Chapter 10 #3
“You’re beautiful, you know. Way too good for Louis.”
The room seems to soften around the words. There’s no dramatic smile for Louis to see. Jakob says it as if it’s a simple fact he expects me to accept.
I stare up at him. “You don’t have to say things like that for this to work.”
“I’m not saying it for him.”
My heart gives one hard, aching beat.
Then he turns us smoothly around another couple, his hand guiding my waist before I can drift into their path. He steers me between bodies and trailing gowns, always placing himself between me and anyone who comes too close.
I should be thinking about Louis. The entire point of me smiling, leaning into Jakob, is to give my ex something bitter to swallow.
Instead, I’m thinking about the way Jakob keeps watching me. The strength in the arm around my back and the care beneath it. How easily he adjusts when I miss a step, never making me feel clumsy or foolish.
He turns me beneath his arm, and my dress flares around my legs. When I come back to him, he catches me securely and draws me against his chest, his face lowering near mine.
“You’re doing perfectly,” he whispers.
Something inside me melts.
We continue across the dance floor, gradually circling closer to the bridal table.
It takes me a moment to realize Jakob is doing it deliberately.
Each turn brings us nearer to Louis, close enough now that he has no choice but to see every touch, smile, and second Jakob keeps me wrapped in his attention.
Louis’s Omega whispers something to him, but he barely reacts. His eyes remain fixed on us, jaw set, champagne untouched in front of him.
Jakob follows my gaze, then dips his head beside my ear. “Let’s have some fun. Laugh for me.”
Before I can ask when, his mouth brushes the shell of my ear. His tongue traces one slow, deliberate stroke across my earlobe, and a startled laugh bursts out of me, breathless and completely real.
Jakob moves at the same moment, tipping me backward into a deep dip. His arm holds me securely as the lights tilt above me and the room spins into a blur of white flowers and dark suits.
From that angle, I see Louis perfectly.
He’s damn furious while his Omega tugs at his sleeve, but his attention is locked on me.
And I’m enjoying every bit of it.
Then Jakob brings me upright again slowly enough that my body slides close along his on the way up. By the time I’m standing, my hands are gripping his lapels and my face is inches from his. My lungs have forgotten how to work.
His gaze drops to my mouth, and the heat between us bursts. The jealousy, the performance, and even the crowded reception fall away until all I can concentrate on is his hand at my waist and the possibility hanging in the space between our lips.
“How did I do?” he asks, his voice rougher, deeper, sexier. I’m in so much trouble.
I glance toward Louis, whose expression could sour champagne, then return my attention to Jakob. “I’d say it worked. He looks like he’s trying to set you on fire with concentration alone.”
“Good.”
My pulse stumbles.
Jakob leads me into the next turn before I can answer, and I follow because it’s easier than admitting how much I’m enjoying myself.
Louis may be the one watching, but I’m no longer dancing for him.
When the song ends, Jakob guides me off the floor, his hand interlaced with mine, and I’m still floating, my legs strangely light beneath me.
No one has ever danced with me like that, as though every stumble was simply another move he knew how to catch.
I glance up at him. “So are you going to tell me you’re secretly some famous dancing blogger I should already know about? Because that was unfairly impressive.”
His mouth curves upward. “Nope, I’m the behind-the-scenes guy and like to keep it that way.”
“Professional lessons, then?”
“No.”
“Then how do you move like that?”
As we weave through the crowd, Jakob glances down at me. “My mom loved dancing, but my dad was never a fan. As I was quite tall for my age, I became her permanent practice partner at home.”
“That explains a lot.”
His mouth curves. “Mostly why I know how to keep a woman from stepping on me.”
“Oops.” I pinch my lips to the side, staring up at him.
“You recovered beautifully.”
By the time we get closer to Brody and Corey, my cheeks are hot and my pulse still hasn’t settled. “Bathroom. I’ll be back.”
Jakob smiles and I dart away. I lock myself in a stall, press my hands to my burning face, and ask the question I’ve been dodging all night.
Not whether this is fake or whether I deserve it.
But whether I’m brave enough to find out what happens if I’m experiencing real feelings.
Except, this is my first time with men who are treating me like I’m special, and most likely that’s all I’m feeling—wanted.
Lipstick fixed. Glasses pushed up. Out the door.
The corridor is packed, guests flowing between the bathrooms and the bar, and I’m weaving through when a shoulder blocks my path.
Louis, hemming me in by the bar with the crowd, and that cruel smile aimed at me.