Chapter 29 #2
She drags us toward the dance floor where a surprising number of my classmates have gathered. Even some faculty members sway awkwardly near the edges, clearly calculating the professional risks of rhythm.
Mike raises an eyebrow at me. “You sure you want to?”
“We don’t have to,” I say quickly. “I know dancing wasn’t exactly?—”
But he’s already guiding me into the crowd, finding us a spot where the lights dim slightly. When he pulls me against him, his movements are controlled and confident. One hand settles low on my back while the other cradles mine.
“You’ve been holding out on me.” I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “You can actually dance.”
“Andy made me take lessons before her winter formal. She was going through an unfortunate phase.”
“You took your sister to her school dance?”
“She asked.” He shrugs, but fondness colors his voice. “I couldn’t let her go alone when she was rocking braces and that aggressive bob haircut.”
Another glimpse of Mike beyond the hockey star—protective brother, family man, someone who shows up. My chest tightens with an emotion I’m not ready to name.
The music slows, shifting to something sultry with a heavy bass line. More couples join us, creating a buffer of anonymity. Mike’s hand spreads wider on my back, fingertips grazing the edge of my zipper.
“You’re thinking very loudly,” he murmurs against my ear.
“Just wondering how I went from dreading this to actually enjoying myself.”
“My devastating good looks?”
“Your humility, obviously.”
His laugh rumbles through his chest where I’m pressed against him. The song gets slower, more intimate, and suddenly I’m hyperaware of every point where our bodies touch. His thigh brushes between mine as we move, and I almost gasp.
“Sophie.” His voice roughens. “You can’t make sounds like that in public.”
“I didn’t make any sound.”
“You were about to,” he says.
“That’s very presumptuous.”
“That’s very accurate. You’re trying very hard to maintain your composure.”
I smirk. “And you’re trying very hard to break it.”
“Guilty.” His lips graze my ear. “Is it working?”
Heat pools low in my belly, insistent and demanding. “You know it is.”
“Fair warning. This is just the warm-up for later.”
My breathing goes shallow. “For what exactly?”
“For when I peel this dress off, and then?—”
“Get a room!” Maine shouts from somewhere to our left.
The spell breaks. I step back, praying the low lighting hides my flushed face. Mike looks perfectly composed except for his eyes, which promise things that make my knees weak.
“Want some air?” I manage.
“Lead the way.”
We weave through the crowd toward the balcony doors. I catch Maya’s knowing smirk and Maine’s theatrical eyebrow waggle but can’t bring myself to care. The cool air hits my overheated skin like a blessing.
“That was…”
“Mean?” Mike supplies. “Unfair? Cruel and unusual?”
“I was going to say unexpected.”
He grins. “You can’t wear a dress like that and expect me to behave.”
“This is a perfectly professional dress!”
“Sophie, you could wear scrubs and a hairnet and I’d still want to?—”
“Sophie?”
We spring apart as Keiko pokes her head out. “They’re about to do the raffle!”
“Right. Yes. Coming.”
She disappears, but the moment has shattered. Neither of us moves.
“Sophie?” Mike says.
“Yeah?”
“Keeping my hands to myself for the rest of the night is going to be hard.”
“What if I don’t want you to?”
His groan is satisfying. “You can’t say things like that when we have to go back.”
I laugh and slap his arm playfully. “Consider it payback for the dance floor.”
We return to find the raffle in full swing. Prizes include a year’s supply of compression socks (“The gift that keeps on giving!” the MC announces), surgical scissors (“For all your cutting needs!”), and various branded stress balls.
None of the nurses in my group wins anything, although Maine wins a blood pressure cuff and immediately attempts to check everyone’s vitals with enthusiasm but zero technique.
“Can we return him?” I bury my face in Mike’s shoulder. “Is there a receipt?”
“No returns, no exchanges. Though if you want to trade for Rook…”
“Rook just asked Maya if she wanted to ‘examine his iambic pentameter.’”
“That’s actually sophisticated for him. He must have prepared.”
The evening winds down with speeches about the noble calling of nursing. Mike stands beside me, his hand resting on my lower back, thumb tracing maddening circles he definitely knows are slowly driving me insane.
“Before we wrap up,” the MC announces, “let’s have one more dance!”
The opening notes of “Wonderwall” fill the room.
I groan. “This song haunted every dance from middle school through college.”
“And now it’s stalking your graduate school mixer. Full circle of terrible.”
“I hate this song with the fire of a thousand suns.”
“Dance with me anyway.”
“Mike…”
But he’s already guiding me back to the floor, and resistance proves futile when he looks at me with his combination of heat and tenderness. This time he holds me closer from the start, apparently deciding propriety is overrated.
“People are watching,” I murmur, though I make no effort to create distance.
“Let them.”
“My professors are definitely watching and judging.”
“Good,” he says. “They should know you’re taken.”
The possessiveness in his voice warms me. “Is that what I am? Taken?”
“Do you want to be?”
The question hangs between us, heavier than he probably intended. I press closer instead of answering, melting into his solid warmth, letting the awful song wash over us.
“Sophie?”
“Hmm?”
“It’s time to go.”
I pull back to find his eyes dark with unmistakable intent, pupils blown wide. Whatever he sees in my face makes him grab my hand and navigate us toward the exit with single-minded purpose.
The second we’re outside, he spins me against the brick wall beside the entrance, his mouth crashing down on mine. This kiss is desperate and demanding, all tongues and teeth and the promises he’s been making all night.
My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. He groans into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me as his body cages mine against the wall, hard and firm and Mike.
“Car,” I gasp when we break for air. “Now.”
He doesn’t argue, just grabs my hand and practically drags me across the parking lot. The second we’re inside his car, he hauls me halfway across the console, resuming the kiss with increased fervor.
“Wait—” I manage. “Drive. Your place is closer.”
“Thank God.”
He starts the car one-handed, the other still tangled in my hair. I try to shift back to my seat, but he holds me for one more scorching kiss that tells me exactly where this night is heading.
“Safety first,” I say, breathless.
“Now she’s concerned about safety.”
But he releases me so I can buckle my seatbelt. His hand immediately finds my thigh once he’s navigating out of the parking lot, thumb stroking patterns that make coherent thought impossible.
“For the record,” he says as he pulls into his complex, “I enjoyed tonight.”
The sincerity in his voice makes my throat tight. “Mike…”
“But right now,” his eyes darken again, “I want to get you out of that dress.”
Heat floods through me. “What’s stopping you?”
He’s out of the car and opening my door before I can blink. His hand steadies me as I step out, but I can feel the barely-leashed control thrumming through him, and I know he’s going to put in a performance for the ages tonight.
The elevator ride to his floor crackles with anticipation. He stands behind me, not quite touching, but I feel the heat radiating from his body. When the doors open, he guides me out with fingers splayed low on my back.
His hands tremble slightly as he unlocks his door—that small tell of how affected he is makes me bold. The second we’re inside, I press him against the closed door and kiss him exactly how I’ve wanted to all night.
His response is immediate and enthusiastic, hands gripping my hips as he spins us so I’m the one against the door. The wood feels cool through my dress, a sharp contrast to the heat everywhere Mike touches me.
“You’ve been driving me crazy all night.” He kisses down my throat, teeth grazing my pulse point. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
“Show me,” I breathe.
And… he does.