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But spend a few minutes with her, and you realize she’s more than surface level.
Paige is odd but in an amusing, intriguing way. She’s capable of passion and compassion. Plus, she can probably kick the ass of most people in this bar. And I get the sense she’s holding secrets, past hurts, under the surface of her guileless hazel eyes.
“Do you dance?” She doesn’t look at me when she asks, her gaze skittering around to all the people swaying and moving along with the music.
Again, I err on the side of honesty. “Not usually.”
This earns me her stare. Paige watches me over the rim of her glass, smoothly swallowing the last bit of her second beer. She sets the empty cup down and slides off her stool, coming to stand practically in-between my spread knees.
“Is tonight a usual night?”
If she were any other girl, I’d swear that line was meant to be flirtatious. But with Paige, I can’t tell. She simply sounds curious.
And maybe it’s the fact that Iwanther to be flirting with me that I give in so easily.
“I guess not.”
That was the right answer. Paige’s face radiates joy, and she grabs my hand to pull me after her into the crowd. She settles on a tiny chunk of free dance floor, turning to face me. Letting go of my hand, she begins to move.
Watching Paige dance is like observing a pile of tinder catch fire. Slow, then all of a sudden, the whole of it is up in flames. Paige starts with her shoulders, simply tilting them back and forth. Then the movement spreads to her hips which sway and dip. When her arms raise in the air, all tension leaves her body, and she’s simply moving. As untamed as an open flame.
Even though I’m here with her on the floor, Paige is dancing for no one but herself. Her moves match the music’s beat, but this not in some seductive display. There are lots of girls around us who move with more skill and sensuality as their eyes skip between men in the room. They know what they want, and they’re actively looking for it.
Paige just wants to dance. I’m convinced that even if I’d turned her down, she would’ve come out here by herself. She’s not even looking at me. Instead, my partner has her eyes closed, one arm stretched high above her head, the other hand tangled in her hair, as she rocks and bounces to the music.
Like a moth, I’m drawn to her light, stepping in close enough to act as a reflection to her movements, but not so close that I restrict them. I let her have her space, and make sure that everyone else does the same.
A blare of the trombone has Paige’s eyelashes fluttering open. Seeing me directly in front of her, she wrinkles her nose in a grin. Both her hands reach out to clutch mine, our fingers twining, and then we’re moving together. First, it’s just a little game of push-pull, until I spin her like we’re swing dancing, and she laughs so light and joyful that I find myself grinning right along with her.
The songs begin to blend into each other, and I only notice the passage of time from the growing heat gathering under my skin, and from how much closer Paige and I work our way together. The first brush of her chest against mine lasts less than a second. So quick I doubt if it even occurred. But the next lasts longer, maybe three seconds, before Paige dances away. This happens over and over. A quick press of her body against mine in time with the beat of the music then gone almost as fast. She never gets too close. Just enough to let me know she’s there.
I think the teasing feel of her is going to drive me crazy.
The next time it happens, I don’t let her retreat. Instead, I free one of my hands so I can wrap my arm around her lower back. Holding her flush against me, I execute a low dip, as an excuse for my sudden possession of her body.
Paige laughs with joy and lets her head fall back. The smooth expanse of her throat is the color of whipped cream, and I fight the urge to lick the hollow at the base of her collar bone.
To do away with the temptation, I stand us both upright.
But I don’t let her go.
One hand holding hers, the other pressing into her spine to keep every curve of her lush body pressed against me, I keep us dancing.
Paige settles her free arm around the back of my neck, and I shiver at the caress of her hot breath dipping under the collar of my shirt. She leans in closer, practically burying her nose in my shoulder.
The top of her golden head sits level with my mouth, and I have the strange urge to tilt my chin down and press my lips into the silky mass. I hold back, barely, choosing to rest my cheek against her like she’s a pillow. The gesture still gives me a strong sense of intimacy, but it could be interpreted as friendly.
The more we move together, the hotter my skin becomes, until I’m worried I must be burning her. But Paige holds on to me just as tightly as I do her. The salty tang of sweat mixes with her coffee scent, and I want to drink her in.
Does she feel this need to consume me, too?
It’s better if she doesn’t.
At the moment I’m sure I’m about to release her waist, Paige tilts her head up to meet my eyes.
“You’re an amazing dancer!”
Her goofy smile breaks down what little resolve I had to separate us. Instead, I find myself leaning in closer.
