Chapter 16 #2
The rest of dinner crawled by, every course dragged out because Cordelia insisted on explaining the intricacies of each dish, the rarity of the ingredients, how long they took to prep, their remote source.
As much as I hated the woman, she knew how to throw a party, and the smells wafting off some of the plates were so delicious that I started salivating, even after finishing the first half of my sandwich.
I hesitated to eat the second part, waiting to see how it would settle.
Gastritis made your stomach swell so much that you had to be careful.
Consume too much, and you were in for a world full of hurt, or destined to throw up, and I didn’t relish the idea of having to race out of here with my hand over my mouth.
From the way Theo kept glancing my way, I knew he was getting antsy about me finishing my food, and it was in that moment I realized something: We were each other’s perfect tormentors.
Theo had what appeared to be a compulsive need to see me eat.
Meanwhile, I literally couldn’t, and him fixating on it was starting to stress me out.
If I’d been a religious person, or had any belief in fate, I’d say that we’d been paired together as punishment for our past sins.
Finally, dessert was served, and I was forced to sit in tortured silence while the people around me dug into delicate-looking soufflés, highly intricate patisserie, and an absolutely decadent flourless torte.
“Not even a single bite?” Theo asked, leaning in.
I shook my head, a sudden, unexpected swell of self-pity overwhelming me.
Would I ever be able to live a normal life again?
Or was I doomed to an existence of having to go without?
It felt so fucking unfair that everyone else could drink and eat to their heart’s content without ever having to worry about how much it might hurt, while I was forced to subsist on the blandest diet imaginable and was still in pain.
Theo must have seen something of my true feelings on my face, because he straightened up instead of making whatever shitty comment he’d prepared.
After dinner, we retired to the ballroom, where Cordelia gave a big speech about supporting a great cause. Unlike most fundraisers, Cordy didn’t plan an auction or any other fanfare. She simply asked guests to get out their checkbooks and donate.
“She didn’t even mention her husband,” Theo said, his voice low.
“I told you she hated him.”
The tables here were smaller, round, and didn’t have assigned seating, so people sat wherever they wanted. We were still with Mom and Dad, but now Richard had joined us, along with the Herdwicks.
“You two planning on dancing?” Richard asked.
We glanced his way. Shit. I didn’t know if Theo could dance. A big, cumbersome guy like him?
“I’m still working up the courage to ask her,” he said.
Richard tipped his glass in our direction. “You should do it while you can. None of us are promised a tomorrow.”
Mom swiveled toward me, expression wry. “With that bleak declaration, how could you say no?”
Richard chuckled with good humor. He was used to my mom’s bullshit.
Theo’s eyes met mine in challenge, and then the bastard offered me his hand. Goddamn it, I did not want to dance with him. Three minutes plastered together while a room full of people watched in not-so-silent judgment? Pass.
“There’s hardly anyone on the dance floor,” I said, looking for an escape route.
“That’s only because they’re waiting for a good-looking young couple to lure them out there,” Mom said, giving my shoulder a light shove.
I sent her a look that promised retribution.
She grinned, seemingly having the time of her life torturing one of her children.
Theo used my distraction to slip his hand into mine and pull me up. Oh, god. This was happening.
“Smile, Sunshine,” he said, leading me from the table.
I gave him my brightest smile, talking through my teeth. “Call me that again, and I will stomp on all your toes.”
His own smile ratcheted up a notch. “Do it, and I’ll return the favor.”
Inwardly, I winced, imagining all that weight coming down on my feet.
He led me to the middle of the dance floor and eased me toward him. I focused my eyes on his to distract myself from the fact that we were now the center of attention.
The music started. Annoyingly, Theo pulled me into an effortless waltz, practically gliding over the floor, and suddenly my attention went into not fucking up the steps. It had been a long time since I’d done this, and I was out of practice.
“Was dancing together really necessary?” I asked, my smile still fixed in place.
“Yes,” Theo answered, half-turning us when we neared the band, who were playing some slower classical number I couldn’t identify.
“I’m still trying to worm my way into everyone’s good graces.
Stop being so dramatic about it.” He eyed me.
“Or are you worried that being this close to me might overwhelm you with lust and you’ll try to grope me in public? ”
“You have the most punchable face I have ever seen,” I said, my tone saccharine.
His eyes sparked. “I am begging you to try it. I would love an excuse to put you in a headlock.”
My expression remained warm, but my tone was frigid. “So much for not being an asshole anymore.”
“What can I say?” He grinned. “You bring it out of me.”
I grinned back. “Have you been overdoing it on whey protein? Because your breath smells like milk farts.”
“Better than the scent of battery acid you keep exhaling.”
That shut me up, because it might be the truth.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“For what?”
In answer, he spun me away from him so fast I almost went whirling across the dance floor like a runaway top.
Only his death grip on my hand stopped me.
With a yank, I was spinning toward him again, stopping when my back slammed into his chest. His free hand clamped down on my shoulder, keeping me there while we swayed to the music for a few beats.
“Again,” he said, all the warning I was given before he spun me out once more.
This time, I flowed into the movement, actually allowing him to lead me, even though I’d rather chew glass.
With a gentler tug, he pulled me forward.
I pressed a palm to his shoulder, my other finding his like they were magnets.
His free hand went to my waist, so big I felt his fingers span halfway across my back.
Instead of fighting him, I sank into his grip, my long years of dance finally overcoming my discomfort.
My limbs became loose, steps sure, and soon we were floating across the floor.
“Where’d you learn to dance like this?” I asked, because as much as I hated to admit it, he was a good lead.
“Why? Poor kids shouldn’t know how?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Stop putting words in my mouth.” My face was starting to hurt from holding this smile through my mounting annoyance. “What happened to our truce?”
“Fine.” The word came out clipped, and I knew he was struggling as much as I was, despite his outward appearance of calm. “What did you mean by that comment, then?”
“I just assumed an obvious jock like you was too busy bench-pressing farm animals to take up ballroom dancing.”
“One of my exes was a dance instructor,” he said. “Sometimes, he’d ask me to help with demonstrations. And yes, I am a jock, which means it’s easy for me to pick up anything that involves moving my body, including this.”
The song was coming to a close, and Theo spun me again, slower this time, allowing me to fully extend, my free arm rising, hand loose like my ballet instructors had taught, toe pointed, neck elongated.
A soft tug had me twirling back toward him, and he passed me from one arm to the next before dropping into a half squat and dipping me over his knee.
We paused there, chests heaving, both of us breathing harder than we should have been.
Our eyes met, clashed, and I begged myself not to think about the feeling of him pinning me to the study door.
Yes, I hated this man, but I was starting to realize that hatred didn’t keep me from wanting to fuck him.
Violently. Forcing him to admit that he was attracted to me, too, and I wasn’t the only one stuck in this hellscape of unwanted need.
What I felt toward him was less about desire and more about dominance, about winning whatever this sick game was. I’d even stop myself from coming, just to prove that I could get him off, but he was too inadequate to give me the same pleasure.
He bumped his nose against mine. “You have shark eyes again. Are you thinking of killing or kiss—”
A loud whistle cut through the air, and then cheering.
I tore my gaze from Theo’s to see the other dancers ringing the edge of the floor, a few of them clapping for us. Oh, Jesus. How long had we been the only ones dancing? How long had we been the center of attention?
And why the fuck hadn’t I noticed?
“Smile, Sunshine,” Theo said, hauling me upright.
Some asshole tapped a knife against their glass, and then the sound of tinkling spread throughout the room.
No. Absolutely not. I was not going to kiss this man in front of a crowd full of—oh, fuck—Theo was spinning me again, dipping me over his arm, my back arching as his free hand cradled my cheek.
His face filled my vision, closing in, and then his lips were on mine, warm and firm, there one second and gone the next as he lifted me back to standing.
“Take a bow,” he said beneath his breath.
I sank into a ballet curtsy as he bent forward at the waist. The clapping intensified.
And then I hurried off the dance floor, not bothering to check if Theo followed. I had to get away, just needed one goddamn minute to myself to recover from whatever the hell that had been.