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"I like good movies. Don't care about the age."
"Me too. I like good movies, I mean."
I watch her for a moment, trying to gauge her mood, then rise and stride around the sofa to her. I offer her my hand, palm up. "Dance with me."
"Now? Here?"
"Yes, Calli, now. And here in the living room."
"Why?"
"You're here and I'm here and there's music." I wriggle my fingers. "Give it a go. Please."
She places her hand in mine.
I draw her closer, holding one palm on the small of her back and the other cupped around hers while I raise our joined hands. With my palm on her back, I urge her to move closer until our bodies are molded together, snug and intimate. Her body feels warm against mine, and we fit so well that I get a barmy idea in my head—that fate made us for each other, and we would've met one way or another even if I hadn't gone to that club and she hadn't mistaken me for a stripper.
"The last time we danced," I say, "you wore a bonnie green dress. You're even sexier now, wearing everyday clothes and smelling of soap and honey."
"It's my shampoo."
Lifting her off her feet, I twirl us in a circle.
As her feet touch down again, she swallows hard enough I can see it, and her gaze gravitates to mine. "Don't think this is regulation ballroom dancing."
"Forget regulations." I begin to sway my hips and shuffle my feet, encouraging her to do the same. "We're moving together, that's all. Casual, not formal."
Stiff and awkward, she shuffles along with me as we make our way around the open expanse of floor behind the sofa. Her feet bump into mine, and she tenses up.
"Relax," I say, aiming for a patient tone, though I can't erase the affection and humor from my expression or my voice. "I want to dance with you, nothing else."
"Nothing else?" One corner of her mouth crimps. "We've gone more than twenty-four hours without sex. How long can you hold out?"
I comb my fingers through her hair. "I like having you in my arms, with or without sex. So please, take that steel rod out of your spine and tell me what's bothering you."
"Sorry. Didn't mean to ruin the moment." She hauls in a deep breath and releases it little by little, though that doesn't seem to relax her at all. "Hard to melt steel, though."
"Close your eyes."
She stares at me like she's hunting for the secrets of the universe in my gaze. I wish I had the all-knowing ability to give her the answers she wants and seems to need, but I've never been a god. Might be nice if I could achieve omnipotence. Then I'd have the power to free her from thatbod ceannRade. But I don't have godlike insight or power, so I have no idea why dancing with me makes her so tense.
Sighing, Calli shuts her eyes and gives in to the rhythm of our movements, her muscles finally softening. Her lips curve up at the corners, just a touch, and I wonder if the soothing melody of the movie music has eased her anxiety.
I start to hum softly. Donnae mean to do it, but the music is so lovely that I find myself humming along with it.
Calli rests her cheek on my chest. Her entire body seems to melt into me as if she has, at last, let go of her worries—at least for the moment. I hold our hands to my heart, near her face. She barely seems to notice when we stop moving across the floor, our feet now stationary but our bodies moving as if we still glide over the wood beneath our feet. She nestles into me, slipping her hand out of mine so she can wrap her arms around me.
If I were really up myself, I might think dancing with me freed her from all her anxieties. But I'm not arrogant enough to believe that. I'm glad that she's more relaxed now, and I want her good mood to linger even after we separate our bodies.
I comb a hand through her hair again, keeping the touch feather-light and, I hope, soothing.
A breathy moan whispers out of her. "You're so nice."
"Nice?" I say with a hint of laughter in my voice. "Thought I was wicked."
"You are wicked, but you're also nice. And sweet. You're all of it."
"Don't spread that rumor, please. I have a reputation to maintain."
