Page 78 of One Billion Reasons

“Let’s dance.”

“Dance?” My mouth has a mind of its own around her, I swear. My lips are curving up against my will. “I’m not much of a dancer anymore.”

“But we used to go. Remember?” She’s sparkling with happiness. Because of me, I think. My insides feel like I’ve guzzled a bucket of champagne.

“I remember. How could I forget? You always wore that tiny dress with the flippy skirt.” I groan softly. “And you always wanted to dance with me. Not with anyone else.”

“You were safe,” she protests, pushing at my chest. “It was fun.”

“Fun? Yes. Torture? Also yes. And I think our definitions of safe might be different.”

“Come on. It will be like old times.” She leads me to the dance floor, where the band is playing funk music. The crowd is thick and we slip in with ease. Lane is a pretty good dancer, and she used to move in a way I found absolutely mesmerizing. She always brings others into her orbit when she’s on the dance floor, too. She’s grinning and moving her hips and raising her arms in the air.

“You’re all stiff. Let’s go old man. Show me the moves.” Her eyes are flashing and she makes a ‘come on’ motion with her hand.

I do have moves. A few. From when Lane made me take a dance class with her in college. I look around furtively and do a spin on my heel, and pull her against my chest.

She’s gasping and laughing, so beautiful I can’t look away.

“Those moves?” I wag my eyebrows.

“I knew you still had it. That class wasn’t a waste after all.”

“Not a waste at all,” I agree. “Especially because I got to do this.” I fit her body against mine, swaying a little, then dip her down until she starts to laugh. When I pull her up again, she’s pink and flustered. “I always loved doing that.”

She rolls her eyes. “You just liked feeling me up.”

My hand drops to her low back and I press my lips to the pulse in her neck. “That too,” I growl. The way she shivers when my lips brush over her skin makes some animal part of me thrill.

The song switches. A slow dance now. So I hold Lane close and she tucks into my chest like she belongs there.

“We never did this,” she murmurs.

“Not a lot of slow dancing in dance class.”

“I always wanted to,” she says softly. “I always felt like I was never allowed to touch you. And now I can.” She leans back to look me in the eye. “I think that might be the very best part.”

“I agree.” We sway a bit longer, until Lane says, “Let’s get out of here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to spend time with you. Catherine is convinced. Everyone else here, too. Let’s do something.”

“What did you have in mind?” I run my hands down her sides, lingering at the dip of her waist, where the boning of the dress turns into a cascade of silver silk.

“I want to go to the Montauk house.”

I freeze. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

My shirt feels too tight. I need air.

“We should go.” Her face is stubborn. “We can’t come out here and not go. Besides, I’ll be there, too. You won’t be alone.”

I haven’t been there since that night. I swallow hard and nod my head. “Okay.”

The hotel gets the car my driver left, and I drive us over in silence. The moon is bright, illuminating Lane’s profile through the moonroof.

“You need directions?” Lane asks in the hushed interior.

---