“Shit, you scared me,” Emmett said between deep breaths.
“Sorry.”
Emmett’s eyes narrowed. “No, you’re not.”
A hearty chuckle escaped him, and he pushed away from the wall, taking long strides toward Emmett, who looked up at him with something akin to wonder in those devastatingly blue eyes.
He took the paint brush out of Emmett’s hand and dropped it on the protective paper covering the floor, then grabbed him by the hand and whirled him around, Emmett’s burst of laughter settling something inside his chest.
“What are you doing?” Emmett asked, laughter in his voice.
He brought Emmett up against his chest, grabbing him by the hip and making him sway with him. “Dancing.”
“Uh-huh?”
Emmett’s eyes were shining with the kind of joy he’d always tried to grab for himself. It always seemed just out of reach, always slipping right through his fingers when he dared reach for it.
“What’s life worth if you don’t dance to good music?”
An almost wistful look crossed Emmett’s eyes, and he whispered, “Almost nothing,” before resting his forehead in the crook of Wilder’s neck. He held on tighter, eyes closing as they swayed, fingers threading through Emmett’s soft hair. His heart was racing, some feeling settling in his chest that he wasn’t anywhere near ready to give a name to, and he knew he needed to stop touching Emmett or he would do something stupid.
He gently pushed Emmett back to whirl him around again, elated when it brought out that laugh he was starting to crave from him. He brought Emmett back against his chest, not expecting his gasp.
“Oh, shit. I’m getting paint on you,” Emmett exclaimed, the concern in his voice warming Wilder from the inside.
“I don’t care,” he said, fingers tightening on Emmett’s hip when he tried to pull away. Emmett froze for a moment, something unreadable flashing through those gorgeous eyes, before he relaxed back against Wilder.
He wasn’t sure how, but he’d find a way to move on if this was all that could ever be between them. If he never got to taste those lips or feel those elegant fingers sliding through his hair. If he never got to see Emmett let go…
Move on? No. He didn’t think he could do that. Survive, though? Yeah, he could survive.
He moved them in a small circle, loving every second he had Emmett pressed against him, but once the music changed, he stilled and brought Emmett’s hands up between them to ask, “How do you saydance?”
Emmett smiled brightly and signed it for him, holding one hand flat, palm up, pointer and middle finger of his other hand moving side to side above it.
He frowned as he copied the sign once and then asked,“You. Dance. Me?”
Emmett bursting into laughter was only mildly offensive. His signing was notthatbad.
“What?”
“Half of signing is your expression.”
“Not sultry enough?”
Emmett stuttered, his cheeks reddening as he shook his head. He bit into his bottom lip and sent Wilder’s thoughts to a dangerous place.
Emmett put his hands on Wilder’s chest, and before he could enjoy it, he was shoved back.
“Go away,” Emmett said, trying his hardest to give Wilder a stern look. “I need to work.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, am I distracting you?”
Emmett raised his brows and signed something, his hands moving too fast for him to catch any of the words.
“You know I’m gonna figure out what you just said one day, right?”
Emmett shrugged, then signed,“Go!”
