“No.”
“So why the theatrics?”
It’s my turn to frown. “I’m not being dramatic! I just didn’t want to dance with you because my feet are hurting from my shoes and you wouldn’t listen to me, and you all but forced me into it!”
He looks confused now. To be honest I’m a little confused as to where I’m going with this myself.
It’s like I’m desperately throwing mud at him waiting for some to stick.
I want him to fight with me. But he just won’t.
“Okay, I’m sorry. We won’t dance.” He lifts his hands in surrender, looking all wounded and moves to walk back up the stairs past me.
Oh God! Now I feel all bad for projecting my own feelings onto him, and blaming him for just being himself.
I’m such a bitch.
I catch hold of his hand as he’s passing, bringing him to a stop beside me. “I’m sorry,” I say.
He stares at me, saying nothing and I feel compelled to keep talking, to explain my behaviour.
“I’m just tired and ratty, and I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean them. I’m just being a bitch. Forgive me?”
His eyes soften. “You’re forgiven. Like I could ever stay mad at you.” He cups my chin with his other hand and kisses my cheek. “Look if you’re tired we can go back to the hotel and go to bed?” he says into my ear, his hot breathe tickling the skin on my neck, and other far off, unreachable places.
Go to bed? Okay, as inviting at that is it’s probably not the best idea, because my belly is pooling warm with the way you feel on my skin right now.
“No, we’ll dance. I mean my feet are already covered in nightclub crap … puke,” I smile. “Come on.”
He smiles back at me, and it’s beautiful. He looks so very beautiful. And all kinds of wrong.
My heart climbs out of my chest and sneaks into his, nestling in for the night.
Beyoncé’s, ‘Sweet Dreams’ start to pump out of the speakers and in this moment, I know I’m in trouble, but even still, it doesn’t stop me from leading him onto the dance floor.
All eyes are on Jake and me. This is how it always is around him. And to be honest in this moment, I like it.
I like that every women in this club is wishing she were me right now.
Jake grabs my hips and pulls me close to him. Staring down into my eyes, he starts to move me in time with him, and the people around us just melt away.
All I can do is stare up at him, trapped in his thrall, completely helpless as he moves my body with his.
Jake can dance. And I mean really dance. Sexy, sensual every move he makes with me, for me, is like he’s caressing me, heightening my senses to him.
If he can move like this on the dance floor, then I can only imagine how good he is in bed.
An image of me in bed with Jake flickers through my mind. So vivid that I feel lost in it. Lost in him. Too him. Consumed and totally intoxicated.
I feel reckless. Heedless. Like I could do anything … want to do anything, with him, right here and now.
“Where did you learn to dance like this?” I ask, forcing my voice to work, as I try to focus my mind on anything but the feel of his body pressed up against mine, as Beyoncé’s vocals continue to aid my mental and physical assault over my need for Jake.
“The Bedroom.”
Bedroom. Bed. Jake in my bed. Naked.
Focus Tru, focus.
“Is that a dance school?”
I really couldn’t imagine Jake going to dance class; it doesn’t really fit with him.
“No, Tru.” He stares down at me, blue eyes piercing. “In. The. Bedroom.”
“Oh.”
Oh crap.
I gulp down.
“There’s no real difference between having sex and dancing.” He runs his hand up my arm, slowly, deliberately, until it’s cupping my shoulder. He starts to rub his thumb over my skin. It hums wherever he touches.
“N-no?” I stammer.
I mean what else can I say? I’m kind of having a pretty hard time concentrating right now.
“No.” He presses his delicious lips together and slowly shakes his head. He hasn’t taken his eyes off mine yet. And I suddenly feel naked, so very naked.
“It’s just unfortunate you have to keep your clothes on for one of them.”
“Um … well, naked dancing here might attract some stares, Jake,” I manage out.
I’m trying to remain calm, but my heart has exited on me, my legs are trembling and every sense in me has headed somewhere South.
Jake leans in close, cupping the back of my neck with his hand, his lips brush over my ear as he whispers, “And that’s why I prefer to dance in the bedroom.”
Holy shit.
He leans back and stares down at me, and then I suddenly see it there in his eyes, unconcealed.
The lust. The want. He wants me. He’s trying to seduce me.
I’m so completely fucked.