Hooked #3 (The Hooked Romance Series - Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

and back into his body. I
felt the heat emanating from his strong, muscled chest. “A crazy
family of dancing, of laughter, of love. It’s quite beautiful. I wish
you could meet all of them.”
    I beamed my head this way, then that. “You wouldn’t
want to meet my family.” I thought of my mother, honed with such anger, such
resentment back in her Indianapolis home. She was waiting for my failure, for
my phone call demanding money—anything. But I wouldn’t give it to her.
    Sensing a bit of sadness in me, Drew led me from the
dance floor and ordered us more drinks. He spent the rest of the evening
distracting me; from my money problems, from my loan. He made jokes and sang
songs; he spun me in circles in the spotlight, making everyone notice. “Who is
that stunning man and woman out on the floor, dancing so beautifully?” so many
people wondered.
    I had never been such a Cinderella; I had never been
so envied, so hated by the most beautiful, richest people of Chicago. Feeling their
eyes trace my slim frame, my strong arms, I felt electric—like the rush of the
strings from the orchestra. I felt like nothing was impossible.

 
    We stayed deep into the night. Before we left, I
noted that Drew had to make a donation. I watched as he wrote the check, but I
couldn’t quite make out how much he had donated. Quite a bit, I was sure. I
watched as the elderly woman he handed the check to nod at it with approval,
bringing her white, stark eyebrow high over her eagle eye.
    Drew placed his hand on my lower back, leading me
away from the dying party. I could still hear the strings playing, but the
fingers, the arms of the musicians were tired, lackluster. My feet ached. As we
flung ourselves into the front seat of the Porsche, I removed the shoes,
feeling the way my feet throbbed in their freedom. I leaned my head back
against the seat, loving the rushing street lamps, hearing the city as it went
to sleep.
    Drew helped me up the steps to our separate
apartments, taking me step by step. I could feel the champagne coursing in my
veins, and the drunkenness was putting me to sleep. When we reached our floor,
I stood by my doorway, looking up at him with earnest doe-eyes. I longed to
invite him in in that moment. But I knew I couldn’t. I knew the world we had
just visited together was his world, and this grim
apartment—this sad-sack place around us—was my world. I couldn’t enter into his
permanently, and he couldn’t stay in mine forever, either.
    Suddenly, he leaned his face toward mine, bringing
his lips closer and closer. I lifted my fingers above my lips, halting him with
a small whisper, “Don’t.”
    He reared back, his eyes a bit hurt. He cleared his
throat. “I’m sorry. I apologize. I realize this was just a friendly encounter
between two friends.” His eyes swept from left to right. He leaned toward me
again. “But I have to say, it was one of the best nights—between friends—that
I’ve ever had.”
    My heart hummed with this knowledge. I slipped my
key in the lock before he stopped me one final time.
    “One more thing,” he murmured. “Do you want to go on
another not-date with me, perhaps next weekend?”
    I raised my eyebrow, feeling exhaustion take hold of
me from the continuous night of play, of dance. “Next
weekend?”
    “A weekend trip, actually. Just
one night. Not a date, of course.”
    I nodded, feeling the information parse through my
brain. He had taken me on so many adventures so far; the Cub’s game, bungee
jumping, and dancing at the benefit. What harm would one more night do?
Especially if he knew we were just friends? He could behave. And so could I.
“All right. Just one more night,” I answered.
    I pushed at the door, hearing it creak throughout
the hall. My eyes blinked up at him, unable to rip themselves away. His want
for me emanated on my skin; it was hot in my stomach. I longed for him to take
me, right there in the grimy hallway. But I knew it wasn’t time.
    “So.