Chapter 5 Melanie #2
“And you’ll have rabbit shit between your toes before you know it.
” He releases the grass and grabs my wrist, pulling me up while he straightens his legs.
He towers over me, just as surprising as it was the first time we met, and uses his impressive height to force me to fold my neck to keep him in my sight.
Exposing my throat—a death sentence in the wild.
But when I expect him to release me, he slides his palm down and twines our fingers together instead, tugging me in until his sweaty chest touches my shirt, and his cologne-sweat scent is an intoxicating concoction that should be illegal.
“You’re not adopting eight rabbits, Princess.
That would be impulsive and not smart. Besides, they’d rather be free, anyway.
But we can come check on them a couple of times a day.
” His eyes warm my face like a physical caress that turns my knees to jelly and my heart to a thundering staccato.
“I figure, on the day of the wedding, we’ll probably dance, right? ”
My throat is dry, and my tongue is too large for my mouth. My brain is stuck back on the eight-pack thing, and still, there’s a little cartoon bunny bouncing around in the back of my mind, purely to remind me of the serotonin boosts sleeping in the grass.
“Melanie?”
“Hmm?”
“At the wedding. It’s standard operating procedure, and it occurred to me while I was mowing that we’d probably end up dancing at that shindig since that’s what couples do.
” With his fingers still tangled in mine, he traps his—our—arms behind my back, so I’m cuffed and under the command of his whims. Then, dragging me closer, he places his left leg between mine until, if I were to lower just in inch…
a fraction of an inch, even, I’d be straddling his thigh and making poor, poor choices.
“I thought it would be important to, one, discuss whether this is something you want to do, and two, practice ahead of time. Couples in love have a way of understanding each other’s bodies.
They have a synchronicity strangers lack.
So if you want to sell this story in less than a week and convince that cocksucker you’re head over heels in love with me, then we really should practice. ”
“Um…” Eight. Hard. Muscles. Right there against my body. “Dancing…”
“I would lead.” And somehow, he does exactly that.
In my yard, in the middle of the day, with no music to work with, he leads me in a dance and grins because we move without agreeing to do so out loud.
“My mother taught me how to do it well, Princess. And God save me, she forced me to practice with my sisters.”
My face flames horrifically hot, but my eyes swing to his. “Really?”
“Much to my mortification. My mother insisted we possess these skills. A man must know how to cook.” He steps right, so I do, too.
And when he steps back, I follow. “Because it’s important he can not only hunt for his bride, but prepare a meal, too.
He must know how to dance. Because it’s like making love.
” His smile notches higher. “She didn’t say that part, but now that I’m older, I realize dancing is fucking, but it’s for public consumption and a true testament to pure feelings. ”
“Um…” My stomach jumps, and my nerves grow tenfold. If there was a cliff nearby, I would surely throw myself off the edge. “Fucking… hmm…”
He folds himself around me and buries his nose behind my ear. “A man must adore the woman he loves, and he must do it so well, no other could look in and doubt his intentions.”
Kill me. Now. Please, for the love of mercy, put me out of my misery and cut the nerve endings that pulse between my legs.
“You want to be escorted to this wedding by a man who loves, Princess. And frankly, I’m the only man fit for the job.
That’s why you chose me.” Pressing his hand to my hip and pushing me away, he leads me into a twirl that sends my inhibitions flying and my heart galloping, then tugs me back until our chests clash and my breath bursts free of my lungs.
Licking his lips, he hums his appreciation and tightens his grip around my back once more.
“We’ll practice this week, too,” he decides.
“We can dance while we do our two-hour thing, for expediency, or we can add dancing on top of the two hours. I don’t mind.
” Leaning in, he feathers a kiss against my cheek, right where he did last time.
“I have time to use and zero inclination to spend it on anything besides you. Also,” he steps away and releases me to stand on my own, making a beeline for my porch and glancing over his shoulder with a taunting smirk.
“You need to fix that overhang on your drawing.”
“What?” Dizzy. Lost. A tiny bit nauseous. I press a hand to my belly and stare at his rippling, muscular back. “What did you say?”
“As an architect, I understand your job is to make a building pretty. It’s about vanity and ego, and having the sexiest multistory in the city skyline and calling it your own.
But as a builder,” he grabs the door and challenges me with a look, “and a guy who works closely with engineers, I’m telling you to change that fuckin’ overhang. It’s shit.”