The next day, Michelle continued to swoon over Damien, smiling absentmindedly whenever she thought about him. She’d had the time of her life at Mendoza’s. He was the perfect date, a perfect gentleman and a really good dancer. Boy, could that man move those hips. He had full control of her, his body leading her effortlessly around the dance floor. He was strong, yet gentle, and in command of the music. He was definitely in charge of the situation.
She bit into her bottom lip thinking about what else he’d mastered over the years. She felt herself heating up as she remembered him saying, “Learned how to do some other stuff, too.” She’d have to wait to find out what stuff after he returned from Tampa. She could have easily stayed with him last night but didn’t want to start something she’d have to wait weeks to do again. It was better for her sanity to hold out until they could be together on a regular basis. Besides, it had already been two-and-half years since the last time she got any, what’s another eight weeks?
At least Damien learned that it would take more than one night of dinner and dancing to get her to lose her senses, or her panties for that matter.
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