Chapter 48 The Moment They Slapped

• The moment they stepped on the dance floor, Tommy wrapped Sam in his arms, pressing her so close the burning heat and steel muscle of his body was stamped on hers, like a brand of ownership he was determined on maintaining, no matter what. And the painful muddle in Sam’s mind melted into a pool of wanting that went so deep, her arms simply wound themselves around his neck and locked him to her. This dance was hers, she thought fiercely. Whatever came afterwards, this last dance with Tommy was hers.
• He didn’t speak. She didn’t, either. Their bodies did all the talking, clinging to the sense of togetherness, silently recalling and revelling in the intimate knowledge they’d given each other, their legs interweaving with a sexual awareness that was intensely erotic. The need—the desire—to be with him again—always be with him—was overwhelming.
• Her fingers stroked the back of his neck, compelled to touch. The skin was damp there. So were his curls. Had he been running to get back to her, sweating on it? She could feel his heart thumping against his chest, his cheek rubbing against her hair, yearning emanating from every part of him, yearning for her. She was sure of it.