She exhales slowly. The sound is somehow satisfying.I’m fine. You’re the one holding onto me so tight as if you’re afraid I’m about to run away.
“Please,” I whisper, even as I don’t move my hand. “You couldn’t outrun me in those shoes.”
She laughs silently, and it vibrates right into me.
Don’t underestimate a woman. Especially one who’s mastered running in heels. I can fight, dance, and do anything I want in them.
I grin. “Yeah? You really think you’d be faster? I want totest that.”
I should let go. I should put space between us. But I don’t.
“Including keeping up with me.”
Her mouth drops open in an offended gasp as she tilts her head up to look at me, as we keep dancing with her pressed up against me.
Please. I could outrun you, out dance you, and outfight you in these heels,she writes with complete confidence.
I spin her around, putting distance between us, unable to stop wondering why she didn’t pull away, though.
“Sure,” I scoff, leaning in just a little. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Heaven pokes my shoulder with a finger.Don’t make me remind you that I won our last match.
“I let you win,” I taunt, snickering as we continue to dance, my hand once again on her waist. I watch her, noticing how her eyes keep looking me over before she looks away quickly.
I don’t think we even had to try to make that jerk ex of hers jealous. Smirking, I pull her close for a second before we shift with the beat, spinning, stepping, moving around each other without missing a breath.
We’re close, maybe too close, but I don’t bother moving away, and neither does she.
I can feel eyes on us, several pairs, but it shouldn’t matter. There is nothing to hide; we’re just two friends dancing. So, why do I feel like we’re being caught doing something we shouldn’t?
Why does it feel like they’re seeing somethingI’mnot ready to admit?
I shake it off.
I’m not an idiot, but right now I’m going to ignore everything my mind is fucking telling me.
The song is coming close to an end, the beat picking up, and Heaven moves away, removing her hand from my shoulder as she steps away, her hips rolling in a smooth, controlled shimmy, the motion running up her spine. Then she catches the momentum, pivots, and spins again. One turn, two, three, it’s a fluid move, her hand leaving mine, her dress sweeping around her legs in a tight, elegant flare. With one final spin, her hand is back in mine, and she gives me a confident smirk with a flick of her head.
As if saying ‘top that’.
Damn.
“That’s all you’ve got?” I drawl.
Her eyebrows lift as if she’s waiting to be impressed.
Fine.
Challenge accepted.
I step closer, releasing her hand as I raise my hand in front of my face, lowering my head as I let the beat run through me. A sharp body roll, grounded and confident in the samesensual moves I pulled on stage on Halloween. Every muscle in my body flexes as I do a sharp spin, smirking when I see the heat in her cheeks.
Then I slide behind her, guide her back in with a firm tug, and we hit one clean, synchronised turn.
She barely has time to gasp before I take it further. My hand settles at her waist before I lift her smoothly. She doesn’t falter, arching her body in a long and elegant arch over mine, her bare back above me. I notice the subtle glitter that covers her shoulder blades. I spin us around as she holds her arch, and then I shift my hold and throw her up. She doesn’t even flinch as she does a perfect flip in the sky, and we hear a few gasps from around us before she lets herself fall back perfectly, and I catch her.
She actually trusts me.
