Page 232 of Lessons in Cruelty

What fucking sorcery is this?

I hold on to his shoulder, cling to his hand, and do my best to ignore the way he holds onto my waist, but it’s all too much. My face is hot, my feet are a tangled mess, and I guess this is the right time to tell him⁠—

“I can’t dance!” I whisper-shout.

“Don’t worry, we’ll stick to a waltz.”

He turns, and it’s follow or be dragged.

These people dance like they breathe. Natural. Easy. Graceful. I’m stomping on his feet like a Riversider killing cockroaches.

“Bastian, please! I’ve got no idea how this shit works!”

He frowns, drawing me a little closer so he can duck his head and whisper in my ear. “You’ve never waltzed?”

“I’ve never fucking nothing’d!”

People are noticing. And I guess Professor Rooke hadn’t thought this through, because we’re almost dead center in the middle of the dance floor, couples surrounding us on all sides.

“Please! Just stop.” My hand grips his. “I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one night.”

He stops dancing, and we stare at each other for a moment, my neck aching how I crane it back to make eye contact.

His gaze darts left. Right. Then right back at me.

There’s a wicked curl to the side of his mouth as he grabs me around the waist with both hands.

“Fuck ‘em,” he says.

I’m briefly airborne until my ballet slippers land on top of his shiny dress shoes. He slides a hand to the small of my back, keeping me from falling off, and takes up my other hand with his.

His thumb finds that spot. The dimple above my tailbone. The spot that makes me tingle every time he touches it.

“Ready?”

For dancing? No.

For Bastian? Never.

I don’t dare breathe, balanced on Bastian’s feet in the middle of the dance floor as I am, but I manage a gritted smile.

“Seriously?”

He doesn’t seem to recognize the panic in my voice.

“Good. Follow my lead.”

Like I’ve ever had a choice with him.

His hands position me. His feet move mine. I’m a puppet, and everyone can see the strings.

He flows with the music, and somehow, I flow with him. And fuck, it feels amazing.

I surrender, my body completely under his control.

I’ve never felt this safe before. This enraptured. This…free.

Now I get what all the fuss is about. I don’t want the song to end. I’d be happy to spend the rest of my life twirling around in Bastian’s arms, his strong hand wrapped around mine, the scent of his body wash and cologne filling every breath as my body molds against his hard form.