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When they finished, he cheered along with the others. But he shook his head when she crooked a finger at him.
“I don’t sing, Flykra.”
He expected her to stick out her bottom lip and pout. Mitchell should have known better. This was Hope. She simply shrugged and moved on. “Kung Fu Fighting” was next and he growled low in his throat when Alistair joined her for the song. In his mind, there was no reason for the man to put his hands on her, yet he did. Constantly.
When they finished, she didn’t sit by him but took a chair beside Erick. He frowned at her and she only blinked at him, adjusting her crown once more. Hell, the attention she paid it, the fucker should be made out of jewels, not plain paper and covered in a marker/crayon combination.
The beginning strains of the next song pierced the air and she squealed, jumping up, her crown slipping off until she stopped it again. Erick stood with her and the moment the man’s arm wrapped around her middle, Mitchell started to get up. With a curse, he sat fully in the loveseat, digging his feet into the floor. If he wasn’t willing to sing with her, what right did he have to stop her from having fun?
Zilch.
He tried so hard to keep that outlook but the song they had chosen was a slower one and Erick made a big deal about holding her close.
Mitchell’s jaw hurt so bad from clenching it, he figured he would be visiting his dentist as soon as he got home to fix whatever damage he was doing. It killed him a little bit every time he watched her press into Erick.
She fits me better because she is my Flykra.
After that song, she again sat beside Erick and they cheered on the others who got up to sing. Then Hope pointed at another song with Erick and he nodded.
Fuck it. He’d had enough. Mitchell stood and strode to pause in front of her, doing his damnedest to block her view of everyone else. “What song are we singing?” His muscles went taut in readiness. For what, he wasn’t sure, but he fucking wasn’t going to sit through one more song while another man danced and sang with his woman.
She slipped from the chair and stepped in front of him, facing away from those gathered. “I didn’t think you wanted to do this.”
Mitchell slid a hand around to settle upon her neck, partially to ground himself with her touch and partially—mostly—to make sure everyone knew she wasn’t available.
“I got tired of seeing you in another man’s arms.”
Her smile grew, even as she shook a finger at him. “You definitely have a way with words, Mitchell. They teach you that when you were playing all those big games?”
Settling his left hand on her hip, he swept her close. “I took a few classes.”
“I hope one of those classes was for the Hand Jive.”
“You know Grease?”
“By now, you shouldn’t be shocked by what I know, Mr. Anderson.” She sank her teeth into her lower lip and it was a move he wanted to repeat. “I’m a well-traveled woman. There are a lot of things I know.” A wink. “Let’s do it. Erick, give me some music so this man and I can dance.”
While he wasn’t Fred Astaire or, hell, not even John Travolta, Mitchell could dance. Something else Mr. Conner had insisted the boys learn. He’d taken Linc to lessons and included Mitchell and Tully as well. He’d insisted that dancing was something everyone should know how to do.
Mitchell wasn’t the only one up there who could dance. So could Hope, and he shouldn’t be surprised by that. All of her everyday motions were smooth and elegant—even while she was recovering from her knee injury—announcing to the world she was confident in her body and sure of how to move it.
By the end of the song, everyone was up making fools of themselves and having an incredible time. Spinning her out and bringing Hope in, he didn’t even hesitate. When she settled against his chest, her curves molding along his body—as they should be—he cupped the back of her head in one hand, fingers delving into her curls, holding her still, and he kissed her.
Inhaled her.
Devoured her.
Lost himself.
…
Short-circuited.
That’s what Hope’s brain did. She had no other explanation for what happened and why she hadn’t immediately pulled away from this man and his touch.
He was kissing her.
And not in the privacy of their shared room, but in front of everyone gathered by the fire.
Mitchell slid his tongue deep into her mouth and tangled it with hers. Her entire body vibrated with need and a craving for more. Before this man she had never experienced such intensity.
Not even the ex-fiancé had done so much to her with a kiss. And hell, she’d believed herself in love with that man.
