Page 50 of Ice Dance

Something with a deep, heavy beat came on. “Sexy for Me,” by Jason Derulo. The DJ teased his crowd, seeing who’d rise to the challenge of dancing to the deliberately sensual beat.

I almost pulled away, thought about it. But Navarro turned on the spot, planted my hands on his ass, and dropped his hand to my lower back, locking us tightly together. I might have been able to pull away then too, if his soft blue eyes hadn’t fixed on mine. His lips parted, the tip of his tongue sweeping out. I wasn’t thinking by then, just feeling. I wasn’t going to be the one to end this.

We danced, pressed in close. The kind of dance you don’t find on ice. His thigh snug between mine, hips moving together. I felt him everywhere, plastered down my length. He rocked his hips, turning his body into a tease that I had to chase. I answered him, and when he turned this time, his back against my chest, I dropped my hands to the hollows of his hips, pulling him tighter, breathing him in. We were no longer two people, we’d become one, swaying, grinding, connected on the floor. Everyone else vanished. There was only him. His breathing, his heat, his body against mine.

Everything we do is dangerous.

I could feel myself falling, letting go, surrendering.

This wasn’t what I was supposed to do, was everything I resisted, everything I kept hidden deep inside, never to see the light of day, or the dance floor.

He turned back again, and his hands stroked down my back, briefly traveling over my ass, fingers digging in. I let my lashes flutter closed, let my body say the things I never could. We ground together, swaying hard, fingers dragging, breaths heavy. The music ended, the beat was gone, and it was just us, him looking up, into my eyes, sharing our panting breaths.

The music changed again, whiplashing to something else, startling me into real time, where we stood on a public dance floor surrounded by strangers, any of whom could have seen everything I’d foolishly just revealed.

I couldn’t keep it from my face. Didn’t know how to rebuild all my barriers fast enough. There was only one thing I could do. Get away.

I stepped back, bumped into someone, looked at them, apologized, turned back. Navarro still stood there, lips parted, a frown starting at his brow.

“I uh . . . have to go,” I mumbled.

I didn’t wait for a reply, just headed outside into space and air. Head down, hands in my pockets, I walked hard in no particular direction. Just away.

I’d revealed too much.

My control had vanished.

I’d shown him things about me that did not belong in professional dancing of any kind, and Navarro would have felt it. He was too astute not to.

Shame crawled up my insides and spilled in chills across my skin.

What had I done? This was what I’d been afraid of. This would ruin us. I’d ruin us.

TWENTY

CAMDEN

I fell against the bar, breathless and reeling.

Saga was there. He handed me my beer without a word, which was how I knew it was bad.

“Well, that was the hottest thing I’ve seen in a long while, and I have a more interesting sex life than you do, so . . .”

“Stop.” I needed to think. Needed to breathe. I needed air.

“Are you fucking him? Because that’s how you dance when you’re fucking.”

“Shut up, Saga.” I waved the barman over, collected my top and Hasegawa’s, and pushed from the bar. Outside, I checked both ways but couldn’t see him. He couldn’t have gotten far. Left or right? Shit. I went right, and jogged down the sidewalk. C’mon, where was he? I had to apologize. I’d completely fucked everything up. The dance . . . I hadn’t meant to go that far. Hasegawa was straight. You don’t touch another dancer in places like that, for so many reasons. And definitely not Hasegawa. I’d probably scared him off. Shit, shit, shit. I’d had my hands on his ass, for fuck’s sake.

But he’d seemed so into it.

Until he hadn’t.

This was bad.

I broke into a run.

I couldn’t lose him.