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something? You must be a professional.” We laugh, and I realize that my headache along with all my tension from the day have both evaporated.
     
    “I did study at Juilliard, so it’s understandable that you’d be intimidated.” His eyes twinkle. “How about we get a couple glasses of wine, and I’ll teach you what I know?” He touches my elbow, and my eyes are glued to his thick lips.
     
    “I’d like that,” my voice is lower as my eyes stay glued on his mouth. His perfectly kissable mouth.
     
    The band breaks out into another cheesy classic, YMCA, and I roll my eyes. “Ugh, who chose this music? I’m putting this on Matthew. There’s no way Kendra ok’d these songs.”
     
    Bradley grins. “Awww, c’mon it isn’t that bad. Let’s go dance, it’ll be fun.” He starts shuffling with his hands pulled in tight to his chest like he stole all the best moves from the junior high prom.
     
    “You must be kidding.” My feet are rooted; I have to draw the line somewhere. “There’s no way you’re getting me out there.”
     
    “You know, they say that on your deathbed it’s the things you don’t do that we regret.”
     
    “Yeah, somehow I don’t think anyone went out clutching their chest and crying that they didn’t do enough cheesy dances.” I laugh as my shoulders soften along with my resistance. The shine on Bradley’s eyes is more intoxicating than this wine. It’s refreshing to see someone so full of life that it’s bursting out of them like an aura. Refreshing and sexy. Maybe I’ve watched too many TV dramas or based my ideas of rich people too much off Matthew Blackwell, but Bradley just seems so grounded compared to how most rich guys are. I bet he isn’t from New York.
     
    He tugs my hand playfully, and I can’t resist. Within seconds, we’re mixed in with the enthusiastic crowd flailing our arms around like cheerleaders missing their pom-poms to the YMCA. Normally I’d feel foolish dancing like this in front of a man like Bradley, but with him it just feels fun.
     
    The music melts into another waltz, and he pulls me into him and tastes my lips, kissing me softly. The tension in my body from his unexpected movement floats away as our tongues collide in their own dance. When he pulls back, it takes me a few seconds to realize that we’re standing still in the middle of a dance floor full of swaying couples. I thought we were dancing too, but it was just the room swirling around me from the head rush. He looks down at me, his eyes are telling me that he wants me as much as my body is begging me to go home with him. Wordlessly, we walk off the floor, knowing that we’re going to head out to someplace more private. Someplace where we can kiss more… naked .
     

 
    Chapter Eight:
    Bradley
     
    The coat room is musty. The racks of unclaimed jackets and overcoats surround us, reminding me of the forts I used to build with my brother as a child. It was incredible how long we could occupy ourselves with nothing but our imaginations and a blanket draped over a couple chairs. It’s so warm in here, I feel like stripping off this heavy suit and leaving it in a puddle on the floor. That gives me an idea.
     
    “You know,” I pull Brianna into me so tight that you couldn’t slip a sheet of paper between us, “I say to hell with damned social graces, I want you right here, right now.” My eyes flit in the direction of the large empty desk outside the door that is currently unattended by the coat check girl that was there earlier.
     
    Pressed skintight against my stiffening cock, I feel her thighs squeeze together, and her nipples become pebbles inside the thin fabric of her dress. For a moment, I consider tearing the gown from her body, but my better sense kicks in and reminds me that she still needs to leave the coat room once I’m done with her. The thought of fucking her in such a risky, public place has me rock hard. Between the wine and Brianna’s sultry smile, it’s all I