Oceans

One Dance

"You're revolting," Asa said, as she turned to put her, now empty, glass onto a serving tray. "I can't believe women actually find you attractive."

She reached for a fresh glass, but Liam whisked her away, with an arm around her waist. "No more, champagne, Asa. You wanted a demonstration, and you're getting one."

What was that saying? You get what you ask for? Asa was regretting asking for a demonstration as Liam pulled her toward the dance floor. Mathison was now swaying with his new wife, having completed the choreographed dance while they had been talking. When he saw the pace with which Liam stalked toward the dance floor with Asa in tow, he raised his eyebrows in question at Asa.

Asa had always loved the way she and Mathison seemed to communicate without words. But right now, it was a nuisance.

Are you alright? He asked. Should I whack him over the head for you?

Asa shook her head mutely in answer. No, don't worry.

Mathison's expression changed to shock. He's not going to dance with you - is he?

Asa smiled meekly. I asked for it.

Mathison's eyebrows rose higher. Asa could no longer see them because they were obscured under his hair.

Asa snorted. Stop stretching your face like that - your wife may no longer find you attractive if she sees you now.

Or at least, that's what she thought she said, until Mathison's expression shuttered and he gazed at Kate with renewed interest, steering his bride clear of their path.

Maybe he saw it - Liam and Asa in close proximity - for what it really was. Mutually Assured Destruction. And he didn't want his wife in the bomb radius.

She moved to step toward him, hoping he hadn't gotten the wrong idea, and needing to set him straight if he had, before Liam stepped in front of her, obscuring her view of Mathison. Asa sighed, she'd have to find and talk with Mathison later.

Asa was tall, tall enough that her eyes were level with Liam's luscious lips. She found herself wondering how many women he had kissed with those lips. How many women he had whispered sweet nothings to. Her blood boiled beneath her skin and she reached for his hands in a punishing grip.

"No," Liam said, "like this." He moved one of her hands to his waist and then clasped the other in his hand. The heat of his palm rocked through her, and she could imagine those hands skating over her body, alleviating the tightness of her peaked nipples, then his long fingers burying deep inside her.

What was going on with her? Why was she having such sordid thoughts about Liam? Liam who she'd know her whole life. Liam who'd she'd wingwomaned for on occasion. Not that he needed the help now, women practically leapt into his bed, falling over themselves to be another notch on his bedpost.

Asa was not one of them. In fact, now she had taken on the role of his overprotective mother, trying to shoo the women away with assurances of his aversion to commitment, and high likelihood of venereal disease, but still they kept coming.

Asa's lips twisted at the irony of that thought. Liam had kept them coming. Literally. Sometimes Asa wondered what it was like to be that assured of your prowess in bed. Or what it would be like to have someone take care of your satisfaction immeasurably, who never left you wanting. Asa never wanted to admit that she had a grudging respect for Liam's... horizontal tango... a woman had yet to complain. He always made sure it was a pleasurable experience for both.