Page 188 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
My eyes snap to her, and I see her smile falter, just a fraction, a heartbeat.
A heartbeat that feels like an eternity.
It’s our song—again.
My throat tightens.
Her eyes land on me, and I see a shadow of something familiar. Something that stings. And then—just like that—it’s gone.
She’s on stage now, and he owns her.
“As the midnight moon was drifting through...”
The dancer starts slow, gyrating his hips to the beat of the music. His chaps hug his tight, bare ass, leaving little to the imagination.
His hand reaches out to caress her cheek. She looks up at him, her eyes wide. He leans down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispers something that makes her blush.
It hits me like a punch to the gut. This is my song, and that’s my woman, but I can’t claim either.
“The lazy sway of the trees...”
The dancer shifts closer, provocative, his movements more intense.
My heart fucking pounds.
His hips thrust towards her, his cock barely contained by the thong.
Jade bites her lip, her eyes never leaving his, and jealousy courses through me.
He spins her around on the stool, her back now facing him. His hands run up her back before they settle on her shoulders. His fingers press into her skin.
My heart stops.
Then that fucker runs his hands down the sides of her body, stopping at her hips, and spinning her again.
I swallow hard, my insides coiling.
He pulls her towards him, grinding against her.
I can barely watch as he wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her into him with a possessive force.
Her chest presses against his, and I hate it. I hate how close they are, but more, I hate that it’s not me. He pulls her into a slow grind, their bodies moving together.
She’s giggling and blushing.
She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t even glance over her shoulder.
And that’s what kills me.
Her eyes are on him: his hands, his chest, his rhythm. She’s caught up in all of it.
And damn it, I’m jealous.
He spins her again, fast this time, and she stumbles. But he’s quick, catching her by the hips, lifting her into the air just enough for her to look weightless. She doesn’t hesitate. She wraps her legs around his waist, and the sight of it drives a spike of heat into my veins.
Her face is flushed, her eyes half-lidded, and for just a second, she meets my gaze.
I don’t know if she even knows it, but it’s there. That look. The one that says “I want you” without a single word.
