Page 53 of Training the Heart

“You thinkthatguy was your soulmate?” His brow furrows, and his jaw tenses even further. “The guy that came up to you and touched you before he even said hello to you? He’s your soulmate?”

I giggle.

“I suppose not,” I say with a smile, as one large hand of Wade’s pulls me even closer, his hips press into me possessively and the other hand slides up my back, through my hair. His head comes down over my ear, and my breath hitches in my throat as my thighs clench together.

“A man like that is nowhere near good enough for you, Ivy,” Wade whispers, his voice gravelly and deep, but crystal clear inthe noisy bar, sending goosebumps down my neck. My breathing increases and my skin is suddenly hyper sensitive against my clothing. If he keeps whispering to me and holding me like this, I’m pretty sure he’s going to ruin my panties.

“You need a man who takes the time to knowyou, not just the way you look.” His lips hover painfully close to the bottom of my earlobe.

“You need a man who can handle your sassy little attitude, not be threatened by it,andgive it back to you tenfold,” he says, his breath warm on my neck.

I whimper into his chest as he slides his hands back down my sides, firm and sure, resting them at my tailbone in such a way that has me clenching my thighs together and wishing he’d slide them down even further. His thumb traces lazily again, sending shivers up my spine.

“And you’re the man who knows what I need?” I ask him in a shaky whisper. The loud bar is no match for the sound that vibrates through Wade’s chest. It sounds like a low growl.

“I know you well enough to know he wasn’t it,” Wade says, his lips ghosting my skin as he speaks. “At the very least, Ivy, you need a man whose hands don’t shake when he touches you.” His lips hover in their place, bringing every nerve ending under my skin to life.

I whimper and turn my lips up to his ear. “You got steady hands, Chief?”

“Rock fucking steady.”

I feel his hands circle my waist slow and sure, his thumbs running down the front of my abdomen as he holds me close. We both stand still on the dance floor, just breathing into each other’s skin. I’m frozen with the pull between us and how close his lips are hovering over mine. It’s at this exact moment that the stage lights brighten and blind us, and the opening strings to “Sweet Home Alabama” fill the air, breaking our spell as thecrowd explodes around us. I pull my face back to look at Wade, his emerald eyes dark and anchoring me where I stand.

Fuck, I’ve never seen anything like him.

He grins at me, melting me from my head to my toes.

I grin back, a challenge in my eyes.

“Seeing as you don’t want any other man out here on the floor with me, can you dance?”

His eyes shine back at me, accepting my challenge.

“Fucking right I can dance,sweetheart.” In one swift movement, he takes hold of my hand and lifts my arm up over head, spinning me around in a perfectly executed twirl.

Of course, he isn’t lying. Wade keeps me dancing for the next two hours, stopping only to champion me replacement shots before I even notice I’m thirsty, both of us sweaty and tipsy, as I sing along to every country song they rock the stage with. As he watches me move before him with a look I can’t place, Wade’s coveted dimples are on full display.

In this place, with no worries, no burdens, with me, the only thing I can think is … happy looks damn good on Wade Ashby.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Wade

“Fuck,” I grunt under my breath.

Ivy snorts beside me. “Runs multimillion-dollar ranch, can’t operate a key card?”

The green light signals the click of the door finally, and I look down at her. You’d think with her size and stature the drinks she had would hit her harder, but she seems as in control as I am, just feeling good enough not to care that my hand is still firmly planted around her waist, where it’s been all night.

“Get your bratty little ass inside,” I say as she laughs.

“Goddamn, I don’t remember the last time I had that much fun.” Ivy kicks her boots off and lifts her sweaty hair off the back of her neck as she putters to the window, tossing her purse on the bed and grabbing a water from the mini fridge. For someone so accident-prone, there are times Ivy moves with the grace of a dancer. Something about the way her toned legs make way for her ass that would fit so fucking well into my hands drives me wild. I blink when I notice her noticing me staring at her ass.Fuck.

Ivy’s fuckable ass–1.

Wade–0.

“See something you like, Chief?” she asks, her eyebrow raised, hand on her hip, reminding me that Ivy and alcohol makes me want to fuck the sass right out of her mouth, and goddamn it would be a beautiful sight.

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