“Are you guys ready to dance yet?” she asked. The guys looked at the dance floor, then at each other. They weren’t budging.

“’Tis no’ proper dancing,” McKale said. “Not one of ‘em are doing the same steps.”

“There aren’t any steps,” Cass explained. “That’s the fun of it! You just move your body to the beat of the music.”

“Ye’re sayin’ there’s no way to bung it up, then?” Rock asked.

Cass and I shrugged at each other. We’d definitely seen some bad dancing in our time. But that was the least of our concerns tonight.

“How about this,” she said. “You two have another drink, loosen up, and watch while Robyn and I dance. And then if you want to come down, you can come. No pressure.”

They agreed, and before I had a chance to take one last sip of my drink, Cass yanked me from the stool and dragged me to the dance floor. The moment we were nestled in the midst of moving bodies, we let go, arms in the air. It felt awesome.

As the song changed to something grittier, Cass put her face close to mine, shouting to be heard.

“McKale has been watching you the whole time!” I tried not to smile. I didn’t look over at him, afraid I’d ruin the moment by tripping and going down like someone on a treadmill who’d lost their concentration.

After a few minutes Cassidy signaled to Rock, curling her finger to lure him. She bit her bottom lip and then turned back to me, never losing the beat.

“They’re coming!” she said.

My heart sped up. “Both of them?” I hollered.

She nodded, cool and nonchalant.

Suddenly I was nervous. McKale, my sweet fiddle player, was making an effort even though he was way out of his comfort zone. What if he ended up hating this whole dance experience? What if it was just awkward?

My pulse went into rocket-launch mode when Rock’s curly head found Cassidy, and she turned to him, bouncing. And then I felt McKale behind me, timid. He was being bumped into me, and his chest touched my back. I turned my head just enough to show him an easy smile as I reached back for his hands and led them to my hips. His touch was gentle. I kept my hands pressed over top of his until his grip became firmer. I was so nervous. I wanted this nearness, and I didn’t want to screw it up.

More people joined the already crowded dance floor, forcing everyone closer. It was now or never. Time to be bold. I leaned back into him, just as a hip-hop song began, bass thumping. His reaction surprised me. With the slightest hesitance, he pulled my hips until our bodies matched up, aligned.

My breathing became jagged as I reached back, putting my hands on his hips. I started moving mine to the tempo of the music, slowly at first. He met me move for move, so I deepened the pace until we were both dancing. Really dancing. Cassidy took a moment from her groping session with Rock to look over and mouth dramatically, “Oh, my gah!” when she saw us. I just smiled.

My Leprechaun had rhythm. And it was hot in a way that made me dizzy. I let myself lean back hard against him, raising my arms to the air and moving my hips. I could feel his breath on my hair, against my ear and neck. His hands roamed, but not too far. Just over my waist and hips, down the top of my thighs. Arms still lifted, I bent my elbows and brought my hands behind me to his head, sliding my fingers into his hair. He nuzzled my neck and I was suddenly on fire.

Killer moths attacked my abdomen as I turned, wrapping my arms around his neck and fitting my curves to him, still dancing. His hands found my lower back. I was about to ask him what he thought of the club when the look in his eyes silenced me.

He watched my mouth, slowly leaning in, and I forgot about everything around us.

Oh, my… was he about to…?

The first touch of his lips was measured and timid—the perfect picture of the McKale I’d met on our first day. We breathed against each other’s parted lips until I dared to let my tongue touch the soft fullness I’d admired the night before. That action was like a lit match to a firecracker.

Moving quickly with masculine instinct, one of his hands stayed on my lower back, pressing our hips together, while his other hand found the back of my neck and tugged me to him, hard, in a gesture of possession that had me moaning when his mouth opened mine with his own. Unlike my previous failed kisses, this one was the perfect combination of lips and tongues and hands. There was nothing shy about it. I was meeting this McKale for the first time. This was a McKale I wanted to get to know much better.

I loved the way he smelled and tasted. Hops and barley on the surface from his drinks, but something sweeter underneath: the licorice root he liked to chew. As we kissed, I ran a hand over his cheek, feeling where his smooth skin met the rougher line of hair along his jaw. Every contour amazed me.

I tried to reign in my self-control since I found myself practically climbing him for more, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed just as hungry for more of me.

I knew part of my desperation stemmed from the fact that someone very powerful wanted to keep us apart, but I wouldn’t allow thoughts of her to surface. I let myself breathe him in. We had this moment, right now, and nobody could take it away.

We finally broke the kiss, followed-up with several more slow little smooches until we were ready to look at each other. He was half-grinning as if he couldn’t hold it back. Leaning into my ear, he said, “I fancy yer form of dance.”

I laughed. With my arms still around his neck, I pulled him down and put my lips to his ear.