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“Why would I flirt with her?”
“I’m not the kind of woman guys like you choose over women like her.” I stare at the tips of my boots, wishing I’d just kept my mouth shut. But Rowan respects honesty, and against my better judgment, I offer it. “My ex would shamelessly flirt with other women anytime we went out. I should have told him that it made me feel like I meant nothing to him. But then, he never truly loved me, so I guess it makes sense.”
He studies me seriously. “Do you think I’ve been unfaithful to you?”
“It wouldn’t be fair to ask you to be faithful to me.”
We’re not actually together, and we’ve never established any sort of exclusivity.
Still, this bleeding heart of mine insists that he belongs to me.
Lights flash and bounce across the bar, and the music thumps beneath our feet, but it’s all a blur in the background when Rowan cups my face.
He tilts my head back and roves those eyes over every curve of my mouth. “Do you want me to be?”
“I…” It’s impossible to think straight being this close to him.
“It’s a simple question, Molly,” he murmurs. “Do you want to share me or not?”
“No,” I say with conviction. “I won’t share you.”
His eyes linger, a smirk of satisfaction dancing on his lips. “You live in my home, dine at my table, and soon enough—when you’ve given up this silly belief that you don’t crave my touch—you’ll share my bed,” he whispers with doubtless desire. “I’ve made a promise to you. What reason do I have to stray?”
“All right, folks! Time to switch it up.” The DJ’s announcement booms through the bar. “Grab a partner, and let’s get to two steppin’.”
My hand’s in Rowan’s, pulling him toward the middle of the dance floor before his words can sweep me up in the threatening tide he’s become.
“I already told you I don’t dance, woman,” he drones, and he did. But the fact that he lets me pull him out here anyway puts a winning smile on my face.
“Two steppin’ is easy. I’ll show you.” I spin to face him, determined to prove him wrong. “Let me have your hands.”
Begrudgingly, he holds up both palms, and I position our arms.
“Good. Now, take two steps to your left, and then one step toward me.”
“This is silly,” he argues.
I grin up at him, matching his careful strides when he does as I’ve asked. “No, that was great! Now repeat those steps, and I’ll follow your lead.”
Rowan and I move around the outer edge of the dance floor as I help him practice. Taller than most of the guys here, and out of dress code, he sticks out like a sore thumb, but I don’t mind. In fact, I can’t stop laughing every time he misses a beat.
“I’ve never seen you smile this much,” he says. “I’ll have to let you torture me more often.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, pretty boy.”
A whisper of amusement tips his lips, but it falters when he stops us abruptly. “Why are they spinning around like that?”
Without looking, I know couples have already started twirling each other around the middle of the floor, and if we don’t move, we’re going to get trampled. “No, don’t stop?—”
A couple spins directly into us, bumping me and Rowan into the wall, hard. He catches me effortlessly, but it’s not long before we’re trapped behind a circle of swing-dancing couples.
“What the fuck is happening?” he asks, panicked, as we shuffle along the wall to the opening of the dance floor.
Laughter bubbles up my throat every time we try to make a break for it, but we’re blocked by never-ending strings of couples twirling and dipping—most of which are spewing cuss words at us.
“Get off the floor if you’re just gonna stand there,” a man barks at me.
“I’m tryin’!” I shout back, but Rowan’s furious exasperation only makes me laugh harder.
