River’s End

feet.
    “Are we leaving?”
    “No, we’re joining.”
    Now the panic came, fast and hard to fill her chest. “No, I can’t.” She tried to pull her hand free as he headed for the dance floor. “I don’t dance.”
    “Everyone dances.”
    “No, really.” Her skin went hot all over, burning from the inside out. “I don’t know how.”
    They were on the edge of the dance floor, surrounded, closed in. and his hands were on her hips. His face was close. “Just move.” His body did just that against hers, and turned the panic into a different, deeper, far more intimate fear. “It doesn’t matter how.”
    He guided her hips, side to side, shifted so that they moved in a small circle. The music was fast, driven by a frenzied riff on an electric guitar and the vocalist’s roar. Beside them someone let out a wild laugh. Someone bumped her hard from behind and brought her up against Noah, curves to angles, heat to heat. Her hands gripped his shoulders now. Her face was flushed, her eyes, dark and wide, on his, her lips parted as the breath rushed in and out. Through all the scents—the clash of perfume, sweat, spilled beer—he smelled only her. Fresh and quiet, like a meadow.
    “Olivia.” She couldn’t hear his voice, but watched in dazed amazement as her name formed on his lips. It seemed that the only thing inside her now was the warm, sweet longing.
    “The hell with it.” He had to have her, if only one taste. His arms wrapped tight around her waist, urging her up to her toes. He felt the quick intake of her breath, and the tremble that followed it. And hesitated, hesitated, drawing out the moment, the now, the ache and the anticipation until they were both reeling from it. Then he brushed his mouth over hers, soft, smooth. Nibbled her in. patient pleasure. Slid into her silkily, as if he’d always belonged there.
    He heard her moan, low and long, over the thunder in his own blood. Slow, easy, he ordered himself. Sweet God. He wanted to dive, to devour, to demand more and still more as the surprisingly sharp, stunningly sexy taste of her flooded through him. Her body was pressed against his, slender and strong. Her arms had locked around his neck, holding on. Holding him. Her mouth was full, and just shy enough to speak of innocence.
    Just a little more, he thought and changed the angle of the kiss to take it. The music crashed around them, building to a frenzy of guitars, a feral pounding of drums, a shouting stream of voices.
    And she floated, drifted, glided. She imagined herself a single white feather, weightless, spinning slowly, endlessly, through the soft green light of the forest. Her heart swelled and its beat quieted to a thick, dull thud. The muscles in her stomach loosened and dipped. As she skimmed her fingers into his hair, tipped her head back in surrender, she could have wept from the discovery.
    This, she thought, is life. Is beginnings. Is everything.
    “Olivia.” He said her name again, ended the kiss while he still had the power to do so, then just nudged her head to the curve of his shoulder.
    The band ripped into another number, pumping the crowd to a fever pitch. While they swayed together in the melee, Noah wondered what the hell he was going to do now.
    He kissed her again at her door, and this time she felt little licks of heat from him, quick riffs of frustration that were oddly thrilling. Then he was closing the door between them and leaving her staring blankly at the solid panel of wood. She pressed a hand to her heart. It was beating fast, and wasn’t that wonderful? This was what it was like to be in love, to be wanted. She held the feeling close, closing her eyes, savoring it. Then her lids flew open again.
    She should have asked him in. What was wrong with her? Why was she such an idiot around men? He’d wanted her, she was sure of it. She wanted him. Finally there was someone who made her feel.
    She flung open her door, raced down the steps, and burst outside just as his car pulled away from the curb. She watched the red taillights wink away and wondered why she could never quite match her pace to anyone else’s.
    He worked through the morning. And thought about calling her a dozen times. Then he shut down his laptop and changed into sweat shorts. The punishing workout he subjected himself to in the hotel’s gym helped purge some of the guilt and frustration.
    He needed to change directions, he decided as he did a third set of curls with free weights. He should