The thing was, I didn't even realize it was him, until he tugged me toward him. So hard that I gasped and stumbled into his arms, our chests nearly colliding against each other. His expressions were so stiff, almost dark, like the mask he was wearing. They made me squirm.

"Hi," I breathed out in his tight grip, and he pressed me closer than necessary to his chest. I was unable to comfortably dance anymore. For some reason unknown to me, he looked mad. Not subtle mad, or cute mad. It was I-want-to-rip-off-a-head mad.

I mentally replayed everything I did in the last two hours, trying to point out anything that could potentially piss him off. I came up empty-handed.

Well, I guess we had something to discuss later on.

As I stepped back for the spin, he tugged me back again, this time my back against his chest. I was breathless by the force of his movements. There was nothing soft or gentle about him. And weirdly enough, I was liking this more than the others I had danced with.

"I thought you wouldn't dance." His ragged breath blew over my ears and neck, voice hoarse and definitely pissed.

"Well, I like dancing." I said, trying to ignore the stirring heat at the pit of my stomach. My turn to pass on to the next man came, but I didn't make it.

I was still pressed against Ian's chest.

Ian didn't let go of me as the lady beside spun a circle, stopped before us, chuckled shyly, then moved toward the next guy. My cheeks heated up as a few eyes lingered over us knowingly, and the others seemed to be used to it. We were out of beat, out of sync with others, but it didn't even bother me.

I was in Ian's arms, and there was nowhere else I would rather be.

"I don't like it." His voice fell on my ears, almost inaudible under the music. And his grip on my wrist tightened to aware me of his words. "They were all touching you."

Oh. I wanted to smile, but I couldn't. He was so close. So warm. He was everywhere.

"One more man touches you like that, Maeve and I will lose my shit." He said, just as he turned me around to face him.

We locked eyes.

We stopped dancing.

Something shifted in the atmosphere. Ian's throat moved with a gulp, my eyes lingered over his mouth, and before I could speak, he shook his head in exasperation.

"Come," he reached down and grabbed my hand, rudely tugging me out of the circle.

"Ian, wait-"

A few people shot us a wide-eyed look, others smiled, and I awkwardly ducked my head down. But Ian didn't stop.

He walked us through and then away from the crowd, walking in fast and hurried strides, as if chasing after something. My heart was banging against my ribcage, haunting to jump out and into the hands of this man who was dragging me toward the flight of stairs. He didn't slow down.

The stairways were empty. Everyone was out there enjoying the party.

"Ian, wait. I can't walk so fast in these heels. Slow down." I said, already out of breath.

Ian stopped and turned, looked down at my heels, and his jaws clenched immaculately. I had just a few seconds to admire it, when he stooped down and picked me up effortlessly, throwing me over his shoulders in one swift move.

I almost let out a shriek and grabbed onto his shoulder as he climbed up the stairs with the same urgent speed. As if I didn't weigh anything. I was barely aware when we climbed up the stairs, and moved into the dimly lit hallway. But I saw the mask he was wearing being flung across the floor on the way. And...and...that was hot-

When Ian came to a stop, his ragged breathing was all that I heard, and my own shallow pants. The music was soft and distant, like the brush of the night air across us.

His fingers tightened where he was holding me at my upper thighs, and finally he set me down.

I got approximately zero seconds to analyze the surrounding other than the giant floor-to-ceiling windows over me, because Ian moved, grabbed me and pushed me against the glass, pinning me in place with his body.

My hands flew to his shoulders, and a low gasp slipped through me when his hips pushed against my stomach, roughly, with barely contained need.

Hard. He was hard. And so warm, almost hot. The heat crawling into my own body now.

"Maeve," my name rumbled through his chest like a warning, a sweet threat, as he held my face in his palms. "My beautiful Maeve," his fingers reached for the ribbon of the mask behind my head and he undid it, before swinging it across the room. "So beautiful..." He stared down at me, eyes like two dancing blue flames, heating me up to the core.

"Ian..." I was panting. He was panting. We were out of breath and sharing a breath at the same time. My hands fell to his forearms as he tipped my face up to his. His eyes longingly stared at my mouth, thumb skimming my lower lip.

"I need to kiss you, Maeve," I heard the urgency in his voice before it sank down into my bones and flourished into something more from inside. "If I don't kiss you right now, I don't think I will survive this night. I can't..." He brought my face closer, and pressed our foreheads together. His warm, unsteady breathing fanning my lips so delicately. "Please tell me you want it too. Please Maeve..."

His body pressed me against the glass, and knee pushed up between my thighs, holding me firm in place. It was so raw, so vulnerable, watching him beg for a kiss, hearing him confess how much he needed it, that there was no other answer I could give him.

Only one. The truth.

"Kiss me, Ian." My words were barely a breath. "I need it too. I need you to-" The remaining words didn't leave my lips, because his mouth sealed over mine.

He was kissing me. Ian, my gorgeous considerate psychiatrist was kissing me.

A hundred million fireflies awoke and danced inside me, and heat assimilated at the pit of my stomach as Ian claimed my mouth. So fiercely, mercilessly. I could feel his words in his kiss. The need. His tongue thrusted into my mouth, unexpected, touching, teasing, tasting every corner reachable. He tasted like red wine and passion; so much of burning, unending passion, and raw possessiveness. It had been so long since I was kissed by anyone that I had forgotten how good it felt. To be ravished like this. Like I was the air he needed to breathe and he would actually not live without it.

When he pulled back, we were both breathless. His eyes remained closed for a few seconds and he heaved heavily, as if absorbing the effects of the kiss. When they opened, the blue eyes bore into mine with a heat that touched my skin, and burned me down till my flesh.

"Just once more, please." He kissed me again, and the back of my head met the glass behind me with the force of his mouth. He sucked on my lips, and nibbled on it. My stomach coiling and uncoiling deliciously as my fingers unfroze and found their way over his shoulders to his hair. They slipped into his soft locks and I fisted my hand, pulling him closer. If that was even possible. The only thing separating us right now were the clothes.

I broke the kiss, seeking air.

"You taste better than I imagined." Ian shook his head. "I can't get enough of you, Maeve." Pushing a stray curl out of my face and behind my ear, he stared at me intently. I closed my eyes, and let his words make me dizzy as they always did. I didn't want to think straight. Because if I did, I was afraid this would all be a dream, and it was time to wake up soon.

"More." He said. "I need more. I need to taste you again, baby." His fingers slipped into my hair, grabbing the base of my neck and tilting my head back. I let out a soft moan when his warm, possessive mouth latched onto my neck. All tongues and teeth and rippling pleasure.

"Do it." With my fingers still threading his hair, I pulled him closer. His lips trailed up, tracing my jaws and settled at the corner of my mouth.

"Not here, sweetheart. The way I want to taste you might require me to get you out of this dress, onto my bed, and your legs over my shoulder." He rasped, and his hips pressed into me so intimately that I felt him growing and hardening through his pants, against my belly.

My lips parted and I inhaled all the breath I needed, because I was ready to lose all of it tonight. I surely was going to.

"Take me home, Ian. Please, take me home with you."