Playing with Fire by Tacie Graves

I felt him before I saw him.  I could sense him as he approached, a purposeful crawl through the crowd of people that brought him up right behind me.
     
    “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?  Hiding among the grand dames—a peacock amongst the pigeons.”
     
    His voice was as dark as his eyes, and I drew in a breath to settle the butterflies that had taken up residence in my stomach.
     
    “I wasn’t hiding,” I answered.  “I was just watching the people.  They are all so beautiful—so glamorous.  It’s like a movie.”
     
    “You’re the one being watched,” Hades replied as he spun me around in his arms.  “Every man in this room… they can’t keep their eyes off of you.”
     
    I responded to the pressure he was placing against my side and he led me out onto the dance floor.  He was tall and elegant—dark, crisply curling hair and even darker eyes.  His skin was tanned from the Greek Island sun and his hands were large and calloused from sailing.  I breathed in and was swamped with his scent: Cyprus lime and spice and amber, all underlined with the uniquely masculine scent of *him*.
     
    His eyes were hot as they trailed over me, taking in the dress that I’d worn at his request.  Its halter top cut high on my breasts, and the dark blue of the skirt split away at the thigh exposing almost all of my leg as we danced.  I knew that he enjoyed the view—I could feel him hard and hot against my leg already.
     
    “Since you spent all your time hiding in the shadows, I think it’s time for you to be seen, now, don’t you think?” Hades said offhandedly as he led us further out into the throng of dancers.  The lights were dim and the music slow and sultry and I followed him without hesitation.
     
    “I don’t think anyone is actually looking,” I answered. “But I love dancing with you—you make it so easy to follow.”
     
    “Well, then,” he murmured into my ear, his breath sending shivers away down my sides, “we’ll just have to give them something to look at, won’t we?”
     
    With that he raised his arms across my back, and I felt his hand dip inside the halter of my dress.
     
    “Hades!” I whispered frantically, “What do you think you’re doing?”
     
    His fingers circled my nipple and I could feel my gut tighten in anticipation.
     
    “What do you think I’m doing,” he answered coolly.  His fingers didn’t stop their gentle torment, though.
     
    I took a deep breath only to find that it pressed my breast even more firmly into his grasp and he squeezed it firmly, catching the nipple between two fingers.
     
    “Don’t move,” he ordered.  “I will take care of everything, but you must stop moving.”  His eyes were black and his patrician visage could have been carved in marble and seemed fitting.  His lips were mobile, and his lower lip was full and I was consumed with a desire to take it between my teeth.  Hades wouldn’t allow that, though, so instead I leaned my head forwards a fraction and rested it on his shoulder.
     
    Taking my movement as acquiescence, his hand resumed its journey.  His whole hand was under the top of my dress, the calluses on his fingers dancing against my tender skin, each pass more intense than the last.  I was panting lightly as the excitement built, the electricity coursing through me, crackling under my skin.
     
    I looked up through my lashes and met Hades’ eyes.  He looked enrapt—a man possessed— I closed my eyes against the intensity of his gaze, and I felt a flush spread over my skin as my desire grew.
     
    My body was still gently swaying to the music as he guided us around the floor.  I could feel bodies as they passed and I shivered at the thought of them watching as Hades played with my body, there in the open, for anyone to see.
     
    He finally led me to a quieter space on the edge of the floor, still exposed, but a little darker.  I felt him inhale and his hand returned to my breast, pinching my nipple