Page 13 of Beautiful Rush
“Sure.” She took a deep breath and we stared at each other across her state-of-the art kitchen. It felt like we were at a junior high dance and had no idea how to navigate the space between us or what to do next. I set the water and my hat on the counter and ran my fingers through my hair. Her eyes followed my movement and she shifted from one foot to the other, crossing her arms over her chest as if suddenly aware that she was braless.
To alleviate the awkwardness, I did the first thing that came to mind. I gave her my most charming smile and held out my hand to her. “Care to dance with the devil?”
She burst out laughing and stared at my outstretched hand before placing hers in mine. She had piano player’s hands, the fingers long and graceful, but her palms were calloused, probably from her job. A contradiction, like Keira. With her, you rarely got what you expected. I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her closer but not so close that our bodies touched.
She placed her hand on my shoulder, the other one still clasped in mine. I led her around the kitchen floor in a slow dance to music I could only hear in my head.
“There’s no music.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to sing.” There was a challenge in my tone, and I knew she would rise to it.
“That’s what I get for dancing with the devil. I guess it’s time to pay the fiddler.” I laughed. She only hesitated a moment before she started singing “Free Fallin’,” her voice low and scratchy and off-key. It was sexier than if her voice was pitch-perfect and polished.
“You’re a good singer.”
“I’m shit,” she said with a laugh. “You’ll have to join me.”
I did. My vocals didn’t improve the song one bit. We made up the words we didn’t know or couldn’t remember, and we danced to “Free Fallin’” in her brightly-lit kitchen, moving more slowly than the tune called for. We started out with enough space between us to drive a Mack truck through it. As we danced, her hand moved from my shoulder to the back of my neck and she played with the ends of my hair, twisting it around her fingers. Almost imperceptibly, her body moved closer to mine until there was only a hair’s-breadth of space between us. I kept my hand on her lower back and resisted the urge to move it lower, to squeeze her ass and crush her body against mine so she could feel what her nearness did to me.
We stopped singing and our feet stopped moving, but we stayed in position as if we were playing a game of statues and we’d been caught mid-dance. I stared at the pretty pink pout of her lips and then I dipped my head and inhaled the heady scent of her hair and skin. Apricots and sweet almonds. She looked like a girl who would smell of musk and exotic spices. I was happy she didn’t. “You smell edible.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose. “You smell like Christmas morning.”
My hand moved lower, palming her ass and tugging her closer so her body was flush against mine. “You make me feel like a kid on Christmas Eve.”
“It’s the anticipation.”
“You feel it too?” I teased.
She took a step back and lowered her eyes to the bulge in my jeans. “It’s kind of hard to miss.”
I grinned. “Thank you.”
She rolled her eyes. “If this is a booty call, you banged on the wrong door.”
“If this was a booty call, you’d be naked and screaming my name by now.”
She arched her brows to hide the blush of her cheeks. “Cocky.”
“Confident. But don’t make it too easy. Make me work for it.”
“There’s nothing easy about me,” she said.
Why wasn’t I surprised?
“Do you like the thrill of the hunt,Konstantin?” She smiled smugly, proud of herself for figuring out that Kosta was the Russian nickname for Konstantin. Clever girl.
She sauntered into the living room and I followed, like a hunter stalking its prey.
“I like a challenge,Gracie.” That was the name on her fake ID. She smirked at the memory. Even if I caught Keira, I knew she would still be a challenge. “Can I trust you?”
I didn’t need to spell it out. She knew what I was asking.
“With your life, yes. I’m good at keeping secrets. Just don’t fall in love with me. That would be dangerous.”
“Appreciate the warning.” I imagined us crashing, not falling. I didn’t think either of us would get out unscathed.
I took a seat on the sofa next to her. The movieDrivewas playing on the TV. A bowl of purple grapes, a bag of Cheetos, and a plastic container of Ramen noodles sat on the coffee table. “Is this your idea of dinner?”
