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I’m scrutinized by that stare before she cranes her neck toward the pool. Carrie and the other girls sit with their feet dangling in the glowing turquoise water, and I’m immensely grateful Koa is nowhere to be seen.
Those brown eyes flick back up to mine. “All right, then. Let’s dance.”
I haven’t danced a day in my life, but I’m helpless. Completely, utterly helpless, exhausting ways to get her to come back to me. So when she cuffs her hand around my wrist and drags me after her, I follow willingly.
The lights beneath the dance floor flash purple, blue, green, and yellow as she pulls me into a sea of bodies. We’re bumped and pushed until we reach the center, where we’re cocooned by the masses, hidden away from the rest of the world.
Penelope closes her eyes, instantly losing herself in the rhythm. Her hips swirl and her head bobs, and she’s effortless, elegant, and I’m… nervous as hell that I’m going to mess this up.
Grabbing my fingers, she laughs while giving my arms a shake. “Why are you so stiff?”
Self-conscious, I glance around at the countless grinding bodies.
“I can’t dance,” I admit above the noise.
Stepping in front of me, she places her hands on her hips and grins impishly, “You don’t say?”
The growl I give amplifies her amusement. “It’s not like I’ve had a lot of time to practice.”
“Tell you what. Since I’ve got a soft spot for the rhythmically challenged, I’ll give you a few pointers for free.” My brow jumps when she grabs the middle of my suit jacket. “But first, we’ve gotta loosen you up.”
I swallow, watching those nimble fingers work their way down to the last button, and a rush of air cools my abdomen when she fluffs both sides open. “I think this might take more than one song.”
She tuts, “Ooh. Now that’s gonna cost you.”
“Name your price.”
“Aww.” She pats my chest. “You can’t afford me, sugar.”
My groin tightens at those smirking, berry-colored lips.
The hell I can’t.
“Start with wiggling your hips a bit.”
I stare down at my crotch when she looks at me expectantly, and unsure what I’m supposed to do next, I thrust.
“No, no!” Clamping her hands on my hips, she laughs. “We don’t thrust, we sway.”
With her guidance, I do as she says, slowly moving my lower body. “There you go, that’s it.”
“Am I supposed to feel ridiculous?” I ask when she releases me.
“At first, maybe. But it’d probably be easier if you had someone leading you.” My heart nearly stops when Penelope gives me her back. “Here, let me have your hand.”
My shaky fingers grip the strip of skin peeking out between her top and shorts. Her braid swings like a pendulum from the top of her head down between her shoulder blades, and I’m a goner when she casts that impish look back at me.
“Just relax,” she says, laying her head on my chest and closing what few inches remained between us. “There aren’t any rules here. No right or wrong.”
That has to be her biggest lie yet, because when her eyes flutter closed and her ass grinds against me, everything about what we’re doing feels forbidden.
Feeling bold, I hook my forearm around her middle. My core contracts as we roll together fluidly, muscles bunching and burning as I follow her lead, and there’s no stopping the blood steadily pumping to my cock, pressing against the deep curve of her ass.
“See? You’re doing great,” she pants as I match her movements.
That proud smile strokes my insides like a beam of sunlight, soothing and invigorating at once, and I damn near shudder when she says, “You can move your hands, you know.”
I’m grateful she can’t feel them tremble as they eagerly move. A part of me I’ve suppressed for ages surges forward–a boy desperate for affection, starving for touch, who stands beside me now, reminding me what it was like to lose myself inside her.
