“It’s the dance ofsex,Eriksson.” She blinked as if she were explaining Rumba 101 to a 220-pound toddler. “Keep up.”
She said it like a threat, not a suggestion. As though she’d broken better men with a swivel of her hip and a well-timed breath. She wasn’t just warning him. She was daring him. And all he could think, as her gaze dragged over him like a silk noose, was that he hadn’t come here to lose. But for the first time in his life, he didn’t know if winning meant resisting her… or letting her ruin him completely.
For once, Nate chose obedience.
“Show me.”
Holly didn’t hesitate. She took a slow step toward him, body language all sharp lines draped with simmering grace.
“Rumba’s slow,” she said, voice soft but certain. “Controlled. Every step has to stretch, like you’re pulling time apart. You lead, but only because Iletyou. The rhythm is four beats. You start on count two, replace on three, breathe on four.” Her warm brown gaze snapped up to him. “Tease on one.”
She moved while she spoke, cycling through the timing she’d just given him. “Two, three, four,one.”She pivoted, letting her hip roll through the silence like punctuation until it reached an impossible end range he wasn’t sure he could hit with all the hip-flexor warmups in the world.
“It’s all about resistance. You don’t lunge.You melt,”she instructed, letting her body collapse toward him like she wanted to physically wrap herself around him and never unwind. Nate caught a hint of whatever perfume she wore. Warm, like amber and trouble.
“You never rush the touch. You drag it out until the tension hurts. Every look, every hand on skin is a promise youdon’tkeep. Not yet. Maybe not ever,” she said, throwing him a sultry look that vanished as soon as she stood upright like a normal human being not bent on destroying him with aggressively redirected blood flow.
She locked eyes with him then. Clinical, just like Sully would. “That’s why it’s the sexiest dance on the floor,” she said, calm as anything. “It’s not about taking. It’s aboutwaiting.”
And just like that, Nate understood why dancers were dangerous. Because she hadn't even touched him yet, and he was already leaking in his fucking boxers.
Nate had faced down huge goons with murder in their eyes and fists like cinder blocks. He’d bled on the ice, shattered a tooth mid-shift, taken a puck to the jaw and kept skating. He’donce broken his pinky, yanked it back into place, and scored a goal from the point line fifteen seconds later. But this?This was how he died.
They settled into learning the Rumba basic, with the production crew lingering just long enough to get the b-roll footage they needed before heading out to film the next couple. Nate tried to follow her lead. He really did. But every step felt out of time, and the second she twisted her hips ever so slightly into his space, he completely blanked.
His palm was supposed to rest lightly on her back, but it hovered awkwardly in the air like he was afraid he might scald himself if he touched her. Which, to be fair, was a legitimate concern.
“Okay, stop,” Holly said sharply, stepping back with a clip of heels. Her mouth was set in a line that didn’t match the slow seduction of the music still bleeding from the speaker. “What are you doing?”
Nate rubbed the back of his neck, heat rising under his collar. “Trying not to step on you?”
“Congratulations,” she told him with a roll of her eyes. “Mission accomplished. But could you try looking less like you'd rather be getting a dental exam? We need to sell this like you want to sleep with me.”
Sweet, merciful Gretsky.
He looked at her, willing his smart mouth to kick in. Everything in his body was misfiring. His brain was scrambled from the way she moved, the way her voice dropped when she saidcontrol. And all he could think about was how perfectly pink her lips were.
“Maybe if you acted like you wanted to be here,” she said at last, “you'd be able to pick up a basic rhythm.”
“Never said Iwantedto be here,” he glared back at her.
She didn’t answer right away.
“Be that as it may, you’ll need to act like it.” Holly crossed her arms and gave him the kind of stare that could knock a lesser man flat. “It's not just your career on the line here. You might not give a shit about looking like an idiot on national TV, but I have a reputation to uphold.” She was breathing harder. Eyes set on him.
And Nate didn’t know what to say to that. So he didn’t say anything.
“Okay,” she said at last, taking his lack of response for what it was: compliance. “From the top.”
He dragged himself to his mark, close enough to feel her presence like a brand against his skin. Holly was all clean lines and cold fire, spine straight, arms folded tight against her body. Her expression was that of a woman who’d seen every masculine failure and had compiled a fucking catalog. Unfortunately, it did something to him.
“Two, three, four, one?—”
The beat dropped and he moved on instinct, only to immediately fuck it up. His feet tangled, his balance went sideways, and he stumbled out of rhythm so hard it felt personal. He was half a beat behind, too heavy, too slow, a wall of muscle trying to move like a feather. To say the sheer disconnect between what he wanted his body to do and the movement he was trying to achieve frustrated him would be an understatement.
“Stop, stop.” Her voice cracked like a whip, slicing through the music.“Jesus,Eriksson.”
“Didn’t realize you were auditioning for Drill Sergeant Barbie,” he snapped back before he could stop himself.
