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“Okay.”
“And make your dance frame.”
“My what?” He threw me a confused look.
“Your dance frame.” I held up my arms, pantomiming how I’d hold a female partner. “That’s what I like to call it. Engage the muscles and keep your frame strong, but don’t tense up or go stiff. Dancing is all about working hard but making it look effortless.”
He lifted his arms and mimicked me.
“Perfect. Now, keep your frame strong and your head up. Back straight. Good. And smile.” I bit down on a laugh. “I said smile, not bare your teeth like a lunatic.”
“I think smiling might be a bit beyond my skillset at this point.”
“Fine. Glare away but keep your head up and no counting. Ready?”
“No.”
“Too bad. And I’m not counting this time. Find the beat and follow along with it.”
“Beat? From what music?”
“From the music I’m gonna make with my face hole.”
Evan burst out laughing, losing his dancer’s pose as he turned to face me. “Your what?”
“My face hole.” Grinning, I pointed to my mouth. “Now, get ready.”
Still laughing, he resumed his pose.
It took a few minutes, but soon Evan was sweeping across the kitchen like he’d been born to dance.
“Do I have it?” he asked with a big smile when I stopped my music.
“You’ve got it. Now for the real test.” I waved him over. “Doing it with a partner.”
He rested his big, hot hand on my waist, and gripped the other.
“Wait. We need music for this. Hold that pose.” I let go of his hand and grabbed my phone off the counter. “Okay. Now find the beat and start when you’re ready. Just squeeze my waist so I know to start with you.”
He nodded, his eyes boring into mine.
Swallowing hard, I restarted the song and tried to focus on the steps and not on the way Evan was looking at me.
I loved dancing, and I’d done plenty of partnered dancing over the years. None of them had ever looked at me the way Evan was. The heat in his eyes, the intense desire on his face. I usually only saw that look when I was swinging around a pole or gyrating half naked to music.
By the time the song was fading out, my heart was racing, and not from the exertion of dancing.
“You’re a quick study,” I managed, unable to pull away from him, even though we’d stopped moving.
“You’re a good teacher,” he murmured, his eyes on my mouth.
“We should learn a routine or something for your sister’s wedding,” I blurted, needing to say something to stop the spiral of self-doubt I’d fallen into.
Evan had put the brakes on things after that first night in his car. We still messed around, usually on the way home from an event, but not every time. He also hadn’t made any indication that he wanted more.
The few times I’d tried to start something beyond playing with each other’s dicks, he’d rejected me.
I didn’t understand why. He’d told me he wanted me. He never had trouble getting hard around me, and he happily sat back while I did my thing and rocked his world.
