Page 78 of Things I Overshared
“You have to agree not to lie,” he whispers, and then he spins me so we’re back in our original position. I’m panting and hot and pink all over. For a second, his eyes fall down to the sweetheart neckline of my dress, where my chest is heaving like a cheesy scene from one of Sadie’s early novels. “Do you?” He pushes me out while grabbing both hands, then pulls me in and somehow throws my arms around his neck so he can hold me around the waist.
His eyes are close to mine and staring so hard, I can’t form thoughts. I’m not sure what’s happening on my face, but my body is having a full-blown nuclear meltdown underneath my dress. “Do you agree?” he asks. I manage to nod before he takes one of my hands while pushing me away and twirls me under our arms. Then we’re back in our first position. “So?” He grins at me, smug.
“What?” I can barely talk, wondering if anyone has ever orgasmed while ballroom dancing. Probably. He spins me out and in again so his mouth is back at my ear. He rubs his thumb along my arm.Definitely! Someone definitely has!
“Are you impressed?” He twirls me back to the slow dance position with my hands around his neck. I have got to regain some control! I look away from his crazy blue laser beams and manage to shrug. He chuckles and moves me around a couple more times, and before I realize it, I’m in a deep dip at the end of a chorus.
“How about now?” He leans over me, holding me in an almost horizontal position. His grip tightens, and I realize if he wanted to, he could let go and drop me like a sack of flour. I nod furiously, hoping he’ll straighten. I get another steamy, low chuckle out of him. It is now my body’s favorite sound.
“I think this is the most quiet you’ve been on this trip when you weren’t asleep, Miss Canton.” He smirks, but I feel my face fall.
“Really? Miss Canton again?”
He quickly spins me back to my favorite hold, with his breath on my neck.
“Samantha,” he whispers.
I hear a small sort of whimper come out of my mouth. He moves me again so my hands are around his neck, and he holds me tight. His hands are tight except for where I’m bruised, but he still has me so close, I’m pretty sure I can feelhimthrough his pants. I want him so badly, I suddenly blurt out words.
“I don’t like Thomas! I don’t want him!” He sighs in response, but it’s almost a growl. “I know I danced with him a couple times, but it didn’t mean anything, Emerson.”
“You can dance with whomever you like,” he replies smoothly, but his face is tense. He moves us back to our original, distant position. We sway like that for a while, and I realize the song has changed.
We’ve been dancing for two songs, at least, and I didn’t even notice. “Why were you like that last year? With Skye?”
He shrugs. “It was . . . awkward.”
“And it’s not awkward with me?” I say softly, feeling my chest doing the heave thing again along my neckline.
He pulls me in closer, tighter, and puts the sides of our foreheads together. “No.”
“Right, because we’refriends,” I say, not hiding my disdain for the label.
Before he can respond, the song ends, more obviously this time since the band transitions to an upbeat number. He separates from me and puts out his palm and flexes his fingers.
“What?”
“Your phone.” He has a playful spark in his eyes that I don’t know if I’ve ever seen. I sigh with a smile and roll my eyes as I head to the table to fish it out of my purse for him.
I move to place it in his hands and then pause. “No funny business—texting people, taking screenshots of my stuff, filling my camera roll with selfies.” I start laughing. “Just kidding, I can’t even imagine you taking a selfie. Still, none of the other stuff.” He just glares at me and moves his palm closer to the phone. I unlock it and hand it over.
He takes my phone slowly so our fingers brush, and even though we were just touching each other, a new set of goose bumps erupts up my arms. He sits and gets to work on my playlist. I move to join him until I hear someone call my name a few tables over. I sigh, clearly not done working for the evening.
Over an hour later, my feet are aching, my face is oily, and my capacity for awkward run-ins with Thomas Gage is down to zero. I all but hobble back to our table to where Sadie sits. She notices the quick circle my eyes make, tracking all the empty chairs.
“He left a little while ago. Didn’t say a thing. Just got up and gave a bow like I was the queen herself, and left.”
“Oh,” I offer, trying to sound nonchalant.
“He glared at you the whole way out, but you were chatting away, charming some ninety-year-old lady’s socks off.”
“Ann Wartzer, new customer in Switzerland. At least . . . I think she is, after tonight!”
Sadie smiles and gives me a proud nod, then lowers her voice. “You know, Nicole asked him to dance.” My smile dies a cold, hard death when I snap my head in my sister’s direction. “Mhmm, not long after you two were done putting on your steamy show—and hey, thanks for that, by the way, I took some notes for the next book.” She winks as she stands up. “Anyway, she said something about how he was clearly the best dancer here, and then he said he’d had all he could handle for one evening.”
“Huh.” I try not to smile.
“Yeah.Huh.” She hands me my purse. “Let’s go.” I nod and follow her out. Nicole waves us off, deep in an animated chat with the Gage brothers.I’m grateful she’s distracting Thomas while I sneak out. I don’t know how many ways one can say no to another dance, but I think I’ve used them all.
