Page 66 of The Best Worst Mistake
“Forget about everything else and dance, Jules.”
“Forget?” I repeat.
“Focus on the music.” His face curls into a grin. “It’s gorgeous.”
He’s not wrong. The musician’s fingers fly up the neck of his guitar as his other hand expertly plucks the strings. The Spanish melody is sexy and slow.
Silas’ grip on my spine grows more firm. His body tenses against mine, and my heart begins to beat even louder.
I glance at the other dancers, positive that we’ll stick out like a sore thumb. These people all look as if they might have grown up in a flamenco studio. My body feels stiff, but my feet slowly begin to follow his steps.
“Out here? In the open like this?” I bite my lip as we begin to move.
He leans down and rests his cheek against mine, his lips gently brushing across my ear when he speaks.
“Right here.”
I swallow. The heat of his breath near my skin sends a shiver down my entire body starting where his lips brushed the space beneath my earlobe. It’s gentle, like a feather. Barely whispering past my skin, so much so that I’m not sure whether it was meant to be or just a miscalculation of the space left between his lips and me.
I close my eyes and tilt my chin up toward the black sky filled with stars, giving him more access to my jaw, faintly wishing his lips would find that spot again. Not thinking about whether it’s right or wrong. Just wanting so desperately to feel that simple jolt of electricity again. The one that reminds me I’m here. Living and breathing on a sidewalk, now in Spain.
He bends to speak again, and this time I know it wasn’t a mistake. “Forget everything else, Jules. Just move your body with me.”
There’s no point in fighting a man like Silas when he wants something, so I do exactly as he says.
I forget everything that brought us here to this exact moment.
I let the people, and the sidewalk, and the waves crashing below all fade into a hazy background of noise, and instead of focusing on how we look, or who might be watching me dance with the one man I started this trip out loathing, it all turns to gray.
And we dance.
Chapter 30
At first, we dance like all the other couples around us. He plants his left hand just above my hip, and we glide in unison, swaying back and forth a few times while I grin into his shoulder, barely shuffling left to right on the balls of our feet. Then, he pushes me out gently by the hip and I spin around once under his arm while a few more unabashed couples walk onto the makeshift dance floor, giving us less room to move so freely, caught up in the small but growing collection of hopeless romantics dancing under this old street light in Spain.
He gently pulls me back into him following the spin, and I wrap both of my arms up around his neck. The closeness between us shields my face again from his.
Then he says what we both must be thinking.
“This is one of those moments that was never supposed to happen.” His lips brush that sensitive spot just below my ear.
“But is it wrong to enjoy?” I ask, before I can think twice, flushing right after the words come out.
“No,” he whispers back. “Of course not.”
I lean into him when the music dips into a slower melody. The dancers around us sway back and forth against each other, just like us.
“We don’t stick out like a sore thumb,” I tell him quietly, smiling.
“Is that what you thought would happen?” He laughs quietly into my ear, and a layer of goosebumps spring out down both of my arms. “You know, I’m not completely awful at dancing.”
“No, I remember you having moves back in college, actually.”
“How else was I supposed to get any ladies with a mug like this?” he asks, sarcastically, pulling back.
He knows he’s impossibly handsome.
I scoff, and push back gently, but he draws me in closer.
