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I kick off my boots and sit on the ground. He presses his feet against the space below my ankles and spreads our legs.
I glare at him when he leans to the side to try and see past the apex of my shorts.
“Don’t be a dick.”
Chuckling, he grabs my hands and pulls me forward as he leans back, until my chest is touching the mat. I do the same for him after placing my feet against his shins and then try not to think about his head being so close to my crotch.
“No time like the present.” He climbs to his feet and offers me a hand, then connects his phone to a small Bluetooth speaker on top of the dusty, white mini fridge. He mutters a curse under his breath when it doesn’t immediately connect and goes over to fiddle with it while I practice my turns in the mirror.
I keep going until he fixes the music and stands behind me, eyes meeting mine in the mirror.
“You’re going to die from heat in this fleece,” he says quietly and smooths his hands over the fabric covering me to my wrists. “Are you wearing anything under it?”
“My sports bra,” I reply meekly, suddenly feeling way too hot under this material.
“So it’s basically the same thing you wore to dance this morning, without the sheer top over it?”
I nod and jerk back when he reaches for the bottom of it.
“Relax.” His tone is so soft and comforting. When he reaches for the hem of my pajama top again, I let him peel it over my head.
The song stops and a new one comes on.
“Taki Taki?” I question, my lips twitching.
He tears his eyes away from the swell of my breasts, hidden behind my black, satin feel sports bra. It’s my most comfortable one. I don’t have any pretty underwear. Not yet anyway.
“It’s just background noise,” he replies and we take our first positions. “Do you remember the moves?”
Nodding, I begin, turning towards him, catching myself when he pushes me away. We dance, screwing up the moves a couple of times but it’s funny. We start again over and over but we progress more than we did in class this morning.
We weave around each other’s bodies. Limbs twisting and dancing until we’re both drenched in sweat and breathless.
At one point he deviates and dances like an idiot just to make me laugh, he twists his feet in and out and swings his knees until I throw his shoe at him to get him to stop.
He’s fun. He’s a lot of fun.
“Can’t handle all this sexiness?” he asks, eyes alight with humor and something else. Not quite excitement but close enough to it.
He spins me out and then pulls me back in so I collide with his damp wife-beater.
Our eyes meet and my heart starts to pound in my head. I’m thirsty… but not for water.
He lets his eyes trail over my face and down my body, imprinting the image to memory as he draws a line down the center of my stomach with his index finger. I shiver in response and tingles pop all over my body. My thighs clench together and my womb burns with desire. Desire I’ve never felt. “Your abs are so tight.”
“Can we dance?” I ask, pushing his hand away. Sure, his touch and attentions are making me feel good, but really it’s hollow. He’ll fuck me, find his pleasure and deny it to everyone tomorrow, or tell them I’m shit, or easy. Either way I’m not about to fall for his pretty boy tricks.
Smiling, he wraps my arms around his neck. “Absolutely.”
“Carter,” I warn, stepping back. “Don’t.”
“Don’t?” He looks surprised. “Don’t what?”
“Make it about this.”
He scrapes his perfect teeth over his lower lip. “Make it about what?”
“Whatever it is you’re wanting. You don’t even like me.”
“I don’t know you,” he admits, pushing his brown hair back from his face. It’s damp from perspiration, so it stays back, and I didn’t think he could be any more attractive until now. “I want to kiss you though.”
“Why? Because you think I’m easy?”
“No,” he says around a chuckle. “Because I think you’re gorgeous.”
“Fine.” I raise my chin, daring him to approach. “Kiss me.”
“The moment left the dance floor, priss. Forget it.” He pads barefoot to his phone and checks the time. “One more round? Then I’ll take you home.”
“You don’t have to; I can walk back.”
“I don’t ditch for laziness, Scandal.” When he returns to me, at the moment he speaks my name, he cups my cheek with his hand and his thumb tugs on my lower lip. I’ve been touched there before but never like this, never so tenderly. I almost regret rejecting him. “One more time?”
I clear my throat and get back into position, hands around his neck as he restarts our chosen backing track. “One more time.”
