The crowd absorbed me, and the music became my world. Lydia was dancing with someone within seconds of hitting the dance floor. Knowing her, she'd either have the whole club dancing with her by the end of the night or have the entire security team throwing her out. I hoped it was the first. I could see enough bouncers that I wasn't worried about her safety. She was safe here in Charles Bingley's club.

I started dancing, letting the champagne and music loosen my hips. I wasn't anywhere near drunk, just tipsy and loose. I felt good, and I knew that in this dress, I looked good too. I was going to enjoy myself. It wasn't often that I got to dance.

Someone tapped my shoulder. Thinking I was in the way of a person trying to get by, I turned and prepared to move to the side. A short man in khakis and a polo shirt with a work logo stood unmoving in front of me.

“Can I help you?” I asked over the music when he didn't try to get past me.

“Do you want to...” The music drowned out his voice.

“I can't hear you,” I told him, shaking my head and pointing to my ears.

“DO YOU WANT TO DANCE?” He yelled, enunciating every word.

“Um, sure,” I told him, not wanting to be rude. It wasn't like I was dancing with anyone else.

He put his hands on my hips and stood at arm's length away. I didn't know what else to do with my hands except put them on his shoulders. It felt like an awkward middle school dance all over again.

“I'm Collins,” he shouted over the music. “What's your name?”

“Lizzie,” I replied. I already wished the song would come to an end. Shuffling my feet back and forth while he stood a good two feet away with his hands awkwardly on my hips was not fun dancing. We weren't even with the beat of the song.

“That's an odd name,” he replied. “I've never met a Zizzy before.”

“No, Lizzie, with an L,” I told him.

“Zilly?”

“Yeah, sure. We'll go with that.”

The next few moments felt like an eternity. Collins shuffled his feet directly opposite of the beat, making any movement feel completely out of place. Plus, we were the only couple in the entire club that had the middle school dance pose going. He kept trying to have a conversation, but with the music as loud as it was, that was impossible.

“Thank you,” I told him, stepping away as soon as the music changed even a little bit.

"Would you like another?" He pursed his lips in what I assumed was an attempt at a sexy face. It was either that, or he was going to be sick.

“I'm good, thanks,” I replied, taking a step back. “I'd like to dance around a bit. Thanks, though.”

He nodded sharply and immediately went to another girl. She grinned at him.

“You're pretty cute,” she cooed. “I'm Charlotte.”

He grinned at her, and I quickly moved deeper into the crowd as he started his awkward dance routine with her. If the two of them were dancing, who was I to stand in the way of their happiness?

* * *

I kept dancing across the dance floor, moving my hips and having fun. I could see Lydia out of the corner of my eye shaking her booty and having a great time. For once, I wasn't worried about her getting kicked out. She seemed to be behaving herself.

A cute man came up and started dancing with me. He was mid-height with blonde hair and a couple of tattoos peeking out from under his shirtsleeves. I offered my hand, and he spun me into him, putting his hands on my hips and moving with me to the music.

At first, the dance was fun. Cute-guy kept his hands on my hips, pulling me into his body and moving to the music. It was worlds away better than dancing with Collins, but then he started going too far. He grabbed my ass instead of my hips, and he didn't let me go as he thrust his pelvis into me.

I stepped away, no longer enjoying what was going on. I wanted to dance, not to be groped.

“Come on, baby,” he said over the music, flashing me what I assumed was his best smile. He was no longer Cute-guy. He was now Cute-but-awful guy. “It's just for fun.”

“I think I'm done,” I said, turning to leave, but he grabbed my hand.

“Just another dance, baby,” he cooed. “I'll behave. Until you don't want me to.”

I tried to wrench my arm from his grasp, but he was much bigger and stronger than me. I wasn't sure what to do. Should I play nice until he let me go and then run? Should I kick him in the balls? Scream bloody murder?

“She said she's done,” a strong voice said behind me. I turned to find Mr. Darcy out on the dance floor. For the first time since meeting him, I was glad to see him.

“Wait your turn,” Cute-but-awful guy told him. He still had my wrist in his hand.

“No,” Mr. Darcy said, putting his hand on my shoulder. He looked dangerous. “Either you leave now, or they help you out.”

He nodded to the three muscle-bound bouncers in black watching them. Cute-but-awful guy dropped my wrist.

“You need to chill, man,” Cute-but-awful guy said. He blew me a kiss and walked away.

I stood there on the dance floor breathing hard even though I wasn't moving. Mr. Darcy had rescued me. I knew I could have done it myself, but his method was way more effective and didn't involve bodily harm.

“Thank you,” I told him over the music.

He shrugged like it was nothing. “May I have the next dance?”

He held out his hand, waiting for me to take it.

I hesitated. Not because I thought he would end up like Cute-but-awful guy, or because I didn't want to. I really wanted to dance with Mr. Darcy. I wanted to dance and then do so much more than dancing. And that's what scared me.

“You may,” I replied, mimicking his formality before I considered all the consequences. It was just a dance. What harm could a dance do?

The music changed to the next song. A steady, pounding bass beat thrummed across the dance floor like a heartbeat. My hips moved on their own to the tempo, dancing to the sultry music all on their own.

Mr. Darcy's hands went to my hips. They were strong and confident as he guided me in the motions of our dance. He knew exactly what he was doing as he put my body against his. I could feel the strength of his muscles under his jacket, and he moved with a natural grace.

The music throbbed, and I ached with it as Mr. Darcy danced with me. His hand glided down my side, teasing me with his touch while still being completely PG. The trace of his fingers left my skin tingling for more.

I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck, drawing the two of us in closer. There was nothing now but the two of us and the heavy, throbbing need of the music. His hips went slow with mine, keeping just enough distance without letting me forget where he was.

Every move was primal and sexual. Every cell in my body turned on, wanting to know what it would be like to feel this without clothes. My pulse pounded to the beat of the dance.

I bit my bottom lip, trying to keep myself grounded as I lost myself to him. Mr. Darcy was in complete control, and I was fine with that. He made every motion, every move, sexy as hell. It was sex on the dance floor and the hottest thing I'd ever experienced with my clothes on.

I looked up, my lip still between my teeth as I met his eyes.

Blue like the ocean, even in the dark of the club. They captured me and held me there, stronger than any rope. I didn't want to leave the gaze of those eyes.

Emotions that I wasn't ready for flooded through me. I wanted him. I was incredibly attracted to him. I wanted to feel his skin under my fingers and see if he was this good a dancer in the bedroom. Heat flooded my core at the thought of the pleasure he was sure to give me. I was going to give into him.

Yet, somewhere, my brain came back. I knew he was an ass. He was a jerk just looking for his next lay. In that respect, he was no better than Cute-but-awful guy. He was just a better dancer.

I stumbled back, needing to figure out why my body was so attracted to him when my head knew better. I should never have danced with him. I should never have let myself feel the strength of the man under the suit.

My heel slipped, catching on the dance floor and my balance flew out the window. Yet, I didn't fall. Mr. Darcy rescued me, yet again. He pulled me into his body, holding me directly against him. His heart pounded with mine. I heated instantly, my skin crying out for his touch. If anything, the desire this time was almost unbearable.

I looked up again, finding those ocean eyes. They held a storm that I wanted to experience. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to do so much more than just kiss him, but that seemed like a good starting point.

I licked my lips. He tipped his head, apparently thinking the same thing I was. I couldn't believe that I was about to do this, yet I wanted to so badly. My body was overriding my head and taking what it wanted.

I closed my eyes, letting myself go. This was what I wanted. A kiss to start.

The sharp chime of broken glass made us both look up before we connected.

I pulled away, the spell he'd woven over me broken. I couldn't believe what I was doing. I was going to kiss the man who bragged about me being an easy shag? It had to have been the champagne or the fact that he'd saved me. That was it. He'd saved me, and I wanted to kiss him because of that.

Sure. I could believe that.

I looked over at the broken glass to find my sister the cause of it.

She was up on the bar, dancing and knocking over drinks with every wobbly step. Two security guards were in the process of trying to get her down, but she was fighting them.

My heart sank. Why did she always have to go so far overboard to be noticed?

“Lydia!” I managed to get over to the bar just as the two guards set her on the ground. “What are you doing?”

She pulled her arms away from the guards and smoothed her hair. “What? How else am I supposed to get noticed? Have you seen how hot the people are here?”

Mr. Darcy pulled the guards to the side as I yanked my sister away from the broken glass.

“You can't dance on the bar,” I told her.

“Why not? They are.” She pointed to the professional dancers hired by the club dancing up on a different bar. One that wasn't covered in drinks.

“That's because they work here. You don't,” I informed her. I looked over to see Mr. Darcy calmly speaking with the bouncers and pointing up toward the VIP area.

“It's fine, okay?” Lydia pushed me away. She was halfway back to the bar when the bouncers appeared in her path.

“Miss, you're going to have to leave,” the bigger bouncer informed her. “We can't have you here being this disruptive.”

“Do you know who I am?” Lydia asked, crossing her arms and throwing her chin up in the air. “I'm here with Charles Bingley. He owns this place. He owns you.”

The bouncer lowered his head, so he was looking her straight in the eyes.

“That's the only reason you're still standing,” he told her. “Anyone else would be out on their ass right now.”

Lydia paled slightly, her face ghostly in the blue flashes of the dance lights. “Oh.”

“Let the girl grab her things,” Mr. Darcy told the bouncer. “She's on her way out. I'll make sure of it.”

“Of course, Mr. Darcy,” the bouncer replied, snapping up to attention. “Whatever you want.”

Mr. Darcy motioned to the stairs, and Lydia did her haughtiest walk past the bouncers to get there. I half expected her to stick her tongue out as she passed them. I glared daggers at her the entire way up the stairs.

Despite Mr. Darcy's assurances, one of the bouncers followed behind us to make sure Lydia really was on her way out. To be honest, given the way Lydia was acting, I couldn't blame him.

Up at the table, Jane was giggling as she poured herself another glass of champagne. She looked more relaxed now, but that was only because she was drunk. Luckily, Jane was a terrific drunk. Alcohol simply made her giggly and silly.

“I have to take little Miss Dancing-on-tables home,” I announced. “She got herself kicked out.”

“What?” Jane's eyes went wide. She blinked twice before giving a stern glare to Lydia.

I pointed to Lydia's things and cleared my throat, looking directly at my sister. Lydia rolled her eyes and stomped over to the far end of the table to retrieve them. While she did that, I knelt beside Jane.

“Are you going to be okay, Jane?” I asked, handing her a glass of water.

“I'm fine,” she assured me, pushing away the water and reaching for more champagne. She was going to hurt in the morning if she kept this up.

“I'll make sure she gets home safely,” Charles assured me. He grinned. “Her apartment is on the way home to mine.”

I laughed. "Thank you, Charles. And I apologize for Lydia."

Charles waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. These things happen. She's still very young, and she knows what she wants."

“That's a nice way of putting it. Thank you for inviting us,” I replied sincerely. “I had a great time.”

I thought of my dance with Mr. Darcy and my body heated. I wondered what his skin felt like. I wondered if he would have tasted like the champagne. Now I'd never know. Which was probably for the best.

I glared at Lydia. “Time to go.”

She rolled her eyes, and I tried to pretend that she had done me a favor. I was supposed to hate Mr. Darcy, so the last thing in the world I should be doing is wondering what his kisses would taste like. She was saving me from making a terrible mistake with him.

Still, I needed to thank him for helping keep the security guards away from Lydia. I looked around, but he was gone. All I saw was the back of his suit jacket and his phone up to his ear as he disappeared back toward the manager's office. He was working.

The bouncer stood with his arms crossed and tapping his foot for Lydia to make good on her promise to leave. Mr. Darcy had way too much faith in my ability to control my sister.

“Charles? Will you tell Mr. Darcy thank you for me? For helping with Lydia?” I asked. “He's off doing business again.”

“Of course,” Charles assured me. He had an arm around Jane's shoulder as she giggled and sipped on her drink. It looked like he'd managed to switch out her champagne for water at least.

With that, I grabbed Lydia's wrist and pulled her toward the stairs. She went willingly enough, but she did stop and wink at the bouncer for good measure. The girl was brave.

At the bottom of the stairs, I looked back up to see Mr. Darcy watching me. He simply looked at me. No wave, no nothing. Despite not moving an inch, he made my body respond. I wanted to sprint back up those stairs and beg for another dance. Lust and regret surged through me, tempting me to do something other than what I was doing.

Instead, I raised my hand to say goodbye and then hurried my sister out the door, telling myself it was the smart thing to do.