"When have I ever—" I start, but Ivy walks in and my entire vocabulary evaporates.
She's wearing a tiny white dress that's testing every shred of my self-control. It clings in all the right places, draping soft over her hips, hugging her chest as if it was tailored to ruin me. There's a slit that flashes enough thigh to keep my brain short-circuiting, and she's got these bedroom eyes going; lips painted the exact shade of bad decisions I excel at making.
Sweet mother of porn.
"You were saying?" Matt mutters, and I realize I'm eye-fucking her.
"Shut up."
"I bet you're already thinking about the horizontal tango—"
"Drop it."
But he's not wrong, and that's the fucking problem. Of course I want to rail Ivy six ways from Sunday. I've got a pulse, and she's . . . well, she's the kind of hot that makes you forget how to spell your own name. Would I fuck her? Obviously. But there's more than that carnal need when it comes to her.
That's what makes this so dangerous. Because Ivy isn't another girl I want to bend over the nearest surface. She's more. And that thought terrifies me more than any boner-induced awkwardnessever could.
"Alright, my sweet things!" Kristal claps her hands, her fake eyelashes batting. "First, we warm up. Emotionallyandphysically. Love starts in the heart, but it lives in the hips!"
Matt wraps his arms around Sarah's waist, nuzzling her neck like they're alone in their bedroom, not in a makeshift dance studio. It's disgusting. And maybe a tiny bit sweet.
I'm already mapping the fastest escape route when Kristal shimmies between us. "Partner up!"
Ivy moves toward me with a little half-smile. "Don't drop me?"
"No promises." I put my hands on her waist. "But if I accidentally dip you into a wall, it's not personal."
"Such a gentleman." She drags her fingers up my arms, and my skin's on fire everywhere she touches. In any other situation, having a hot girl run her hands over my biceps would be a green light to flirt back. But this is Ivy, and my usual moves feel wrong. Or too right. Fuck if I know anymore.
"Okay, no, no, NO!" Kristal rushes over to us. "We're not at your first awkward formal. CLOSER!" Before I can process what's happening, she's behind me, her bedazzled hands shoving my hips forward until Ivy and I are pressed together like we're trying to make a baby right here on the dance floor.
"There!" Kristal chirps. "Now MOVE those hips!"
Matt's wheezing with laughter until Sarah smacks him upside the head. "Ow! What? I'm appreciating the show."
"You're supposed to look into her eyes," Kristal instructs, still way too close. "Dancing is like making love—it's all about the connection!"
Jesus Christ.
I try focusing on Ivy's forehead, but she tilts her head and catches my gaze. Her pupils are blown wide, lips parted, and I'm back in that bed this morning. I step forward, right onto her foot.
"Ow!"
"Shit, sorry." I steady her, but now my hands are spanning her waist and she's practically straddling my thigh. She shifts, deliberately pressing closer, anddammit—this is not helping the semi I've been sporting since she walked in.
Think about football stats, think about Mom's fruit cake, think about anything but how she's grinding against me.
Her fingers trail up my arms to my shoulders, nails grazing skin through my shirt. The little vixen knows what she's doing.
"Less apologizing, more feeling!" Kristal demands. "The music should flow through you like desire!"
I attempt a spin move to get some space, but Ivy's dress tangles around my legs. She stumbles, clutching my shoulders, and in the next moment her whole body's molded against mine. Her breath hitches when my hands slide lower, and the sound shoots straight to my dick.
"Smooth," Matt calls out. "Really channeling that two left leg energy."
"At least I'm not counting under my breath like a kindergartener," I shoot back, catching him mouthing one-two-three while Sarah tries not to laugh.
"Closer!" Kristal demands. "This isn't a business meeting. Show me passion!"
