“Was dancing together really necessary?” I asked, my smile still fixed in place.
“Yes,” Theo answered, half-turning us when we neared the band, who were playing some slower classical number I couldn’t identify. “I’m still trying to worm my way into everyone’s good graces. Stop being so dramatic about it.” He eyed me. “Or are you worried that being this close to me might overwhelm you with lust and you’ll try to grope me in public?”
“You have the most punchable face I have ever seen,” I said, my tone saccharine.
His eyes sparked. “I am begging you to try it. I would love an excuse to put you in a headlock.”
My expression remained warm, but my tone was frigid. “So much for not being an asshole anymore.”
“What can I say?” He grinned. “You bring it out of me.”
I grinned back. “Have you been overdoing it on whey protein? Because your breath smells like milk farts.”
“Better than the scent of battery acid you keep exhaling.”
That shut me up, because it might be the truth.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“For what?”
In answer, he spun me away from him so fast I almost went whirling across the dance floor like a runaway top. Only his death grip on my hand stopped me. With a yank, I was spinning toward him again, stopping when my back slammed into his chest. His free hand clamped down on my shoulder, keeping me there while we swayed to the music for a few beats.
“Again,” he said, all the warning I was given before he spun me out once more.
This time, I flowed into the movement, actually allowing him to lead me, even though I’d rather chew glass. With a gentler tug, he pulled me forward. I pressed a palm to his shoulder, my other finding his like they were magnets. His free hand went to my waist, so big I felt his fingers span halfway across my back. Instead of fighting him, I sank into his grip, my long years of dance finally overcoming my discomfort. My limbs became loose, steps sure, and soon we were floating across the floor.
“Where’d you learn to dance like this?” I asked, because as much as I hated to admit it, he was a good lead.
“Why? Poor kids shouldn’t know how?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Stop putting words in my mouth.” My face was starting to hurt from holding this smile through my mounting annoyance. “What happened to our truce?”
“Fine.” The word came out clipped, and I knew he was struggling as much as I was, despite his outward appearance of calm. “Whatdidyou mean by that comment, then?”
“I just assumed an obvious jock like you was too busy bench-pressing farm animals to take up ballroom dancing.”
“One of my exes was a dance instructor,” he said. “Sometimes, he’d ask me to help with demonstrations. And yes, Iama jock, which means it’s easy for me to pick up anything that involves moving my body, including this.”
The song was coming to a close, and Theo spun me again, slower this time, allowing me to fully extend, my free arm rising, hand loose like my ballet instructors had taught, toe pointed, neck elongated. A soft tug had me twirling back toward him, and he passed me from one arm to the next before dropping into a half squat and dipping me over his knee.
We paused there, chests heaving, both of us breathing harder than we should have been. Our eyes met, clashed, and I begged myself not to think about the feeling of him pinning me to the study door. Yes, I hated this man, but I was starting to realize that hatred didn’t keep me from wanting to fuck him. Violently. Forcing him to admit that he was attracted to me, too, and I wasn’t the only one stuck in this hellscape of unwanted need.
What I felt toward him was less about desire and more about dominance, about winning whatever this sick game was. I’d even stop myself from coming, just to prove that I could get him off, but he was too inadequate to give me the same pleasure.
He bumped his nose against mine. “You have shark eyes again. Are you thinking of killing or kiss—”
A loud whistle cut through the air, and then cheering.
I tore my gaze from Theo’s to see the other dancers ringing the edge of the floor, a few of them clapping for us. Oh, Jesus. How long had we been the only ones dancing? How long had we been the center of attention?
And why the fuck hadn’t I noticed?
“Smile, Sunshine,” Theo said, hauling me upright.
Some asshole tapped a knife against their glass, and then the sound of tinkling spread throughout the room. No. Absolutely not. I was not going to kiss this man in front of a crowd full of—oh, fuck—Theo was spinning me again, dipping me over his arm, my back arching as his free hand cradled my cheek. His face filled my vision, closing in, and then his lips were on mine, warm and firm, there one second and gone the next as he lifted me back to standing.
“Take a bow,” he said beneath his breath.
