Page 75 of The Catch

"Thanks for the dance," I say. "I'll go to my friends now."

He doesn't let me go. "One more dance."

I push away again. He still doesn't let me go.

"I'm going to my friends," I insist.

"Can I get your number?"

"It's not going to work."

"How do you know?"

"She knows."

I whip my face to Saint. His look is menacing on Brad, and his voice hard.

"Let her go," Saint demands.

My mouth hangs open.

"You're—" Brad frowns in surprise. "You play for the Strike—"

"Let. Her. Go." Saint steps closer to us.

I'm free.

Brad lifts his hands like saying,no harm done.

Saint keeps his eyes on the blond man in front of us, and shifts his body until he stands between Brad and I.

"All good," Brad turns and mutters something I can barely make out, but sounds like,you better win us the championship, you dick.

Saint faces me. "Everything okay?"

My heart is beating a hundred beats a minute, but it's mostly the shock of Saint's sudden appearance. Brad is already less than an afterthought.

The fact Saint looks amazing in tailored black pants and a blue-gray satin shirt, printed with large tropical flowers in shades of burgundy and pale yellow, only adds to my body'sresponse.

I have to tear my eyes away from his chest, and the patch of skin calling for my lips in front of me.

"I— yes," I say. "Thank you."

"May I?" He offers me a hand.

I take it and he brings me close. Gently, he guides my body to move slow.

"Did you want to dance?" he asks.

I put my hands on his shoulders and smile. "I would love to."

This.Thisfeels good.

Saint holds me, one hand on the round of my hip and the other one on my back. He gazes at me and we start swaying to the music.

We're transported to that first night when we danced together. Except he studies me like he's checking if I'm doing alright.

"Thank you," I say.