Page 63 of Love Resurrected
Brad holds his arms out to me, though nothing about the gesture is inviting. I step into them, feeling the immediate tension that always seems to be the only connection between us.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Brad says, his mercurial nature again turning sour when in my presence.
“Why don’t we just go sit down?” I ask.
“Loosen up. We’ve got this. It’s just a dance.”
Did I say mercurial? What I really meant was whiplash-inducing.
Andme,loosen up?
I’ll show him loose.
He pulls me close and we begin the dance. I start on the wrong foot, and step on his toe. Hard. Again.
“Sorry, I kinda suck at this,” I whisper to Brad.
“Just try to spare the rest of my toes.”
I’m tempted to step on his other foot, just because, but I look in his eyes and try to hold his gaze while counting my steps at the same time.
“You’re too in your head. Don’t think about it so much.”
“Says the guy who overthinks everything.”
Then, somehow, I do, and he’s moving us across the floor with ease. My body is molded to his and our feet are moving in succession. His arms are strong around me, our gazes locked. We attempt nothing fancy, maybe a few twirls and an unexpected dip. His face is so close to mine, I could reach out and touch him with my tongue.
His hips rock into mine as we transition again.
My breath catches.
“How’d you learn to dance like this?” I pant.
“Another life,” he replies.
Then he’s twirling me again before pulling me back, and his thigh moves between my legs, taking the dance in a slightly different direction. His eyes never once leave mine, like I’m the most important thing in the room.
Is it me or just the dance?
I don’t want to know.
I can’t bear to look away.
He’s like sex on a fucking stick, just waiting to be nibbled on. My body is flush with his, and his length hardening against my hip as we move. My panties flood. Sweat pools between my breasts. What is it with this guy—this dance—that turns me on so much?
Don’t think about it.
Too late.
I lean in and lick his neck, tasting the salt of sweat mixed with the tang of cologne, and feel the scrape of whiskers not yet shaved today.
A groan emanates from deep in his chest and his hold on me tightens. His hand slides down the small of my back to the swell of my ass, our eyes still locked on one another. I lose myself in his gaze, those eyes so dark and stormy.
“Don’t do that again,” he growls as he pushes me away.
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Brad
