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“So is this dance off happening or what?” I ask Carter.
He glances at Goran who has his arms around two of the girls. I’m pretty sure if he had three arms he’d be hugging all of them.
“I think he’s busy.”
“I’m going to dance anyway,” I tell him. “Want to join me?”
“I have a girlfriend,” he says, shifting awkwardly.
“I know,” I tell him. It’s sweet that he’s being careful. “That’s why I asked. I want to dance with someone who has no interest in anything but making some shapes.”
He smiles. “Okay, sounds good.”
“You could check with your girlfriend first,” I say, because if I was her I’d want to know.
He texts her. And he tells her I’m old, because I can read his messages over his shoulder. She tells him to go for it with a thumbs up.
Well okay then.
Pushing our way through the team, we make it to the dance floor, finding a space at the edge. The music is low and pumping, some club tune I don’t recognize. But my body does, it feels the beat and my pulse matches it.
Carter holds out his hand and I take it. He pulls me in and spins me out. I kind of totter because I’m wearing this stupid tight skirt.
“Wait a minute,” I tell him, taking off my shoes. I lose a couple of inches in height but damn does it feel better.
This time when he spins me I let the movement take over. My body becomes one with the music. I look at Eli, who’s holding a beer, his gaze on me. He’s leaning on one of those high tables, away from the rest of the team.
I turn myself to face him. Put my arms up and let my body undulate in time to the music. It’s sensual and sexy knowing I’m doing this just for him.
It’s like he’s the only man in the room. And I want him to know how much he affects me.
A pair of hands clasp my hips. I turn, expecting to see Carter there, but it’s a man I don’t know.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Before he has time to answer, Eli is storming toward us. My heart is hammering against my chest.
“My boyfriend,” I murmur, nodding my head at the most beautiful man in the room.
Grabby hands immediately lets go. “Sorry, my mistake.”
“Don’t touch women without asking,” I tell him. “It’s rude.”
“You okay?” Eli asks, eyeing the man who’s still behind me.
“You shouldn’t let your girlfriend dance alone,” Grabby tells him.
“My girlfriend does what she wants,” Eli says, his voice low. “It’s assholes like you who shouldn’t be touching her.”
“Yeah, well piss off.” Grabby turns and storms off. I look at Eli. His eyes are dark, his jaw tight, but he’s sensible enough not to look for a fight.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I didn’t ask him to touch me.”
“No need to be sorry. Not your fault. You should be able to dance if you want to without people touching you.”
“I thought it was Carter for a minute,” I tell him. Then I smile. “I just wanted to dance for you.”
“I liked it.” Eli’s voice is thick. Gritty. “You want to continue this at home?”
