TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING novel Chapter 93

CHAPTER 62: DANCING FOR TWO EYES

EMBER’S POV

I turn my back to the VIP section, let my hips sway in slow, sensual circles. Let my hands trail down my

own body–over my breasts, my stomach, my thighs.

Let my head fall back like I’m lost in the music, in the pleasure of my own movement.

When I glance over my shoulder, his jaw is tight and his knuckles are white around his glass.

Good.

“Oh my god,” Queenie cackles. “You’re trying to kill him.”

“I’m just dancing.”

“You’re performing a mating call and you know it.”

Maybe I am. Maybe I want him to want me so badly he can’t stand it.

Maybe I want to drive him crazy the way he’s been driving me crazy since this whole thing started.

The song changes to something heavier, dirtier. The crowd responds with increased intensity–bodies

pressing closer, movements becoming more explicit.

Near us, a couple has given up any pretense of dancing and is straight up dry–humping against a speaker.

Another woman is bent over a table while her alpha grinds against her from behind, both of them fully

clothed but leaving very little to imagination.

I feel drunk and reckless and more alive than I’ve ever been.

“I want to dance on the table,” I announce.

Queenie’s eyes go wide. “What?”

“That table.” I point to one of the elevated platforms near the edge of the dance floor, currently unoccupied. “I want to dance on it.”

“Ember Crawford, you absolute icon.”

“Ember Crawford is dead. Ember Aragon does whatever she wants.”

I push through the crowd before I can lose my nerve. Queenie follows, laughing and cheering me on.

The platform is only about three feet high, but when I climb up, it feels like standing on top of the world.

The lights catch me. The music fills me.

And I dance.

Not for Queenie. Not for the crowd. Not even for myself, really.

–♪

CHAFTFREZ DANCING FOR TWO OEVES

For him.

+25 Points

1 let my body move in ways I’ve never allowed it to move before. Hips rolling in slow, sensual waves.

Hands sliding through my hair, down my neck, across my chest. My dress rides up with every movement, showing more thigh than is probably legal, and I don’t care.

I don’t care about anything except the music and the freedom and the way it feels to finally take up space

without apologizing.

I catch Knox’s eyes from across the room.

He’s not leaning against the railing anymore. He’s standing at full attention, champagne abandoned, every

line of his body taut with tension.

I smile at him.

Them I turn, bend slightly at the waist, and let my hips sway in a way that shows off exactly what he’s not

touching right now.

Even from this distance, I can see his hands clench into fists.

But he’s not the only one watching.

From the other side of the room, near a different VIP section, a pair of dark eyes meets mine.

Rafael.

He’s dressed in all black, leaning against a pillar with a drink in his hand, watching me with an expression I

can’t read from this distance.

Not hungry like Knox. Something more complicated. Appreciative, maybe.

Our eyes hold for just a moment.

Then I deliberately turn back toward Knox, showing Rafael my back, showing him exactly who I’m dancing

for.

I hear Queenie screaming encouragement from below. See strangers watching, some with appreciation,

some with desire.

Feel the power of having every eye in the room on me–the omega who used to make herself invisible now

demanding to be seen.

The song changes again. I keep dancing.

And then Knox is there.

I don’t see him approach. One second I’m alone on the platform, the next his hands are on my hips, his chest pressed against my back, his mouth hot against my ear.

“Dangerous game you’re playing, little wolf.”

HAPTERAR DANCING FOR TWO EYES

His voice is rough. Barely controlled.

“I’m just dancing.”

+25 Points

“You’re driving me fucking insane.” His grip tightens on my hips. “Every man in this room is watching you. Wanting you. And you’re up here putting on a show like you don’t have a king ready to murder anyone who

looks too long.”

“Then maybe you should show them who I belong to.”

The growl that rumbles through his chest vibrates against my spine.

He pulls me off the platform and into his arms in one smooth motion, my feet finding the dance floor as

his body melds with mine.

We move together, grinding to the heavy bass, and it’s nothing like the careful distance we maintained at the Cocktail Reception.

This is possession.

This is madness.

His hands roam freely–up my sides, across my stomach, grazing the underside of my breasts through the

thin fabric of my dress.

His thigh presses between my legs, giving me something to ride as we move. His mouth finds my neck, my

ear, that spot behind my jaw that makes me whimper.

“You like being watched,” he murmurs against my skin. “Like knowing everyone can see you but only I can

touch you.”

I roll my hips against his thigh, the friction sending sparks through my core.

“Maybe I do.”

“Dirty girl.” His hand slides higher, cupping my breast through my dress, his thumb finding my n****e and circling it through the fabric. “What would they think if they knew how wet you’re getting right now? If they knew how badly you want me to bend you over and fuck you right here?”

My breath catches. “Knox-”

୮

“I can smell it.” His nose drags along my neck, inhaling deeply. “Your arousal. So fucking sweet. Making me

crazy.”

His other hand slides down my stomach, fingers playing with the hem of my dress.

We’re still dancing–technically–but every movement is designed to drive me higher, to make me need

more.

I’m dimly aware of other people around us. Other couples doing similar things–or more.

The exhibitionist energy of the club has infected everyone, and no one is paying particular attention to a

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify