I had noticed. Noticed how we moved like we'd been dancing together for years instead of minutes. Noticed how his body fit against mine with disturbing perfection. Noticed how the music seemed to fade until all I could hear was his breathing, the rustle of fabric, the thundering of my own pulse.
I tightened my grip on his waist, pulled him through another turn more aggressively than necessary. The movement brought our hips flush together, my growing erection pressing against him through layers of expensive fabric. His eyes widened fractionally—surprise or pleasure, I couldn't tell which.
Cal's breath caught. Just slightly. “Problem?”
“You tell me.”
“No problem.” His hand slid from my shoulder to the back of my neck properly now, fingers threading into my hair where no one could see. The touch sent electricity down my spine. “Just noticing you're very committed to this. Very... thorough.”
The ballroom spun around us, other couples blurring into background noise. For a moment—just one breathless moment—it was only us. His mismatched eyes holding mine, the heat of his body against me, the way his fingers tightened in my hair like he couldn't help himself.
“Shut up,” I managed.
“Make me.” He pressed closer, eliminating space between us. My cock was fully hard now, trapped between us, impossible to hide. The pressure made me bite back a groan. “Oh wait. You can't. Not here. Not with everyone watching.”
I guided him through another sequence. My hand splayed across the small of his back, feeling the flex of muscle underneath expensive fabric as he moved. “You're enjoying this.”
“Immensely.” His thumb stroked the nape of my neck in a way that went straight to my cock. “Though I have to admit, your dedication is impressive. Very firm.”
We moved through the next sequence in silence, but the damage was done. My cock throbbed against him with every step, and Cal knew it, and the satisfaction in his expression made me want to drag him off this floor and either kill him or fuck him senseless.
But I couldn't. Because we were surrounded by diplomats and prosecutors and people with cameras who would absolutely notice if I did anything that betrayed how hard I was, how much I wanted to bend him over the nearest surface and make him stop looking so bloody pleased with himself.
So instead I danced. Kept moving. Let the friction build between us until my cock was leaking and my hands were shaking slightly with the effort of maintaining control. Let myself feel the weight of his hand in mine, the warmth of his breath, the way he trusted me to lead him through movements that required absolute faith in your partner.
And that was the dangerous part. Not the arousal or the witnesses or even the investigation he was conducting. It was how easily he'd given me that trust. How naturally we moved together, like our bodies had been designed to fit.
“You're shaking,” Cal observed quietly. Something had softened in his expression—less challenge, more genuine curiosity.
“Your fault.”
“Is it?” His mouth curved, but the satisfaction had shifted into something gentler. “I'm just dancing. You're the one who can't seem to control yourself.”
“Because you're deliberately—” I stopped, realising we were drawing attention. Viktor watching from across the floor with obvious amusement. Sebastian's knowing smile. Other guests tracking our movement with pointed interest that would definitely end up in tomorrow's society columns.
“We're making a scene,” I said.
“Good. Price hasn't looked away once.” But Cal's voice had gone quieter, almost tender. His hand tightened on my shoulder. “Keep going. Show him how convincing we are.”
The music swelled toward its crescendo. I brought us through a final turn that ended with his back arched slightly, my hand supporting him, our faces close enough that I could see the darker ring around his blue iris, count the flecks of brown in the green one. Could see the way his pulse jumped in his throat, the slight part of his lips as he caught his breath.
My cock pressed hard against his hip. His eyes had gone dark with something that wasn't just professional calculation—something raw and real and terrifying in its intensity.
Neither of us moved. The music had stopped but we stood frozen, the rest of the ballroom fading to background noise. For three heartbeats, maybe four, we just existed there together. No tactics. No performance. Just two people who'd somehow found each other in the middle of all this chaos.
“See?” he said quietly, so softly only I could hear. “Not everything has to be tactics.”
I released him. Stepped back even though my cock protested violently. Put proper distance between us while my body screamed at the loss of contact.
Applause rippled through the ballroom. Other couples had stopped as well, but enough were looking at us specifically that I knew we'd been obvious. That whatever had just happened between us had been witnessed by everyone who mattered.
Cal straightened his jacket, smoothed his expression into something neutral. But his hands were unsteady, and that made something in my chest ache. “Thanks for the dance.”
“You're welcome.”
“You're better than I expected.”
“So you've said.”
