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Drawn like a moth to a flame, he pushed off the bar and stepped onto the dance floor, straight into the fire.
Tara felt him before she saw him.
A shift in the air. A presence—tall, commanding, intoxicatingly close.
When she turned, she found eyes dark with intent, hunger barely restrained. He wasn’t just watching her. He was claiming her with a single look.
The music slowed, sultry, coaxing.
Adi lifted a brow, his lips quirking. "You always dance like this?"
Tara smirked, running a teasing hand through her hair. "Only when someone’s watching."
His jaw ticked. "Then let’s make it worth their while."
He stepped in, close—so close she could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of whiskey and something purely male.
She matched his rhythm, pressing her back against his chest, rolling her hips in slow, sinful circles.
Adi’s hands hovered, teasing, not touching—yet. His breath ghosted against her neck, his lips barely an inch away.
"You’re dangerous," he murmured.
Tara let out a soft, knowing laugh. "And you’re enjoying every second of it."
His fingers finally brushed her hips, a light graze, a test. She didn’t pull away. If anything, she pressed closer, tilting her head, offering him the expanse of her throat.
Adi exhaled sharply, restraint fraying. His hands found her waist, gripping, guiding her hips against his in a slow, maddening grind.
Fuck.
Heat coiled low in his stomach, tight, electric.
Tara turned in his arms, their faces inches apart. Her eyes flickered to his lips, then back up, taunting.
Adi smirked. "You play with fire, sweetheart."
Her nails dragged down his chest, slow, teasing. "And you look like the kind of man who enjoys getting burned."
His grip tightened.
"Careful," he murmured, voice dark, promising. "I might just ruin you."
Tara’s lips curled.
"Then what are you waiting for?"
Drawn like a moth to a flame, he pushed off the bar and stepped onto the dance floor, straight into the fire.
Tara felt him before she saw him.
A shift in the air. A presence—tall, commanding, intoxicatingly close.
When she turned, she found eyes dark with intent, hunger barely restrained. He wasn’t just watching her. He was claiming her with a single look.
The music slowed, sultry, coaxing.
Adi lifted a brow, his lips quirking. "You always dance like this?"
Tara smirked, running a teasing hand through her hair. "Only when someone’s watching."
His jaw ticked. "Then let’s make it worth their while."
He stepped in, close—so close she could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of whiskey and something purely male.
She matched his rhythm, pressing her back against his chest, rolling her hips in slow, sinful circles.
Adi’s hands hovered, teasing, not touching—yet. His breath ghosted against her neck, his lips barely an inch away.
"You’re dangerous," he murmured.
Tara let out a soft, knowing laugh. "And you’re enjoying every second of it."
His fingers finally brushed her hips, a light graze, a test. She didn’t pull away. If anything, she pressed closer, tilting her head, offering him the expanse of her throat.
Adi exhaled sharply, restraint fraying. His hands found her waist, gripping, guiding her hips against his in a slow, maddening grind.
Fuck.
Heat coiled low in his stomach, tight, electric.
Tara turned in his arms, their faces inches apart. Her eyes flickered to his lips, then back up, taunting.
Adi smirked. "You play with fire, sweetheart."
Her nails dragged down his chest, slow, teasing. "And you look like the kind of man who enjoys getting burned."
His grip tightened.
"Careful," he murmured, voice dark, promising. "I might just ruin you."
Tara’s lips curled.
"Then what are you waiting for?"
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