Disorderly Conduct (The Academy #1)

I’m still a good twenty yards away when Ever stops dancing and turns, our gazes locking through the crowd. As though she sensed me. That awareness sends my blood running south, but I hold on to my inhibitions. I’m not here to take Ever home, much as I’m dying to. She drew the boundary line and I’m not crossing it. I’ve looked at her hurt expression too many times on my phone to put it there again.

Hey, cutie, I mouth, throwing in a wink. Her expression is a little dazed and I can see she’s tied one on. There are black streaks extending out from the sides of her eyes, making her even more cat-like than before. So drunk and adorable and hot, I don’t know why everyone in the fucking room isn’t staring. Maybe they are, but I can’t look away from her long enough to find out. She sways a little, and my hand shoots out to catch her elbow. Shit. If I thought I was feeling protective watching her from afar, it doesn’t compare to the increased weight of it now. I’m going to make sure she gets home all right. I’m like an ancient knight that’s been given a quest, and I either succeed or accept certain death.

She winks back at me, but that one eye stays closed way too long. “Hey, Charlie,” she calls over the noise. “I met your brother.”

“Yeah, I heard. My condolences.” Bearded Wonder edges closer, as if he’s going to reclaim Ever, and the look I give him is designed to cause an exploding pancreas. “You’re done here, bro. That was pathetic.”

Further proving his unworthiness of Ever, Bearded Wonder’s shoulders sag. He gives Ever’s legs one more longing look and gets swallowed up by the still-growing crowd. Taking a moment to judge the distance between us and the closest emergency exit, I take a step into Ever’s space and warm apple scent billows around me.

“I dig the shiner.” The concern on her face belies her words as she examines my blackened eye. “But try to remember to duck next time.”

“I’ll make a note of it, cutie,” I say dryly, loving the fact that she doesn’t press me for details. No pasts. No futures. Old habits die hard, I guess. I do my best to banish the bittersweet air floating between us by taking her hand. “Listen, I know I can dance better than that guy. You up for it?”

Her smile is like an adrenaline shot to the chest. “Hell yeah.”

If God himself was on the turntables, the next song couldn’t have been more perfect. It’s the same track we danced to at the catering event—“My Type” by Saint Motel—and we trade that look. The one people trade when divine musical providence takes place and you’re the only ones who understand. When I take Ever’s hand, spin her one direction, then back the other, she has no idea what hit her. I’d held back a little at the Art League function because she’d been exhausted, but I’m going balls to the wall tonight. Her sparkle has been subdued by Bearded Wonder’s lack of rhythm, but it blazes back to life now, her beautiful face glowing beneath the club lights. That shirt-dress she’s wearing twists at the tops of her thighs—goddamn—so I lean back and wolf whistle, letting her see my appreciation, sending her into a musical fit of laughter.

I don’t give her much time to relax, though, before I turn her, pulling her back up against my chest. Trailing a hand down her hip, I grind once into her sweet ass, cursing my determination not to hit on her, then clasp her wrist and turn her in a circle, bringing her back to face me. We’re close now, not touching, but a sheet of paper couldn’t fit between us, either. Her expression is pure pleasure and I’m not going to lie, it gives me a kind of satisfaction I can’t explain, seeing her have a good time. Knowing I made her happy instead of sad or confused for once.

“Charlie Burns, where did you learn how to dance?”

I settle a hand on her right hip, groaning deep in my throat at the rhythmic bump and sway. We’re moving in perfect tandem, we always do, and it’s a reminder of what I won’t allow myself to have anymore, even though it’s killing me. “I had a lot of babysitters growing up. My favorite was a police dispatcher named Malia.” Ever’s smile dips a little at the reminder I didn’t have a mother around, but frankly, after days of thinking I would never see this girl again, there isn’t much that can fuck up my mood. I saved her from a man who doesn’t own a razor, she’s letting me hold her, and I’m standing between her and any trouble that breaks out. It’s a million miles from the shit show I was stewing in before I crashed into bed tonight. “She had a thing for young John Travolta. I think I’ve seen Saturday Night Fever sixty-eight times. But she mostly played the old soul stuff. She taught me.”

Taking Ever’s wrists, I bring them up over her head, sliding my palms down her arms, her sides, landing on her hips and twisting them right, left. Hard. Her breath catches on a bubbly laugh, her eyelids falling to half-mast. “God, Charlie, that’s good.”

“She’d say, let the woman know she’s hot. Make her feel like the only person alive.” I can hear the dispatcher’s easy voice, echoing in my kitchen and tearing down the too-quiet, too-tense environment created by three driven males. “No need to remember those lessons when I’m dancing with you, Ever. It just is.” Way to keep it light and friendly, man. Blowing out a breath, I let my attention drop to her lower body. “And damn, you’re not so bad yourself, are you?”

“Yeah?” She gives me this adorable little boogie that no one would attempt sober and I’m smiling like a lunatic. “I’m just warming up.”

Two weeks ago, I would have tugged her close, taken two handfuls of her ass and warmed both of us up, but if I do that now, it’ll screw up this loose feeling we’re sharing. No pressure. No chance that one of us won’t feel right later on. We’re just dancing. Talking. Bad as I want to take Ever home and coax her into bed, I’ve been gut sick for days knowing she felt used. By me. I’ll never let her feel that way again, long as I’m living and breathing.

“Do you ever see Malia anymore?”

“Yeah. She still works for the department.” Needing some form of contact, I rest my mouth against Ever’s temple and move us with the beat. “She schedules prostate exams for my father and doesn’t tell him until the day before. Everyone loves her for it.”

Ever’s chest vibrates against mine. “She’s his work wife.”

“Maybe. Maybe it works because she’s part of the job, not a distraction from it.” I try to be subtle about inhaling the scent of Ever’s shampoo, regretting the fact that I never asked to shower at her place. “Where did you learn how to dance?”

“YouTube.” We laugh and she winds her arms around my neck, like she’s not really thinking about the action. It’s just natural. It is. It feels that way. Her body against mine is the ninth wonder of the world—we fit together like puzzle pieces no matter which angle we’re standing. “Jennifer Lopez music videos, to be specific. But I made the mistake of signing up for my middle school talent show before showing anyone my routine.” Her expression is very serious as she tilts her head back to look at me. “I performed ‘Jenny from the Block.’ Solo. In a sequin top and a bandana.”

“Christ, Ever.” I drop my forehead to rest on top of hers. “Tell me you didn’t.”