Chapter 8 Fletcher #2
“Yeah,” she sighs and sits back, her gaze drifting toward the dance floor. “I tend to get in my head a little too often, or at least that’s what my friends say. But this is exactly what I needed. It’s been way too long since I allowed myself to let loose and have fun.”
“Well you know what I think could make the night even better and help you let go even more?”
She glances back at me, arching a very sceptical brow. “Do I even want to know?”
“Yes, because it’s probably not what you’re thinking, though I wouldn’t complain if it was,” I offer with a sly shrug. “But no, what I’m actually thinking is you need to get out on that dance floor. You’ve seen my moves, now it’s only fair you show me some of yours.”
She lets out a loud, unimpressed laugh. “No way. Not happening.”
“Oh come on,” I press, leaning in close. “You just said you get stuck in your head too much. So why not? You know your friends would love it. Besides, I’m pretty sure there’s a killer dancer hiding in there, just waiting to bust a move.”
“And what makes you say that?” she asks, her face showing a flicker of annoyance. “Just because my mom is a professional dancer I must be one too?”
“No, that hadn’t crossed my mind at all,” I quickly assure her and sit up straight. “But I’ve seen you at work, and I’ve seen the way your body moves to the music when you think nobody is watching. Even tonight, it’s obvious you’re dying to give in, so come on, Holls. Just let go.”
She loudly sighs before pursing her lips. “You really are annoying, you know that right?”
“I know,” I grin and shrug. “But I’m also right... right?”
Instead of taking one of her usual small sips, she lifts the entire glass and downs the rest in a few large gulps.
“Don’t even think about saying ‘I told you so’ or something equally stupid, or I might just change my mind,” she warns, pushing herself out of her chair.
She confidently strides toward the dance floor, and I’m only a few steps behind. There’s not a chance in hell I’d miss this.
And just as I’d thought, she’s a natural.
Her body flows effortlessly to the beat as she joins her friends.
She’s shared her worries about being compared to her parents, and while I assume some of her grace and elegance was inherited from her mom, there’s no mistaking her own unique style as it clearly shines through her every move.
As much as I want to be close to her, I let her share this moment with her friends. Still, I linger nearby, telling myself it’s only to keep her safe from the creeps. The real reason? I can't tear my eyes off her, even If I’d wanted to.
I keep my space for a few songs, but my patience runs out. I weave through our friends and settle next to her, syncing my movements with hers. I half expect her to pull away or slip off the dance floor, but she does the opposite.
She leans in closer, her hand sliding onto my shoulder before tracing a slow, teasing path down my chest, giving me exactly what I've been dreaming about since we first met.
I refuse to push my luck, but surprisingly, she’s the one who gives more.
Her other hand lands on my chest before sliding back up my body.
The moment she pulls away, I ache for the missing warmth, but I have little time to worry, as her backside presses into my front, her body continuing to move with mine, our bodies swaying in perfect rhythm.
Every inch of contact sends a jolt through me, driving me absolutely wild. It’s obvious she’s the one in control, and she fucking knows it. Her body moves so effortlessly close, teasing and giving just enough to make me want more before pulling back every single time.
I’m growing hard, and I’m sure she feels my for her desire through my jeans, but that only seems to encourage her even more.
My brain is screaming to be careful, but I can’t help but lean into it for as long as she’ll allow.
This may be torture, but if this is the way I go, then fuck it, I’ll die a very happy man.
I do my best to remain a gentleman, and while I’d love to wrap my arms around her and pull her into me completely, I let her guide our movements and be the one in charge.
That’s not to say I’m a saint. As her hands rise into the air before resting them behind her on my shoulders, my fingers have a mind of their own as they trace a small path down her arm.
She turns to face me, and for a split second I brace myself to see regret written across her features. Instead, I’m met with the most breathtaking smile I’ve ever seen as my gaze travels down to her perfectly plump lips.
God, I long to know what they taste like, but I push that thought away. Unless she goes for it first, there’s no kissing allowed.
The song fades out, and just as I’m ready to keep this going, the spell breaks. She takes a step back, releasing a noticeable exhale.
“Sorry, but I told you so,” I joke as I offer her my most disarming smile. “I knew you were an amazing dancer.”
The intro to the next song starts to play and she takes another step back, her head shaking from side to side.
“Yeah, well, I’m glad you got to see it, because I’m officially retiring,” she says, as she reaches for Logan and Candice.
“Why?” I try to call after her, as she yanks her friends with her off the dance floor and toward the bathroom.
I’m not surprised I don’t get an answer, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting.
“Tough luck man,” Jaxon chuckles, his arm landing awkwardly around my shoulder, in what I assume is his way of comforting me. “For a second there, I thought maybe you were right and she did have a thing for you.”
My shoulders slump in defeat, because for a second there, so did I.