A/N: This one-shot is inspired by a gif on tumblr (foip dot me slash 114h9Xk) and the song that plays in this scene is 'Loose' by Spank Rock. I don't intend to write it from the other side, but will consider it if you try to persuade me. Enjoy :)


The beat is thumping, pulsing through his chest and trying to compete with his heart to pump his blood around his body. They've been in the club barely three minutes and he's already regretting the velvet jacket, a sheen of perspiration prickling on his cheeks. All around them, couples are grinding against each other in what qualifies as dancing these days but she's all he can see. Or would see, if he opened his eyes.

But he doesn't. The music, the noise, the heat, the sweat. His body is already in sensory overload before she even leans in. So he closes his eyes as she lightly grazes his chest with her hands, his heart beating hard just under the pressure points of her fingertips. Her forehead tickles his ear when she speaks loudly enough to be heard over the music, but her breath is there too, sending electric shocks to his toes from the intimacy.

She's doing it on purpose. She's always been a teasing, evil woman. But wow, she is definitely all woman tonight, ridiculously high heels and tiny dress, shimmering eyes, and hair that looks like he's already tousled his hands through it when they were kissing in the Ferrari. He wishes they'd kissed in the Ferrari. If they'd been kissing in the Ferrari they would never have made it into the club.

He's not even sure what she says in his ear. Something about 'us' and 'drinks', but he hears 'us' and his concentration is gone. Her voice is barely there, sultry like a summer's night in the Deep South, comforting like the first rain that clears the air in autumn, fresh like the dew in spring, and sending shivers down his neck like fresh snow falling on the pine trees in the Rockies. Her hair is glancing over his cheek and he has to keep his hands in fists to stop himself from reaching up to touch it, feel its softness on his fingertips.

He's enchanted by her, entranced by her very presence, her entire being, mind, body, and soul. And right now, in this loud, hot, sweaty club, he doesn't care who sees his adoration, his heart on his sleeve, because the only person he can see is her. His eyes flicker open and see the lights making her earrings twinkle like stars but he has to shut his eyes again. He doesn't trust himself to keep from leaning down and capturing her neck with his lips if he sees any more of it.

Then she's stepping away, leaving his bubble of personal space with a flick of her hair and a final stroke of her fingertips down his stomach. His body follows hers, canting to her side, catching a last breath of her scent, cherries, and car leather, and skin, and his eyebrow flicks up to betray his increasingly wicked train of thought. He can only hope she doesn't look over shoulder and catch him standing like a statue dedicated to worshipping her. Just her. Only her. Always her. His whole body thrums with her name, Kate, Kate, Kate.