Page 83 of Unstable

I tilt my head, giving him full access to lave his tongue all over my neck, but he backs away.

I must make a sound of protest because he chuckles slightly. “Almost, baby girl, got one more surprise first. And feel free to laugh again, I dare ya.”

He pulls out his phone, pressing at the screen while I watch in throbbing, aching wonder.

“Made a playlist,” he answers my unspoken question.

To laugh or not to laugh? It’s a toss-up.

“You made a playlist?” I slowly clarify.

“Yep, just like a teenage girl would do. Wanna laugh?” He quirks a brow.

“Sorta, yeah.”

“Go right ahead, I’ll keep that ass up in the air and pink all God damn night if ya want. It’d be my pleasure.” He winks and hits play, then sets his phone on the nightstand.

The first song starts, “Young Love” by The Judds. He had to dig way back in the archives for this one, and I’m so glad he did—it’s perfect.

“Come ‘ere.” He holds out his hands and I go to him, but not for what I expected. He wraps one arm low around my waist, pulling me flush to his body, and takes my other hand and holds it between our chests.

And begins to dance with me.

I lay my head against his chest and sigh. “I thought you didn’t know how to dance?”

He bends his head so his lips touch my hair as he answers. “Never said I didn’t know how, my mom taught me. Just said I didn’t.”

“Why not? You’re very good at it.”

“Just keep in mind, while I’m making ya playlists and telling sappy stories, that later, I’m gonna give you my dick and remind you I’m a man. Multiple times. Okay?”

“Okay.” I shiver.

“Valentine’s Day dance, you were in ninth grade and I was a junior. I overheard what’s his vagina telling his friend he was going out of town, so I knew you’d be at the dance without him. Went home that day and asked my mom to teach me how to dance.”

Shit, I know where this is leading and my chest starts to twinge. I bury my face deeper in his shirt to hide the tears starting to swim in my eyes.

“You looked so beautiful that night, Henny. You had your hair up, only a few curls hanging around your face and your dress matched your soft, pink mouth perfectly. You remember?”

I only nod, wishing more than anything I could re-write the ending that’s coming.

Oh my God, he’d timed it perfectly—heartbreakingly so. “Making Memories of Us” by Keith Urban starts to play now…just like it had that night.

“I should’ve known better,” he lets out a long, heavy breath. “Hadley was there, you had a boyfriend, it was stupid of me. But I had to try. So I asked you to dance, to this song. When you said no, I decided right then and there, I wasn’t meant to dance. So I never did. Until now.”

I lift my head, tears falling, and reach up to cup his cheek. “Keaton, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I just, didn’t want to hurt her either. Please forgive me, I’m sorry,” I sob.

“Hey now,” he kisses away my tears, “I wasn’t trying to give you some guilt trip. And damn baby, it guts me when you cry, so please don’t. I just wanted you to know why I made a girly playlist. I wanted to finally have my dance, Hen. Only…ever…with you.”

“I promise, I will never turn you down again, ever. Anytime you ask me to dance, whether it be in the middle of the night or in the middle of the street, my answer will always be yes.”

“My girl gives, she gives so damn good,” he grunts and lifts me off my feet, kissing me senseless.

He carries me to the bed and lays me softly on my back then stands fully, looking down at me, his mouth curved with suggestive tenderness, eyes smoldering with insatiable desire. Two sides of one man—the lover and the hunter.

“Undo your pants, baby. Show me you’re ready, you want this,” his order gravelly.

With the dexterity of a woman who’s sure, I have my button and zipper both undone in seconds, without even looking. Because I cannot tear my eyes away from his face. I want to memorize everything about the way he’s watching me.

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