Thump. Thump. The guys didn’t say a word as our movements slowed, but it was as if the air shifted around us, grew heavier, warmer. Foster’s pelvis brushed against my backside, and Pike pressed his forehead to mine as we swayed in time to the music. Both men’s colognes filled my nose—Pike’s clean, like salty ocean air and summer nights, Foster’s laced with dark spice. And underneath all that—sweat and desire. Mine. Theirs. Ours.

      I closed my eyes, letting myself fall into the moment, the men’s presence and touch waking up places that had never stirred. My feet moved, my body rocked, hips swayed. But none of it was from my focused effort anymore. The throbbing beat of the song seemed to enter my bloodstream and sync with my heartbeat, lifting me up on the wave of movement around us.

      “That’s right, baby,” Foster soothed, his voice like melting wax. “Let it all go.”

      I allowed my head to fall back, landing against Foster’s shoulder, surrendering. One song turned into another and then another until I lost track when one would end and another began. Heat and alcohol and their touch coalesced, making all the normally awkward edges inside me blur. Time seemed to slow and stretch, until there was just this one continuous rhythm. Just the three of us dancing without regard to the world existing around us.

      Foster’s hold on my waist roamed, exploring my belly, the curve of my rib cage. His knuckles grazed the underside of my breasts, and sharp need tightened my nipples, dampened my panties. Mercy. My eyelids fluttered open and met Pike’s riveted gaze. Gone was the affable smile. A ripple of delectable apprehension glittered along my nerve endings. Pike may be a good-time guy, but unapologetic desire had surfaced in those hazel eyes. I wasn’t used to guys looking at me that way. The power of it almost knocked me down.

      Pike’s palm slid beneath the curtain of my hair and cupped the back of my neck, a firm grip. Foster’s breath danced against my opposite ear. “He’s going to kiss you, baby. Stop him if you don’t want that.”