Meet Scarlett Striker, a bold and quirky journalist for the Seattle Times. She's fun, confident, sassy, and just the right amount of weird. Scarlett is determined to rise to the top, no matter what it takes.
When her boss offers a golden opportunity...
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The music envelops us, and I stride purposefully toward Devin, feeling the rhythm pulse through the floor. He meets me halfway, taking my right hand in his and placing his other hand confidently on my waist. I rest my free hand on his shoulder, and we begin moving in sync, our feet gliding across the floor with precision and grace.
"Wow, you've got some moves," I say, a smile tugging at my lips as Devin spins me out, only to pull me back into his embrace.
"I told you," he replies with a touch of arrogance, his confidence making the dance all the more exhilarating. We sweep across the dance floor in long, fluid strides, pausing now and then to twist or strike a pose that feels perfectly in time with the music.
But just as Devin spins me out once more, something unexpected happens. A firm grip catches my hand mid-spin, and before I can process what's happening, I find myself crashing into another man's chest. His hand rests just above my ass, and his other hand holds mine in a grip that's as commanding as it is familiar.
I look up, and those piercing blue eyes meet mine, staring straight into my soul.
"James?" I ask, my voice tinged with surprise. But my body betrays me—I keep dancing as if I have no other choice.
"Just follow me," he whispers in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. He spins me around, pulling me back so that my back is flush against his front.
I catch a glimpse of Devin, who is now dancing with another woman, his expression a mix of confusion and resignation. But that thought quickly evaporates as James's hands begin to explore, sliding from my waist up the sides of my body. His touch sends a shiver down my spine, making my breath come quicker.
I reach back, threading my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, trying to regain some control. But just as his hands threaten to venture too far, I grab them, halting his progress, and turn to face him with a glare. The motion is fluid, almost as if it were part of the dance.
Unfazed, James captures my hand again, his other hand finding its place on my waist as he resumes guiding me. His movements are confident, almost possessive, and I can't help but be impressed by how seamlessly he commands the dance. We pause briefly, and I extend my leg out with a slow, deliberate grace, only to draw it back in, maintaining the rhythm.
Suddenly, James lifts me effortlessly. I wrap one leg around his thigh while the other points out, feeling the strength in his hold. He lowers me only to lunge forward, and I mirror his movement, my back leg stretching into a deep lunge.
Our bodies move together as if they've done this a thousand times before. I meet his gaze, finding it hard to look away from the intensity in his eyes. He suddenly turns me around, his hands gripping my hips as he pulls me against him, the connection between us electric. I sway my hips, feeling the heat between us rise, but before I can lose myself in it, he spins me back around, his eyes dark with lust.
