Page 18 of Knot what I want for Christmas
I thread my arm back around her waist and pull her along with me. Automatically, her shoulders relax.
Okay, the steps are all wrong, and once or twice she does actually stand on my toe – but she’s moving in the right direction, not crashing into anyone else. Which is good, because I’m not sure my Alpha instincts could handle this little Omega crashing up close and personal with any other man in this bar.
And soon her shoulders are doing more than relaxing. She’s actually leaning into me a little, and a smile’s hovering on her lips.
“Enjoying yourself?” I lean closer.
“No,” she says, although she’s smiling when she says it. “I think this is one of the worst experiences of my life. Worse than the time Annie attempted to take me ice-skating and I took out a family of skaters. Worse than the time Mrs. Hamburg’s rottweiler humped my leg so aggressively I had to sedate him. Worse than when my luggage got searched at the airport and when they opened my bag half my underwear tumbled out everywhere.”
I laugh. “You seem to have a habit of landing yourself in trouble.”
“You have no idea and if you let go, I’m guaranteed to end up on my ass.”
“I won’t let go,” I growl. “You’re safe with me.”
It’s hot in the bar, especially hot on the tightly packed dance floor, and soon there’s a fine sheen of sweat on her neck and shoulders. My own shirt’s sticking to my back. It’s sending my imagination wild – giving me ideas about sliding my tongue upher neck, tasting that salty flavor that’s bound to be lingering there, getting a good lungful of her sweet honey scent.
She’s not wrong about having two left feet. The girl’s getting most of the steps wrong, and the ones she does get right trail a second or two behind everyone else. Not like the girls in the front row – the ones who come every Friday night in their skimpy jean shorts and even skimpier tops, hips swaying, butts jiggling, every step damn faultless. They’re pretty tempting, and if I’m honest, I’ve been tempted with more than one or two of them.
However – I have to confess – the little Omega getting it all wrong beside me is a hell of a lot more tempting. A hell of a lot. And with my arm wrapped firmly around her waist, I have her moving in the right direction.
That is until we’re forced to turn to the right sharply. She should have two feet on the ground like everyone else, making this move easy. Unfortunately, she’s balancing on the toes of her left foot, and the sudden change in direction has her wobbling, toppling, and slipping from my grasp.
She shrieks, arms flapping frantically in the air like an out-of-control windmill. Everyone’s gaze snaps our way. Her eyes widen. She looks to me in desperation, and, as if in slow motion, I see her tumbling backwards to the floor.
I dive forward, skidding onto my knees, and catch that girl like she’s a football and I’m intercepting a pass. She lands with an oomph in my arms and stares up at me in disbelief as everyone around us breaks into applause.
“Got you,” I say with a big grin.
“Got me?!” she squeals. “I nearly landed on my ass like I predicted!”
“You didn’t though, did you?” I say, looking down to where her ass is now resting in my lap.
“True,” she says, arms around my neck. “Thank you,”
I tip her back up onto her feet and scramble up myself. Everyone’s still looking at us, and I frown at them. Some of those front-row girls are giggling.
“Nothing to look at here, folks. Get back to dancing.”
I don’t need to say it twice – they’re all snapping back round.
“I don’t know what happened,” she says.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say, shaking my head. “Still having fun?”
She nods with a grin, and off she sets again, stomping her feet, clapping her hands, completely out of time with everyone else. I scurry back to her side, swearing I’ll take better care of her this time.
When the song ends, I’m a hell of a lot disappointed about it.
“Wanna stay for another?” I ask her.
“I’m exhausted,” she says.
I guess my face must show my disappointment.
“But that was fun. Actually fun,” she tells me.
“Actually fun as opposed to …”
