Page 115 of Staying Selfless

“But your ankle.”

“I can handle one dance with my girlfriend.”

“But—”

“For fuck’s sake, Logan. Just dance with me.” Eli has far too much amusement in his tone.

Mary tries to hide her snicker by taking a sip from her glass, but we both heard it.

“Fine. One dance, but then you need to put your ankle up.”

Eli gives his crutches to his stepmom as he takes my hand in his, leading me out to the dance floor.

He quickly spins me out before pulling me into his body, one hand sliding to my lower back, pressing me into him, the other out to the side, holding mine.

“Umm,” I say with confusion, a little speechless by how gracefully he just did that.

“All I said was that I didn’t dance. I never said I wasn’t good at it.”

I scoff with a bit of mock frustration as the next song begins to play. Does my talented guy really have to be good at dancing, too? Yes, of course, he does. And he is.

“Perfect timing.” Eli runs his hands over my arms, draping them over his shoulders before his palms fall down my back, settling just above my ass.

“Did you request this song?”

Eli doesn’t respond, but his satisfied smile tells me he did.

The guitar strings begin to fill the room. “I love this song.”

“It’s always reminded me of you,” my guy says.

“Really?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he hums, hiding his face in the crook of my neck.

A contented grin overtakes my face as one of my favorite songs begins to play, and the next thing I know, I fucking melt. Right there on the dance floor, I’m a puddle of mush because my big, tough, arrogant boy starts to quietly sing into my ear for no one else but me to hear.

He softly serenades as my head falls back from the lovely sound.

And his singing voice is good too? What the hell? How am I still standing right now? He must be holding me up because I am done for. My legs are Jell-o.

Eli’s sweet angelic voice continues to pour into my ears as I tighten my hold around his neck and shoulders, needing to hide my face. I seriously might cry right now because I am so stupidly in love with this man.

Eli’s hands grip my lower back, the satin material bunching in his grasp as he sways us around the dance floor while he continues to sing the chorus.

His hands slide up my spine at some point during the next verse, skimming my exposed back. He whispers in tune before placing his lips on my collarbone, then continues with his song.

I’m completely and utterly lost in this moment with Eli, and I honestly didn’t know it was possible to love another human as much as I love him.

“Can I be him?” his finally sings.

Yes. Yes, you can.

I’m really regretting that one dance rule because I want to hear Eli’s sweet angelic voice pour into my ears over and over again all night long.

“Jesus, Eli.” My lips brush against the skin of his neck. “How are you real?”

He lifts his head, smiling against my temple. When the next song begins to play, I completely throw out my one-dance rule.

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