Fiore swayed to the rhythm, her body naturally moving with the heavy bass of the music, the heat of the crowd wrapping around her like a cloak. The lights in the bar blurred as they danced over her, and the drink in her system dulled her senses, making everything seem distant and soft.
The hands at her waist felt strong and steady, pulling her into the moment. She leaned in without hesitation, surrendering to the rhythm. For a second, a thought flashed through her mind—this man didn’t smell like Lance—but it was gone just as quickly as it came. The alcohol numbed her instincts, and all she could do was move her hips, let the music take over, and dance.
The man behind her—Lance, she was sure of it—moved closer, his breath warm against her neck. She closed her eyes, feeling the world tilt
