Oh.
Oh.
Role-play. He was doing the role-play thing from my list.
My heart kicked up a notch, but I forced myself to play along. I set my bag down slowly and turned to face him fully, crossing my arms over my chest.
“That depends,” I said, matching his formal tone. “What kind of lessons are you looking for?”
“Dancing.” He took another step closer,and I could see the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “I need to learn how to dance.”
I had to bite back my own smile. This was a dance studio, so that was kind of obvious. “Any particular style?”
“Whatever impresses women.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s a pretty broad category.”
“I’m flexible.” He was closer now, close enough that I could smell his cologne—that familiar woodsy scent that always made me want to bury my face in his neck.
I studied him for a moment, playing my part. He was the hot stranger who’d wandered into my studio wanting to learn how to move. It was ridiculous, but it was also kind of working for me.
“Why do you want to impress women?” I asked, circling him slowly the way I did when I was assessing a new student’s posture. “Seems like you’d do fine on your own.”
“There’s this girl,” he said, and his voice dropped lower. “I really like her and want to impress her.”
My stomach flipped. Even knowing this was a game, those words hit me deep.
“Must be some girl,” I said lightly.
“She is.” His eyes tracked my movement as I circled back around his side. “She’s smart. Funny. Talented. Way out of my league, honestly.”
“Sounds like you’re already doomed then. No amount of dancing is going to fix that.”
He laughed—a real laugh, breaking character for just a second—before schooling his expression back into earnest stranger mode. “Humor me. One lesson. If I’m hopeless, you can kick me out.”
I stopped directly in front of him, tilting my head. “Fine. One lesson. But you have to do exactly as I say.”
“Yes,ma’am.”
God, the way he said that.
I walked over to my phone and pulled up one of my favorite playlists. All the music was slow and sensual. It was the kind of music I’d never play in an actual class. When the first notes filled the studio, I turned back to find him watching me with an intensity that made heat pool low in my belly.
“First things first.” I crossed the distance between us and placed my hands on his shoulders, adjusting his posture. “You’re too tense. Loosen up.”
“I’m plenty loose.”
“You’re standing like you’re about to take a hit on the ice.” I ran my hands down his tattooed arms, feeling the muscles bunch under my touch. “Dancing is about fluidity. About letting your body respond to the music instead of fighting it.”
“And how do I do that?”
I moved behind him, pressing my palms flat against his lower back. “Start with your hips. Feel the beat?”
“Yeah.”
“Move with it. Not big movements. Just…” I guided his hips with my hands, showing him the motion. “Like that. Small and controlled, but still loose, moving with the rhythm.”
He followed my lead, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t affected by the way his body rolled under my touch. Liam was athletic and extremely coordinated. He picked things up fast. Within a minute, he’d found the rhythm, his hips moving in a slow, sinuous pattern that was doing things to my self-control.
