13. Beau
Beau
“ A bsolutely not.”
“Absolutely yes,” Anna countered.
She might be cute and bossy, but she was not getting away with this one. He was in his thirties, and he wouldn’t cave to peer pressure.
Beau crossed his arms over his chest, settling into a stance that said he was putting his foot down. “I’m not doing it.”
“Then I’ll just drag you around like a doll. This is my dream. My dream,” Anna repeated with all the seriousness of a tiger cub.
Okay, serious Anna was kinda hot. If he didn’t get a grip on himself soon, she’d overpower him. “Why do your dreams have to include close proximity to another person?”
“Because I grew up making Barbie and Ken kiss a lot,” Anna said as if her childhood role-playing had anything to do with the current subject.
Stand your ground, man. “How did I get involved in this Barbie-Ken drama?”
“You didn’t. You got involved with my drama, and now you’re seeing the pleasantly bright side of me you never knew about,” Anna said, propping a hand on her hip.
Why did she have to draw attention to her body? It was a weapon, and she was wielding it like a sword.
Beau rubbed a hand over his face. Why wouldn’t she just give it up? “I don’t want to dance.”
“But dancing with me is going to be fun. I promise we can laugh about it later.”
“Oh, there would be plenty of laughter. At my expense. And you don’t even care!”
Anna stepped closer and rested her hands on his crossed arms, lodging a breath in Beau’s throat.
Shoot. Now she was touching him. The alarms in his head were screaming “Mayday!”
“I do care,” she said, softly and tenderly, just inches away from him. “I also know you’ll overcome this struggle and come out stronger on the other side.”
Beau’s shoulders fell. “You’re acting like we’re going to battle or something.”
“Well, that’s how you’re acting too. This isn’t a big deal. One dance class. It’s two hours. ”
“Two hours! That’s a lot of dancing.”
“No, it’s not,” Anna said with a wave of her hand, dismissing his fears like she was swatting away a mosquito. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”
“Oh, so it’ll seem like ten minutes to you and an eternity to me.”
Anna rolled her eyes, but a pleased grin bloomed on her shiny lips.
Don’t look at her lips! Those are completely off-limits.
She rubbed her hands up his arms to rest on his biceps. His skin tingled in the wake of her touch, making it hard to concentrate on her words.
“Listen, I know I’m a lot. I know I ask for too much, and I get way too excited about everything. I’m only asking you to show up and go through the motions. You don’t have to do a lift or shake your behind.”
“That’s good news. You’ve erased all of my fears,” Beau deadpanned.
Her shoulders lifted, and that tentative grin spread to a full-blown megawatt smile. “Good. I aim to please. Now, let’s go dancing.”
Grabbing his arms, she uncrossed them and took his hand in hers, dragging him to the door of their hotel room and out into the hallway.
“I didn’t say yes,” Beau protested .
“You didn’t say no either. Stop talking and start walking.”
She slid into the elevator and rounded on him as soon as the doors closed them inside—alone.
Her hands were immediately on him. Brushing over his arms, gripping the tops of his shoulders, massaging the tight muscles. “You need to relax before we get there.”
“How am I supposed to relax when you’re touching me?” It was a legitimate question. Every nerve ending in his body fired at once when she touched him. If she didn’t get her hands off him soon, he was going to spontaneously combust.
“Why are you breathing so hard?” she asked.
“Because you’re touching me!”
Anna lifted her hands and held them up, showing her innocence. “Okay. I’ll stop. Just trying to help.”
Anna was definitely not helping. In fact, she was the subject of all his problems. His life would be one hundred times easier if he didn’t have to pretend he wasn’t entirely too affected by her mere presence.
Fifteen minutes later, he was resting his hands on Anna’s waist and contemplating all his life choices.
“Dancing is a team performance, but you’re not putting on a show for anyone else. You’re dancing for yourselves.”
The petite woman leading the class was probably in her late fifties with graying hair pulled up into a high, bouncy ponytail, and she radiated the same level of pep as a college cheerleader.
“I am not dancing for myself,” Beau whispered.
“You’re dancing for me. It’s very noble of you,” Anna whispered back.
Good grief, she was misinterpreting everything.
“The art of intimate dance is instinctual, but some can be taught. You must give in to your base desires.”
Beau’s grip tightened on Anna’s waist. “What did she say? What kind of dance is this?”
Anna’s eyes widened, and her nostrils flared slightly as her breaths picked up speed. “Um, I forgot about that. I just remembered it was a dance class that sounded fun.”
“Fun for a couple on their honeymoon!” Beau whisper-screamed.
Anna’s nose scrunched, and her eyes narrowed as she mouthed, “Sorry.”
Sorry? That was all she had to say for herself? He was a circus monkey being made to dance, and she was sorry .
“Men, keep your hands on your queen’s hips and pull her to you until you are touching each other from chest to thighs.”
“I can’t do this,” Beau said, frantic as the studio door moved farther and farther away. “I’m not doing that. ”
Anna stepped closer, leaving less than an inch of space between them. “Relax. We can fake it.”
“What is this?” the instructor asked at their side.
Beau glanced from the instructor to Anna. What was the question? His brain was in the process of a malfunction, and nothing made sense.
Anna rested a hand on Beau’s chest. “We’re first-time dancers, and he’s shy.”
Shy, scared, terrified—something like that.
The woman poked her slender finger at his shoulder and pinned him with her unwavering stare. “Hold her like you love her!”
No. No, no, no, no. Was it too late to make a run for it?
“It’s okay. Just give him a minute to get used to this,” Anna said in a sweet, neutral voice that would have made even him obey.
The instructor’s gaze could have pinned him to the wall. “I need you to get into it soon. We’re moving through these steps quickly.”
Beau stretched his neck from one side to the other, still holding Anna’s waist. “You don’t have to defend me.”
The instructor clapped her hands and shouted to be heard throughout the room. “Now, let’s get comfortable. I want you to slowly sway with your partner. Move as one from side to side, getting closer as you go.”
Great. Getting closer to Anna was as dangerous as getting closer to the sun. Beau closed his eyes and focused on evening his breaths.
Anna slid her arms from his chest over his shoulders to his back and her hips moved slowly beneath his hands.
“Is this okay?” she whispered against his ear.
“You better not tell anyone about this,” he said slowly.
She chuckled softly. “What happens in Freedom stays in Freedom.”
“No one would believe you,” Beau added.
“That’s one hundred percent true.”
Beau opened his eyes and promptly closed them after catching sight of the couple next to them rubbing against each other in wild movements. “We are not doing any of that.”
Anna laughed low in her throat and rested her forehead against his chest. She was doing a good job of making their movements casual instead of “intimate.”
“Just keep moving together,” the instructor said. “You’re becoming one.”
“I’m becoming nauseated,” Beau whispered.
Another laugh from Anna, and a new idea took shape. Maybe they could laugh through this like Anna had said earlier, instead of taking it seriously.
The music lowered as the instructor said, “Now, I want you to whisper sweet things into your partner's ear. ”
Beau leaned down to press his lips against Anna’s ear and turned on the deepest, sexiest voice he could muster as he whispered, “Fruity Pebbles.”
Anna’s laugh was instant, gaining them looks from the nearby couples.
“Shh. You’re making a scene,” he whispered, holding her closer. Man, her hair smelled amazing. The soft vanilla scent tingled in his nose.
When her laughter died, he tensed his jaw and leaned in again, brushing his nose against her temple, breathing in her intoxicating presence. Her breath hitched as he slowly whispered, “Belgian waffles.”
There it was again, her larger-than-life laughter that vibrated throughout his entire body. She relaxed against him, and their swaying became more natural—more fluid as they moved together in sync with the music.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, leaning back a fraction to look her in the eye. “She said to whisper sweet things.”
Anna bit her bottom lip, but her smile refused to be stopped. Man, she had a radiance about her that lit up the entire room.
“You want to hear something even sweeter?” he asked, baiting her to take him up on this stupid game that was keeping him from losing control and pressing his lips to hers .
“What?” she asked, breathy and full of wonder as she stared up at him as if he were her hero.
Beau tilted his head down to her ear once again, taking his time, building the tension as her breath spilled hot and tingling on his neck.
“Brownie sundae,” he whispered, low and rumbling against the shell of her ear.
Was he imagining things, or did she just shudder against him?
“That’s very, very sweet,” she whispered back, tilting her head up to press her soft cheek against the scruff of his jaw.
She fit perfectly in his arms now—somehow an extension of him as they swayed. How had he become so comfortable around her in so little time?
It wasn’t the dance. It was everything. Eating meals together, picking movies, and deciding on things to do in between the activities she’d already planned.
It was easy—too easy. Being near her was like getting a tattoo—painful at first, then decidedly awesome.
They moved on to actual dance moves, but Beau stopped complaining. Once Anna started laughing, he was able to let go of the nervous energy and have a good time.
Well, a very moderate good time. He didn’t touch her nearly as much as the instructor wanted, and despite the daggers she was trying to shoot at him from her eyeballs, he wasn’t going to touch all over Anna without her consent, and especially with an audience.
With her consent and in private quarters, they’d both be in trouble.
Anna spun toward him again, brushing his chest with her hand as she landed against him and giving him a smile that hinted she knew exactly what she was doing to him.
Her stare was too hot—too bold and wanting. He had to do something before this went too far.
Well, too far in public. This wasn’t the kind of relationship transformation that the world needed to witness. Maybe there wasn’t anything happening at all. Hopefully, his brain would rewire itself as soon as his hands were off her, and he’d remember why he wasn’t allowed to touch her.
When she leaned in, he whispered, “Cinnamon rolls.”
She laughed again, and that sound would forever be the music behind the highlight reel of his life. “Are you hungry?” she asked, still chuckling and smiling like she’d never had this much fun in her life.
“Starving,” Beau said as he spun her away from him.
When she twirled back toward him, he turned her and dipped her low, holding the dramatic pose just like the instructor showed them .
“We have just enough time to get a shower before our dinner reservations,” she said while parallel to the floor in his arms.
“What are we having?” He pulled her up from the dip.
Anna kept up the dance, but her gaze didn’t meet his.
Whatever it was, her avoidance said there was a good chance he wouldn’t like it.