I snort, and before long, we’re both laughing and stomping and doing a well-practiced line dance as the band plays.
I smile over at Dallas to see him grinning my way too. And I suddenly know that I can absolutely do this with him. He’s my best friend, and he’s always got my best interests at heart. Just like I hope I give back to him. We’ll pull through this.
And who knows? Maybe we’ll both find the perfect partner we’ve been waiting for.
Chapter
Eight
SWEATING LIKE A NUN IN A CUCUMBER PATCH
Dallas
Everything’s okay.We’reokay.
As long as Shelby’s not mad at me, I know everything’s fine in the world. The woman can’t fake a smile through three whole songs. She’s officially not mad at me anymore, I’m sure of it. She spins around and shimmies to the final chorus of some song I’m not even really listening to. I have to physically drag my gaze away from her backside, all luscious curves in those worn Levi’s. I know I need to put on a show for the town to really sell this engagement story. I know I should be gazing at her like a man who’s just put a ring on her finger, but goddamn, she’s driving me a little too crazy. I’m finding it a little too easy to stare at her with my jaw dropped to the floor.
We’ve just worked up a legitimate sweat when the band slows everything down into a slow dance. It’s perfect for the show we have to put on, but hell for the chaotic thoughts spinning around my skull. Shelby turns to walk off the dance floor, her gaze on the table where her friends—and my sisters—have various knowing grins on their faces. Without giving it too much thought, Ireach out and snatch Shelby’s hand, her oversized turquoise ring digging into my palm. The woman is obsessed with turquoise, just like her momma was.
“Dance with me, Sweetness.”
I give her hand a tug, and as she’s stumbling closer to me, I wrap my arm around her waist, leaning in so that my lips skate across her ear. “Engaged lovers would absolutely dance to ‘Strip It Down.’ Luke Bryan makes all the girls swoon, am I right?”
Shelby’s body relaxes, though it takes her several long seconds to slide her hands up my arms, across my shoulders, and behind my neck. I’m hyper focused on every inch of my body that’s touching hers. I mean, Shelby’s always given good hugs, but this feels different. Very different. I’ve got her curves under my hands, and as we begin to sway to the music, my dick forgets who we’re pressed against and just enjoys the friction. I try to put a little distance between our hips, but it’s a bit difficult on the packed dance floor.
Goddamn. Why don’t they crank the air conditioning when they have a live band? The temperature in here is higher than a giraffe’s ass.
“You okay, Dally?” Shelby purrs.
I look down to see her head tilted back, hair tickling my arm, and her eyebrow lifted in challenge. I’m quick to tell her I’m fine, but I think we both know that’s not true when I look away too soon. It’s discombobulating as hell to feel so out of control. I’m usually the one to flirt like an alley cat in heat. The one to drop a line and see where it takes me. Except with Shelby, my lines won’t work. And they shouldn’t work! She’s my best friend, for crap’s sake.
She starts to shake in my arms. At first, I think she’s crying, but when I look back down at her in alarm, her pretty lips are curved upward, and I realize she’s laughing at me. And I don’t like being laughed at when I haven’t cracked a joke. Time towrestle some control back and act like goddamn Dallas Gamble. Women don’t fluster me.
I dip my head and run my nose along her neck, stopping at her earlobe where I nuzzle the little flap of skin between my teeth. I feel her gasp, which makes me grin like an idiot. I let her earlobe slip from my teeth so my lips can explore her neck. She tastes like peaches and salt, a combination I didn’t know I’d like so much until this exact moment.
“What the fuck, Dallas?” Shelby hisses, quiet enough I’m sure only I can hear her.
Luke’s crooning away about stripping it down, and suddenly I’m thinking that sounds like a very good idea. I’d like to strip Shelby down. Get to the bottom of things between us. See if maybe being married for real might not be so bad. I think Shelby’s funny as hell. Loyal. Caring. A high achiever. Great with my son. Hot as hell too, though I know she doesn’t think so. I could do a lot worse, you know?
I pull away from her neck, not because I want to quite yet, and not because Shelby’s gone stiff in my arms, but because Luke’s got me thinking things aren’t that complicated. Not really. When you strip away all the expectations of everyone around us, I like Shelby. I care for her with the same ferocity that I care for my family, my son. And based on the way my jeans no longer fit me with Shelby’s curves all snug against me, maybe there could be a little passion in our marriage between friends.
So, like with all things in life, I take action and think about it later.
My hand leaves her waist long enough to push back a lock of her hair and to cup her cheek. Her eyes go as wide as a deer seeing headlights in the middle of the night. I can feel the flutter of her pulse, the flush of her cheeks, the little inhale of air she sucks between her glossy lips.
“Grab onto my shirt,” I practically grunt.
“Wh-why?” A little wrinkle forms between her eyebrows.
“’Cause I’m gonna kiss you, Sweetness, and your knees are liable to buckle.”
With that cocky declaration, I lean all the way down and capture her lips with mine. I don’t go for a light peck or a whisper of a kiss, no ma’am. I claim her lips like a man starving for the one woman in this county he never gave himself permission to taste. Until now. Until everyone in this room is eyeing us. Even though I know it’s all for show, I have the green light to kiss the ever-loving hell out of Shelby without repercussions, so I fucking go for it. I ain’t no half-asser.
Her gasp becomes my invitation to slide my tongue alongside hers. To tickle her mouth and taste the beer she was drinking before I stole her away to the dance floor. My arm goes tight as a bow around her waist, hauling her fully into my pelvis and letting her feel exactly what she does to me when she shakes that ass. I’m not sure what day it is or where we even are, but the fireworks exploding inside my head nearly take all my attention away from the details I’m trying to memorize.
Like the way Shelby goes limp in my arms, every square inch of her pliant in my grasp. Or the way her hands have fisted my shirt, probably wrinkling it so badly I’ll have to borrow Meemaw’s iron. Or the thundering beat that might be her heart or mine. There’s not enough room between us for me to tell whose it is.
She doesn’t respond at first, a problem I only notice in the back recesses of my brain. And then—holy fuck—she does respond. Her tongue duels with mine, and we’re both rabid, nearly climbing each other to get closer. To dominate. To get more.
