Page 29 of The Russian Pakhan's Forced Bride
Dancing…something about that suddenly sounds incredibly appealing. I haven’t danced in forever. That explanation seems to disarm him, and despite his lingering gaze, Roman waves us on.
Looking pleased with herself, Elena guides me into the general crowd, off to the side so as not to get lost in the sea of people. Immediately, she pulls me in to dance, and we both let ourselves get lost in it.
Despite myself, I feel lighter than usual…less stressed. Less oppressed by the heaviness of my current situation.
I feel as if my inhibitions dissolve, and before I know it, I’m moving like I haven’t in far too long.
It’s easier than I expected to drift with the music, the lights, and the other bodies around us, and with the booze in my system, all I can think about is holding that rhythm.
I have no idea how much time has gone by, but eventually, I feel someone come up behind me as their body heat seeps into my back.
Glancing over my shoulder, I find Roman standing over me with a brow raised. “What are you doing?”
As I lose track of Elena, I try not to be fazed by his presence, but something about meeting his gaze then feels different. It’s almost…exciting, in a way.
“Dancing.”
There’s a pause, then his voice sounds closer to my ear. “This doesn’t seem like your typical scene.”
Not caring to be too careful with my words, I continue moving with the music, slurring my words slightly. “Maybe you don’t know much about me then.”
When I glance over my shoulder again, I catch how both of his brows go up, but he doesn’t say anything.
Instead, I feel him move even closer, then his hands slowly slide to my waist.
To my surprise, he joins me.
There’s nothing choreographed or practiced about it. It’s certainly not what I’d normally do, as he guessed, but it’s magnetizing.
His hands brush along my ribs, sending small bolts of lightning through my body and making it all feel so much more electrifying with the whiskey clouding my head.
As we fall into that less-than-innocent rhythm, able to feel him pressed up against me, I don’t stop him. It doesn’t even cross my mind to.
While I’m aware of how dangerous the moment is, I can’t pull away. Not when I feel so weightless. Not when his cologne surrounds me and his warmth is far too tantalizing to abandon.
It’s probably stupid on my part, but I can’t help it. For the first time in days, I feelgood. Too good to ignore.
So I keep dancing, and Roman follows my lead.
Chapter 11 - Roman
This isn’t the same woman who refused to leave her room earlier…it’s certainly not the one who had been sitting in her own little world with my family.
No…this Victoria sways her hips like it’s her job.
It’s like she has completely forgotten where we are or all the reasons she despises me. Or, maybe she just doesn’t care. Maybe she’s too tipsy to care.
In tandem with the sultry music around us, her body is fluid…teasingly soft-looking, especially with those perfect hips moving like they are. This rhythm of hers is new, yet it somehow seems so practiced. So carefree.
I can’t complain…and I certainly can’t look away.
Especially not when she looks back at me, letting me see those gorgeous eyes and how the light occasionally brings out the honey warmth within them.
This wasn’t how I imagined things going, but I’m in no position to argue or push her off me. Not while she backs into me, occasionally brushing against me and causing my body to stir. Like it’s awakening just for her, I can’t hold it back. I can’t fight how much tighter my slacks feel.
I had every reason to anticipate nothing but icy silence from her, or some kind of venomous statement to try and shake my resolve. But not this.
Not the constant movements that draw me in, or the knowing gleam in her eyes while she does it.
