Page 49 of Dancing Struggles


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He raises his head, and I know he’s going to kiss me properly, and—

I can’t.

One taste. A tiny taste, that’s what I had, and that’s enough to make me want to fly. I’ll be lost if he takes more.

“I can’t.”

“Kiss me?”

“Leave me alone.”

He sighs. “I wish I could.”

And the decision isn’t mine to make. He comes down again in a deceptively gentle kiss. But it melts bones and dissolves defenses. He tastes better than I remember, hotter, more sure,and his tongue meets mine and it’s pure gasoline to the fire within.

I want to sink down into him, kiss him harder, deeper, go to my knees and take him in my mouth.

For a sweet moment, I give over to it, let that wave take me. But then from somewhere, bells of warning clang in my head and I pull free, stumbling back.

“Leland, no.”

“No?”

“Never with you.”

And then I turn and run before I can change my mind.

Chapter Fourteen

Leland

Fuck.

Sarah running from me is not the reaction I expected or was hoping for. I take a few minutes and walk back slowly, my heart returning to normal, the hard-on deflating.

This woman can do things to me like no other has been able to before. Well, there was one, but I’ve buried her, because that time in Waterman Heights is one I’m never returning to. If that one young woman who caught me up in her complicated web of innocence and sinful sexuality, the unsure moments and complete openness is never going to be one I experience again, I’m not going to think of her, just the things we did.

The old spank bank never quite holds up to the experience.

And that small kiss, the start of a real kiss, of something I could take and run with, held promises just as heady as that woman.

Fuck again.

I don’t want to think about the past and not measuring up. I love sex. And I want to fuck Sarah senseless. I know that.

Every minute I spend with her, I want that more.

All of her pushing, running away, and harsh words. All those soft moments and vulnerabilities. Everything.

I want it.

All of it.

But when I make it back inside, she’s nowhere to be seen. Dakota sends me a long look, and I head to where they set up a bar and grab a bourbon. I need it if I’m going to keep from doing my head in while thinking about Sarah.

I take a sip of the bourbon, savoring the way it goes down, and wait, my eyes locked on Lawson heading in my direction. He pulls up a seat and takes a sip from his own glass.

“Things are going well here,” he says, indicating the party.

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