“Since I’ve tried to be smooth or whatever,” I admitted. “I’m not exactly good at it.”
“Nah, you’re doing fine. Why would it be weird for us to dance?”
“I’ve never—err—” The heat in my cheeks became more intense and I broke off. I finished digging myself a hole by adding, “With a guy.”
Reed gave me a quizzical look. “Danced? Or—”
“Anything. I’ve never wanted to.” Then I froze. Why the hell couldn’t I watch my mouth around this guy? I knew how to run interrogations, for crying out loud! “Holy shit, why am I telling you this? I swear I’m not a psychopath.”
“Cheers,” Reed said, grinning and raising his glass. He didn’t look especially surprised by anything I’d just said.
I clinked it, feeling a little miserable and expecting Reed to politely excuse himself at any moment. “Cheers.”
Reed downed his whiskey in one gulp. I copied him.
At least the booze would make the incoming rejection sting less.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” Reed said, setting the empty glasses on the table next to us. Surprise flashed through me as he took my hand, his touch warm and gentle. “And I wouldn’t mind if you shared some of those firsts with me.”
Then, my hand still in his, he led me out to the dance floor.
His brows shot up when I started moving to the beat of the pop song blasting over the speakers. He raised his voice to say, “You didn’t say you could dance.”
I grinned at him, suddenly happier than I could remember feeling in a long time. “There’s plenty about me you don’t know.”
“But I will, soon enough.”
My pulse quickened in a way that had nothing to do with the way I was moving my body.
We danced together for five songs in a row until a slow one came on.
Reed must’ve seen the way my expression faltered as uncertainty flooded through me—I’d never slow-danced with another man before, either—because he took me by the hand again. “Let’s take a break.”
With that, he led us to one of the circular wedding tables nearest to us. Mercifully, there was no one else sitting there.
His gaze held mine, a small smile tracing across his lips. “Who are you, Harris?”
Was it my imagination, or did I see a flash of real warmth in his eyes? Or, no, scratch that. It was more than warmth. It was an emotion I wasn’t even sure how to name.
But somehow, gazing into Reed’s eyes felt like the answer to a question I’d never learned how to ask myself. It was insanity, the way I felt so completely at ease around him—but also the way my body was responding to him, like I was a schoolboy with a first crush and not a seasoned member of the LAPD.
“Just a guy,” I said. “An ordinary guy.”
“We call them mundanes,” Reed said. “And I doubt that. You’re apparently an ‘ordinary guy’ who hangs out with vampires.”
“Cole’s not so bad, once you get to know him.” I paused, then added, “You left out the part where I dance with werewolves.”
“How could I forget?” Reed asked, a smile curving his lips. And there it was again. That flash of tender, unnamable emotion in his eyes.
“Look, I’ve never done anything like this before,” I said, reaching across the table to take Reed’s hand. There was an immense sense of rightness at his touch. “With a—”
“A werewolf?” There was a challenge in his voice.
“No,” I replied. “Like I said before. With a guy.”
His head tilted to the side and he studied me. “But are you—uh—intoguys?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure it’s safe to say I’m not fully straight.” And it was true—though I’d never explored that aspect of my sexuality before, I was definitely intohim. My body responded instinctively to his nearness, growing harder, my pulse quickening. Between my physical reaction and the bizarre feeling of trust and belonging I felt with this total stranger, it should’ve freaked me out. But it didn’t. Instead, I felt a calm certainty settle over me. “Am I out of line?”
