Dance (Karen/Frank)
Kastle + dance
Frank’s hands skim her lower back, trailing along the edge of her low-cut dress before pressing gently into her spine to bring her close.
The two of them are blending in, mimicking the slithering movements of the other people on the dance floor, the beat of the music hot on their skin.
Karen reminds herself it’s all a ruse, that the darkly intoxicating pool of desire thrumming in her belly isn’t something she should be feeling, even when his hands travel further south to squeeze and press in even closer.
Just when she thinks maybe he’s forgotten too, forgotten that they’re here looking for a man with with pockets full of death and eyes full of malice, his mouth finds her ear lobe.
His breath hot and thready against her skin, music pulsing inside her, she struggles to hear him say, “Target acquired, time to go.”
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