I didn’t think you two would ever come back in,” Justin smirks when we return to the party.

Ace slides the coat from my shoulders and hands it to the man in the uniform to be hung up with the others. “The lady is far more sensible than I am,” he explains. “I would rather have stayed out there where I can hear myself think. You know I can’t stand big groups.”

“I know, I know, it gives you a headache,” Justin replies with a wink in my direction. “So what does he do for a living? He buy himself a gym that’s always busy as hell.”

“If it’s not busy, how do I make money?” Ace asks.

Justin shakes his head, turning his attention to me again. “He could’ve come in on the ground floor with me, you realize. You’d never have to spend time in a smelly, sweaty gym.”

“Then I would never have met, Sam. Besides I don’t have a head for all that computer stuff,” Ace drawls, sliding an arm around my waist.

“No, but you have the business sense.” He swipes a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “And that would’ve been enough for me.”

Ace rolls his eyes, but gently. “Don’t you have other guests you could be bothering right now instead of bringing up old news with somebody I brought with me to impress a little bit?”

Justin shrugs good-naturedly. “I thought she should know right off the bat what an idiot you are.”

“I’m sure she’ll figure it out on her own, thanks.” He rolls his eyes again as he steers me further into the house, among the rest of the guests.

“You two like busting each other’s balls, I guess?”

His rueful laughter tells me I’m right. “It’s sort of a lifelong habit we both have. I guess tonight, it’s my turn. I deserve it. The last time he brought a girl around, I told her the story of how he once sat on a cacti during a sports run.”

“He did?” I giggle.

“Yeah, and he jumped around and wailed like a banshee and had to have them removed one by one in front of a whole bunch of people. I’ve never let him live it down.”

I almost hate to laugh, covering my mouth with both hands in a vain attempt at covering it up. “Aww, poor kid. That’s a shame.”

“He gave up all sports after that. I suppose it was for the best. He turned to computers after that, coding and building.”

“You’re hard on him,” I jokingly chastise.

He smiles, shaking his head. “It’s all in fun. He’s the closest thing to family I have. I’d kill for him, and I know he’d do the same for me.”

We reach the table where several desserts have been laid out: puddings, little cakes, cute little things that look like whoever set them up found the inspiration on Pinterest. I’d bet just about anything that it wasn’t Justin. When you’re wealthy enough, you hire people to do things like that for you.

“Hungry?” Ace loads a plate with the reddest, most luscious looking strawberries I’ve ever seen. They even smell good.  

Of course, after what just happened upstairs, my immediate inclination is to refuse. The last thing any girl who’s been labeled as “fat” wants to do is be seen eating in public, especially after being reminded how ridiculous she looks when standing beside a ripped, impossibly gorgeous man who makes his living by reshaping bodies.

But I am hungry. I haven’t eaten anything since lunch. Why should I refuse myself some food when I’m hungry? Just because somebody might have something to say about it? To hell with them. I look at the pile of strawberries and a crazy image of him feeding them to me floats into my head. Maybe with a blindfold over my eyes. Oh, I’m becoming a sex maniac.

“I’d love some of those strawberries,” I blurt out quickly. “And maybe a little of the chocolate sauce.” To hell with anybody who decides they have a problem with it. It’s damn good.

“And how about a dance once we’re finished?” he asks. “You did promise me one.”

Dance with him? With all these people watching? “Did I? The champagne must have gone to my head.”

He steps closer, overwhelming me with his nearness. “Come on. I’ve been dying for another excuse to get my hands on you.”

An excuse to get his hands on me, in front of all these people. Wouldn’t that just about kill Marissa if she happened to see? I know I shouldn’t care so much over what she thinks about anything, but I’m only human. “All right. Make sure I have another drink in me first, just for the extra confidence.”

“Go on, I know, you know how to move. I’ve seen that for myself,” he says with a wicked wink.

I look around as my cheeks burn furiously. “Ace!”

“It’s true,” he shrugs. “And nobody heard. They’re all too busy with themselves. Don’t worry so much.”

“I don’t worry.” But he’s wrong that nobody’s paying attention to us. We’ve been attracting attention all night, glances and smiles and a few whispers, but nothing as drastic as what Marissa pulled upstairs. Even so, we’re the ‘it’ couple tonight.

The band goes into a slow, jazzy tune I vaguely recognize.

“Ready?” he asks, taking my hand without bothering to wait for an answer. Well, I guess this is better than a fast tune which might have me bouncing out of my dress.

The crowd seems to magically part as we walk through, and of course he chooses a spot in the dead center of the dance floor. I guess men like Ace are used to being in the middle of things. It’s more than likely that he doesn’t even think about it.

He turns to me, taking my right hand in his left and pulling me to him using the hand he’s pressed to my lower back. My left hand rests on his right shoulder. Damn, how do the seams of his shirt and jacket manage to hold up against all these muscles?

And we start to sway.

Our bodies move together without a hint of awkwardness, or even a bit of clumsiness. I’ve never been this graceful in my life. It’s like we’ve been doing this all our lives, with him leading and me following, without the need for either of us to say a word.

The hand on my back tightens, his thumb running along my spine as he directs me. He’s a natural, strong, commanding, and sensual. He leans over me, dipping me back, and a breathless giggle takes my breath away.

When we straighten up, our mouths are only inches from each other. His lips are like a magnet pulling me in, daring me, taunting me, promising so much. I want to lean in and taste them, but hold myself back. It’s enough just to be this near him, letting the music move us the way we moved together in bed.

His thigh slides between my legs, just slightly, but the heat that’s been building there all along burns hotter. I want to slide it further in, to rock myself against him. If I didn’t have an audience… He winds my arm around his neck, our fingers still laced together, and I slide my other hand from his shoulder to the nape of his neck.

He bends his head, brushing his mouth against my throat. “Do you know you taste more delicious than those berries,” he whispers, deliberately breathing in my ear and making me shiver. “I can’t wait to eat you again tonight.”

My hips rock from side to side in response, the sensuality he stirs up in me rising to the surface overwhelming me until I can barely breathe. I want to let my head fall back, to give his mouth access to explore more of my skin, to abandon myself to him and the pleasure he wants to give.

Instead of kissing his way up my throat, the way I want him to, he runs a hand over my side and down to my hip, pulling me to him, and grinding against me. I have to grit my teeth to hold back an audible groan. He chuckles knowingly close to my ear.

How will I ever be able to forget him when this is over? How will I ever be able to dance with another man without comparing him to Ace? Or not feel a sense of longing, loss, and incompleteness now that I know what lust and passion really are? I had no idea before now. In just a single day, my entire life has been turned upside down.

When the music ends, we’re still in the center of the floor, our bodies nearly glued together. He only moves his hands from my back and hip and takes my face between his palms. Letting out a cross between a sigh and a growl, I watch him control in himself what I’m trying to control in me.

His eyes are clear and full of sincerity. He sees me. He really sees me. I can feel his passion, and not just in the pressing of his rigid cock against my thigh, but in the tension of every muscle in his body. In the way his heart races under the palm I rest on his chest.

“You’re a much better dancer than you give yourself credit for,” he whispers, his voice tight and shaking. “I bet you’re much better at everything than you give yourself credit for. I’ll have to find out what else you’re good at that you don’t think you can do.”

God, I want to kiss him. I want to get lost in the eyes that are staring so deep into mine. I want to forget everything that ever came before him and start over, seeing myself the way he sees me.

He sees me as the woman he wants. I can’t believe it. I honestly can’t believe it.

When he looks into my eyes like this, I could just about swear I’m falling in love with him.

“Everybody!”

It takes a second, but we manage to stop staring longingly at each other long enough to turn our attention to Justin, who’s standing on the platform in front of the band with his champagne glass raised high.

“Count down with me!” he calls out, beaming, lifting his wrist so he can follow his watch. “Ten…nine…eight…”

Shit. I almost forgot why we came here in the first place.

I look at Ace. He looks at me, one corner of his lush mouth curving up in a smile.

“Seven…six…five…”

Everybody’s counting down but us. I don’t know that I can find my voice, or raise it loud enough to be heard over the rest of the room.

“Four…three…two…”

I want to be with this man. It makes no sense, it might make me look ridiculous and it might be an insult to him, to his profession, but I don’t give a damn. I want him. I want to keep feeling the way he makes me feel.

“One…”

The room erupts, men and women falling into each other’s arms as streamers and confetti fly through the air. There’s a lot of cheering, a lot of hollering, and a lot of kissing.

The band breaks out into “Auld Lang Syne” and a bunch of the guests begin singing along, drunkenly and with gusto.

And then, there’s us. Just looking at each other. Lost in each other’s eyes. We might as well be the only people in the room. In the world.

“Happy New Year,” I mouth, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear me even if I raised my voice.

“Happy New Year, sweet Dawn.” He pulls me in, eyes searching mine, and my heart just about stops. I can hardly stand it. Is this really happening to me? Things like this don’t happen to me. Men like him—perfect, sexy, masculine, rich as hell—don’t come into the lives of women like me.

And if they do, they sure as heck don’t want to hang around for long. Maybe just a drunken one night stand.

But here he is, holding me, and staring into my eyes while he strokes my back with those strong, skillful hands of his and God, I think I’m am falling in love with him. By the time he leans down to brush his lips against mine, teasing and tempting, I’ve fallen all the way down.