Chapter Sixteen
IF MITCH KNEW what she needed—or wanted—right then, he didn’t seem to care. Instead, he ordered another round of drinks and kept her on the dance floor. More people watched, touching her, dancing with her, that eventually it all became a blur. And she liked it. The longer it continued, the more she craved.
What’s more, as far as she could tell, so did Mitch. He grinned, kept her on the dance floor, or with her legs spread at the table. He took pride in exposing her, knowing the effect it had on her, how turned on she became. From the bulge she felt at the front of his jeans while they danced, it turned him on as well.
And that confused her. Most men would have yanked her off the dance floor and out the door. Or they would have left her there. Alone.
Yet, Mitch was still
