13. Alba #2
His eyes sparkled, and his hand slid higher. His fingers pressed into my back, palm warm against me, and that pooling heat pulsed between my legs.
I ignored it.
This was my stability, my second chance. This was my only hope at not having to crawl back to Mommy and Daddy Dearest and discover that I really wasn’t so strong and independent, after all. I could not mess it up. Not until I had some sort of financial safety net. A plan. A direction.
“The waltz is in three-four time, meaning three beats per measure.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, nodding, but I could tell he had no idea what I meant.
I bit back a smile and explained, “ One -two-three, one -two-three.”
“Got it,” he said. His hand splayed a little wider, and I found myself leaning a tiny bit closer, like my body wanted us chest to chest.
Resisting the urge, I demonstrated the basic steps. To my surprise, Vaughn caught on quickly. Within minutes, he was leading.
“Stop trying to throw me around the room, Vaughn. Gentle pressure on my back will do.”
His version of gentle pressure was an undeniable demand to move into the cage of his arms. Our bodies drew closer, and it was only a slight stumble from him that jarred me back to myself.
I stepped back. “Good,” I said. “Let’s try it with music.”
My hands were trembling as I picked my phone up off the floor. It was still plugged into the sound system and I’d cued up the music, so all I had to do was unlock it and press play.
I looked up and, in the mirror, saw Vaughn practicing his steps to the music, his face screwed up with concentration, his arms out, steps slightly awkward but not quite off-beat.
The wrinkle between his brows and the slight parting of his lips made me melt a little. A big, broad man, trying his hardest.
It said a lot about him, that he was throwing himself into this. He was determined and unafraid. It made me like him a little more.
It also made me wonder why . I’d looked him up, and Forbes estimated his fortune somewhere in the high-hundred millions.
He didn’t need to go to this gala or get an investor.
He could fund whatever venture he wanted himself.
But he’d made that comment— I won’t be a failure —like it meant something.
He was chasing something, and I couldn’t figure out what it was.
Entry into the world that had ousted me?
Then he glanced at me, and his lips quirked.
My mouth was dry as I stepped up to him, our bodies fitting together like we’d been dancing together for years and not minutes.
My heart thumped hard as his scent enveloped me.
The smell of the outdoors had dissipated so all that was left was the scent of him.
His hand found the small of my back and slid up, like he liked the feel of his fingers running along my spine.
I tilted my head and found his eyes on me. Our chests were nearly brushing. My nipples were hard points under my sports bra.
For just a moment, I wondered if he’d take me here, hard up against the mirrors, my leggings around my ankles. If he’d bite my shoulder and shudder as he emptied himself into me, hands holding my hips still until the breath returned to our bodies.
Then I blinked, and rehearsed the litany of reasons I could never have him. The reasons why I didn’t want him.
By the time our hour was up, I was flushed. Vaughn had unbuttoned another button on his chest, and the space between his shoulder blades was damp. The world outside the windows was dark, snowy, and cold. It might as well have been another planet.
“What?” I asked as Vaughn studied me while I handed him a bottle of water from the studio fridge.
“I’m imagining a little Alba learning to dance so she could fit in at society balls, and how different that must have been to the way I grew up. You were a natural, I assume?”
I snorted. “My dance teacher went gray trying to get me to stop leading.”
“That tracks.”
I smacked his shoulder. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He gulped his water, his eyes sparkling. When he’d swallowed, he gestured toward me with the mouth of his water bottle. “You don’t like people telling you what to do.”
“Does anyone?” I protested. And that was unfair. I didn’t like having to fight to be allowed to make my own decisions. I didn’t like that when I tried to decide for myself who I’d spend my life with, the rug was pulled out from under me in punishment. Of course I hated people telling me what to do.
“So I’m right?” he challenged.
I lifted my chin. “And what, you’re any better? When I told you to get a new suit, you nearly bit my head off.”
“‘Told me to get a new suit?’” Vaughn protested, laughing. “You said I looked like a little boy playing dress-up.”
I had said that, hadn’t I? I waved my own bottle of water at him. “Potato, po-tah-to.”
His laugh was velvet wrapping around my body, raising goosebumps over my skin. “I don’t mind,” he said, voice quieting. “You were the only one with the balls to say it out loud.”
“You must work with a bunch of invertebrates.”
“Engineers, mostly,” he replied. “I’m not sure they know anything about suiting either.”
“Good thing you’ve got me, then.”
His eyes roamed over my face, flicking down to my lips before coming back up to meet my eyes. “Good thing I’ve got you,” he agreed, and the tenor of his voice sent a shiver through me.
Too much. Too close. Too dangerous.
I painted a bright smile on my face—one of the ones I’d used at the restaurant to put walls up between me and too-forward customers that wouldn’t lead to me losing out on much-needed tips. Vaughn saw it, and frowned.
He cleared his throat and leaned over to pick up his jacket. “I’ve got my daughter for the next two weeks, so I won’t be able to do evenings. I’ll have Hillary send through my availability during the day.”
Just like that, the teasing and camaraderie was gone. It felt like a slap, but I was the one who’d put my walls up first.
I nodded as I gathered my own things. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll be in touch.”