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“Assume you’re being restrained around their bigotry.”
I latch onto his words. “You think?”
Émile moves closer until our chests are a breath apart. “I’m not afraid to touch you.” His fingers lightly dance over my cheek. “What are you comfortable with?”
“In front of them? Probably nothing. But …” I swallow and settle my hand on his chest. “It’s not because I’m afraid.”
“Nervous and embarrassed, then?”
I huff a laugh. “Exactly. Basically my natural state.”
“Well then, why don’t we settle for holding hands? It’s a very boyfriendly thing to do and because we’re both men it’ll be as scandalous as if we stripped off naked and dirty cowboy danced on a table.”
I cock my head. “Dirty cowboy danced?”
Émile swings his hand over his head like a lasso. “Like this. With you bent over in front of me.”
Holy fuck, now that’s an image. And while I’ve been way too distracted to check him out, with one sentence he’s put it in my brain, and I’m looking at him with a whole new appreciation. Dirty cowboy dancing with Émile—inprivate—actually sounds like the perfect way to end the night.
But … we have to get through the night first. And given past experiences, I’m not hopeful that after whatever is coming, he’ll want to see me again.
So, screw it. I’ll take whatever time I have to pretend to be boyfriends with someone so …charismatic.
I slide my hand into his. “I’m about as ready as I’ll ever be.”
His grip tightens around mine, then he boops me on the nose with his free hand. “Don’t worry, love, I’ve been preparing for this night my whole life.”
Chapter 5
Émile
Well, this is a direction I didn’t see my day going in. The only thing stopping me from cackling like a madman is the look on Christian’s face. Sickly, almost green. The hand I’m holding is getting clammy too, but I have no desire to let go. And not only because Christian is the kind of guy I’d immediately approach on the dance floor.
Hair short at the sides with a nest of brown curls on top, facial hair that’s longer than stubble, but not quite a beard, and a sneaky little nose ring. His hands are curiously large, fingers long and thick, and he’d look like the type of guy who doesn’t give a shit about anything, if it wasn’t for his eyes.
He’s broadcasting his vulnerability and uncertainty to anyone who sees him.
“You look like a kicked puppy.”
“What do you mean?”Dear god, the way his forehead crumples sweetly makes me weak.
I chuckle. “The vibe you’re radiating is like you’re walking to your execution.”
“I’m nervous.” His voice goes up a notch.
“I know, but we don’t wantthemto know that. You’re a highly successful actor with a highly successful boyfriend, remember? Now …” I finally release his hand to clasp his shoulders, loving the feel of muscle under my palms. “Think of something happy.”
He looks like he’s going to question me, but a second later, his eyes fall closed. That cute concentration line is still there, but after a moment it clears. “Okay.”
“Now think aboutwhythat makes you happy. Think about the last time you felt that way, think about how we’re going to walk out of the reception tonight feeling exactly like that.”
His face screws up again and I quickly jump in before he can.
“Because we will be. I’ll be the greatest date you’ve ever had. Whenever you feel nervous, I’ll do the talking, we’ll dance and act completely overjoyed to be in each other’s company and then once the night is over, I’ll loudly announce to anyone nearby that I need to get you home and under me.”
Christian’s eyes snap open. “Umm … maybe we should leave the last part out.” But as uncertain as he sounds, his lips twitch like he’s trying not to laugh.
“That will all depend on how they treat you.”
