Page 70 of Solemn Vow

“I’m going to embarrass us,” I mutter.

He squeezes my hand and lowers his mouth to my ear.

“I’ve already told you, that’s not possible. Now, listen to my instructions. I’m going to step forward with my right foot, youstep back with your left foot. Then sweep to the right, put your feet together then step forward with your right foot.”

I imagine the steps in my mind.

“A box step? Oh, I can do that.” I nod. “We learned it in gym class in middle school. I can also do-si-do if we need to.” I smile up at him. Although I’ve never done this with a partner, I remember the basic step.

He frowns. “What is the dose doe?”

I laugh. “It’s a square dance. Don’t worry about it, you’ll never have to do it.”

He firms his grip on my hand. “Are you ready?”

After a couple twirls past us, I nod, and he sweeps us up onto the dance floor. Immediately, I step on his foot.

“Shit. Sorry.” I try to look down at our feet to catch the steps, but he pulls me closer, until we are chest to chest.

“Just follow me,moy sladkiy voin. We’ll be fine.” He takes a step forward, and I step back with him. His eyes meet mine, and it’s like our breath becomes one. I lose the count somewhere, but I’m floating in his stare.

We’re dancing as though I’ve done this a million times before. Around the floor we go, without crashing into anyone else. Not that I’m concerned with anyone else at the moment.

His grip is firm, and when I falter in a step, he uses the hand on my back to guide me back into place.

Everything about the sort of man he is with me can be summed up in this dance.

“You’re doing good,” he says. A swell of pride fills my chest at his words that are given freely and without attachment. There’s no agenda to his compliment, simply truth as he sees it.

I bring my eyes to his, again being swept away by his fierce stare. Even when he’s dancing, he looks ready to tear apart anyone that gets in his way.

“When did you learn to dance?” I ask, breaking our gaze. It’s too intense, being this close to him.

He looks away. “A girlfriend a long time ago.”

My insides freeze.

“I thought you didn’t date? You said boyfriend-girlfriend was a game.” I stumble again over his foot but catch the count and he turns us back into the beat of the music.

“I was young.” He brings his eyes back to me and grins when he sees my expression.

“What’s funny?” I demand.

“You’re jealous.”

“I am not.” I would pull away from him if he didn’t have such a hard grip on my hand.

He chuckles. “You are. And I am enjoying it.”

We continue the dance in silence. He seems happy to bathe himself in the idea that I’m jealous of his past, while I try to convince myself he’s wrong.

Except he’s not.

When I imagine him dancing like this with someone else, my stomach twists into a knot. I hate it.

“Marlena.” He stops dancing and I crash right into him.

Dammit. I take a small step back from him and drop my hands to my sides. He doesn’t let me get away though; he links his hand with mine.

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