Page 74 of The Wrong Promise

He can’t dance.

I take his hands and guide them to my hips, then turn, moving my ass over his crotch.

He stops suddenly, and I turn over my shoulder to see what’s wrong. He’s staring at my feet. “Are you okay?” he asks, his brows pinched in concern.

What?“Yes, I?—”

He bends and takes my foot, carefully inspecting it.

“What are you doing?” If we are questioning feet issues, then we should be looking at his.

“You’re okay, baby.”

I know I am.

Suddenly, I’m whisked into his arms.What the…“Excuse me. My partner has twisted her ankle,” he says as he carries me past couples dancing and twirling.

“Jobe, what is happening?” I say quickly, utterly confused.

“Follow my lead.” When we reach our table, he tentatively lowers me to the floor, keeping an arm around my waist. “Keep your foot off the floor, baby.”

Everyone at the table is staring at me.

What is he doing?

“Unfortunately, we need to leave. Zara twisted her ankle on the dance floor.”

Say what?I grimace and lift my foot.

“Sorry if I wore you out,” Oscar says, his subtle smile in place and clearly onto us.

“I’ll be okay,” I tell him. “Two left feet.” I shrug.

“Oh, I hope you’re okay,” Natalie says and stands with Rachel beside her. Then I’m surrounded by everyone at the table wanting to check out my sprained ankle.

I will kill him.

“I’ll take her home and elevate her foot with ice,” Jobe announces. “I’m sorry to leave a beautiful ball. You’ll receive my donation on Monday,” he tells Sir James as he slides his suit jacket down his arms and helps me slip into it.

I narrow my eyes at him. I was having fun.

“I hope to see you all again soon,” I say as Jobe whisks me into the air again and carries me toward the large wooden doors. “Was this really necessary?” I ask when we are a good distance away.

“If you knew the thoughts I’m having, then yes.” His beautiful dark eyes hold mine.

“You can’t dance,” I whisper gleefully.

He gives me a sideways glance. “No. I’d rather express myself in other ways. You were grinding your ass on my cock, and I didn’t want everyone to see us compromised.”

“We were not compromised,” I say, amused.

“If I remained there any longer, I’d have to find a side room so you could grind your pussy on my face.”

I giggle. “Jobe Hendricks cannot dance. Finally, I found your weakness.”

“Zara,” he warns. “It is not a weakness. My priorities lie elsewhere, and I’m too busy to hang out in clubs anddance.” He says it like it’s a dirty word.

“No,” I say, seeing through him. “But I imagine you in those secret VIP clubs receiving lap dances where the girl dances for you.”

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