Do not look at that naked chest. Do not look at it.
She looked at it.
Lord, it was something to see. It put the romance book cover to shame. While he had tattoos covering his forearms, he didn’t have a one on his biceps, shoulders, or chest. Just miles of smooth, tanned skin covering knots of hard, defined muscle. In the middle of all that breathtaking manscape was a crop of jet-black chest hair that tapered into a thin trail. A trail that headed between neat rows of abdominals and disappeared beneath the undone button of his jeans. Was it her imagination or was the fly of his jeans growing?
She jerked her gaze up to his face. “Well, if everything is fine and dandy here, then I’ll just be on my way.” She started to leave, but he stepped in front of her.
“You weren’t here making sure no one was stealing tools. You were dancing.”
She wanted to come up with a good excuse for shuffling around the floor like an idiot, but the muscled bare chest inches away made thinking clearly impossible.
“Umm . . . I was just practicing . . . for a dance competition I’m in.”
It was easy to read the amusement in his eyes. “A dance competition, huh? I hate to point this out, honey, but you need more than practice. That was the worst dancing I’ve ever seen.” She felt insulted . . . and a little lightheaded Jaxon Hennessy had called her honey.
“Maybe I’m not great at the waltz. But I doubt you can do better. From what I saw growing up, you never asked one girl to dance.”
A smile hiked up the corner of his mouth. “And you would know, wouldn’t you, Tully Stalker?”
“I did not stalk you!” She went to shove him out of her way, but froze when her hands met hard chest. How could a man be this hard and this hot? It was like touching a cast-iron stove. Her palms felt scorched. But she didn’t pull away. She just stood there, absorbing all the virile heat.
Except for the flex of his muscles, he didn’t move either. When she lifted her gaze, those golden eyes were filled with just as much heat. They stood like that, with their gazes locked, for what felt like forever before he finally stepped back and spoke.
“The waltz isn’t that hard. You’re just drawing an imaginary box on the floor with your feet to a six count.” He demonstrated, dancing around the floor like she had with his arms held out and counting as he went. But while she had probably looked like an awkward oaf, he looked like a graceful Dancing with the Stars mirror ball winner.
Of course, he did.
Jaxon did everything well.
Except rob gas stations.
The thought made her remember who she was and who he was. When he glided back to her, she started to make her excuses. But her words died when he took her hand and pulled her into his arms.
“It’s a box. Just a simple box.” His fingers tightened on her hand and the upper part of her hip, the hot digits burning through her pants like mini branding irons. “Step back with your right foot first.” She stepped back and he squinted. “That’s not your right.”
She cringed. “Sorry.”
“Now just follow my lead.” He pulled her into the dance and she tried to follow, but she ended up being as clumsy as always. She stumbled every other step and repeatedly had to apologize for stepping on his toes. Finally, he gave up and stopped. “There is no dance competition, is there?”
Since the jig was up, she told the truth. “No. I just wanted to dance at Honky Tonk Heaven . . . just once.”
He studied her for a long moment before he lifted her completely off her feet. She might have asked what he was doing if her brain cells hadn’t been completely wiped out when he loosen his hold and she slid down his half-naked body like a pornographic slip-and-slide. The man was hard everywhere . . . like everywhere. And there was no overlooking the hard length that pressed against her on the way down.
But her libido only had a second to react before her boots settled on the tops of his boots and Jaxon started sliding his feet and counting into her ear.
She thought she’d feel ridiculous, like some child dancing with their daddy. And she did, at first. But his grip was firm and secure and the husky timbre of his voice hypnotic. Soon, she forgot about how ridiculous she looked and started to enjoy the feeling of dancing with someone other than her mama for the first time in her life.
Jaxon might not have asked any girls to dance when he was younger, but somewhere along the lines, he’d learned how to dance. Even with a clumsy woman attached to him like a toddler, it was obvious he knew what he was doing.
And he made her feel like she did too.
He was right. The waltz was just making a box repeatedly with their feet. Once they’d made two full circuits around the floor, he lifted her off his boots and she was on her own.
She stumbled a few times, stepped on his toes a few more, but he never gave up like her mama had. He just kept leading her around the floor until she was dancing.
She was dancing.
She lifted her gaze from their feet to his face. “I’m doing it!”
