Molly giggled as Ben stood on her foot. Again. Some men were meant for dancing, like James, and Marcus. And Duncan.
Some men weren’t.
‘Now I can see why you never took me dancing when we dated,’ she whispered.
He glowered at her. ‘Who in their right mind would choose to go dancing?’
‘Err, me, for one. And loads of other people like me. Why do you think night clubs and dance studios exist? Oh and jazz clubs, party bars with dance floors, cocktail clubs with DJs…’
Whatever he’d been about to reply was interrupted by Natalie, who clapped her hands together to signal quiet.
‘We’re going to change things up now and try the rumba.’ Natalie gave her trademark shimmy, the fringes on her vivid purple dress – it was ballroom – jiggling wildly. ‘Rumba, of course, is the dance of luuuurve. And we’re not just talking about a dance with steps to music, we’re talking about a dance that tells a story of passion, of flirting, of longing.’
Ben exhaled heavily. ‘Jesus.’
Molly dug him in the ribs, but she had to fight hard not to smile. The dance lesson they were having in the HEA Towers ballroom was so not Ben, but it was pretty frigging adorable watching him try. For once the man who was so confident, so comfortable in his own skin, was clumsy and stiff.
‘So my dancing beauties, you need to listen hard to the professionals as they teach you how to connect with each other in this most intimate way,’ Natalie continued in her dramatically husky voice. ‘Remember, today is your last chance to work out if you and your partner have the sort of chemistry that makes you want to stick with them for the next two crucial weeks, or if you’d prefer to ditch and see if you can find that chemistry with someone new.’
If she ditched Ben, that someone could be Duncan. Of course it wasn’t guaranteed, because any potential new match had to be agreed by Felix and Stephanie, but if two people both wanted to be together, it was unlikely the show would stop them, considering the viewers were routing for couples to marry at the end of the four weeks.
It’s not okay that all I want to do is follow you into your room and kiss the living daylights out of you.
Ben’s words flooded back to her. She didn’t need a rumba to work out if she and Ben had chemistry. The bigger question was whether their chemistry was enough to make her want to give up the chance of being with Duncan. Maybe even of marrying Duncan.
Warm breath fluttered against her neck and she gave an involuntary shiver as Ben’s deep voice whispered in her ear. ‘If I have to impress my partner by my dancing, I’m fucked.’
Laughter burst out of her. ‘Are you going to factor in my dance skills before deciding whether to stick or ditch?’
He raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘Hardly. I’ve already made my decision.’
‘Oh?’ And damn if her heart didn’t jump, rattling against her ribs.
‘You know I have.’ He slid his hands into his pockets, expression deadly serious. ‘I told you. I want to earn the right to kiss you.’
Something inside her swelled, and kept on swelling until she felt it break free and fizz round her insides. It was more complex than happiness, than pleasure. Power, she realised. She was used to pleasing, to hoping the other person liked her and yes, maybe Ben had been right when he’d said she gave her love away too freely. That’s what happened when you wanted, really, really wanted, so much that it became a physical need, to be loved back.
Yet in admitting he wanted to kiss her, Ben had handed some of the power over to her. ‘If you learn to rumba, it would go a long way towards earning that kiss.’
His eyebrows flew upwards. ‘Are you toying with me?’
‘Of course not. I mean, if you don’t want to kiss me—’
‘Fine.’ He let out a huff of resignation. ‘You earned the right to keep me dangling on a string.’
‘Oh my God, you’re my puppet.’ She almost squealed at the thought of this big, brooding guy being at her beck and call. ‘This is going to be so much fun.’
He narrowed his eyes, like he was all hard-nosed, but she was starting to realise that wasn’t him. He might have dumped her, but he’d not done it as harshly, or as carelessly, as she’d first thought. And since they’d been on the show, he’d stuck up for her, protected her, even helped create a platform for one of her biggest passions, if she wanted to pursue it. Certainly that’s how it had felt last night during their camera chat with Natalie. Sure, he’d done his usual strong and silent act for most of the interview, but when it had come to talking about the stall, his words had sent a bolt of pride through her.
‘Trust me,’ he’d said, speaking directly to the camera. ‘Molly has a real flair for upcycling. She once made me a new jacket by using bits from the torn one I was going to throw out and another she bought at a charity shop. I still wear it.’
His comment had led Natalie to ask her if she did it for a living, and she’d not even needed to think of her answer. It had burst from her in a bubble of excitement, of anticipation and yes, of pride. ‘I don’t,’ she’d replied. ‘But I’m going to give it some serious thought.’
You’re more than a seller of car parts. It’s what Ben had been trying to tell her. For as long as she could remember, she’d been focussed on finding love, her self-worth resting on being part of a couple, but what if she didn’t need to be in a relationship to be happy? What if she could find that happiness another way?
‘Hey, where did you go?’
Guiltily she dragged her attention back to Ben. ‘Sorry.’ What were they talking about before she’d got so hugely, fascinatedly, sidetracked? ‘Err, I was imagining pulling your strings. You know, your puppet strings. Do you think I need some training? Because I’d hate to jerk on the wrong one by accident.’
‘You know exactly how to pull my strings.’
The rough edge to his voice sent heat scorching through her.
She was saved having to reply when the dance professional clapped to get their attention. ‘I can hear some of you wondering, what makes the rumba that we’re about to perform so sexy? Well, for me it’s all about the hip action, especially from the men.’
Molly sniggered and glanced up at Ben. ‘Do you think your hip action is going to be up to the task?’
His responding look held both amusement and heat. ‘If I remember correctly, you used to enjoy my hip action.’
Damn it. The hard flip in her lower belly confirmed her memories – there had been zero complaints from her in that area.
‘Gentlemen, I want you to walk slowly forward with the left foot, sashay to the side with the right, and then left again for the quick, quick steps.’ The dance pro gave a quick demo, making it look fluid and ridiculously easy. ‘Then you go backwards slowly with right, sashay with the left and then right again for the quick, quick steps. Ladies, you need to do the reverse.’
‘What the fuck,’ Ben said heavily, ‘is a sashay?’
She had to work hard to hide her grin. ‘Come on, you must remember that one. We did it,’ she checked her watch, ‘about an hour ago.’
‘If I remembered,’ he countered dryly, ‘I wouldn’t be asking.’
Was it wrong that she was enjoying his discomfort? ‘I can’t believe such an important piece of information passed you by. Here’s a big hint. Step, ball, step.’
‘Can I have the hint in English?’
Hands now on his hip, his tone had gone from dryly amused to mildly annoyed. Add in the fact his whole demeanour said awkward, and it was all too much for her. She started to laugh uncontrollably.
‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’
‘Well, yes.’ He scowled and she hiccupped out another laugh. ‘I meant I’m enjoying the dancing, not seeing you … err … flapping about like a fish out of water.’ Another laugh bubbled out. ‘Sorry.’ She tried to straighten her expression. ‘Aren’t you enjoying it?’
‘Definitely not.’ His gaze snagged hers and when a fond smile slid across his face, it caused a slow sizzle in the pit of her stomach. ‘But I’m enjoying you.’
* * *
The morning had been shite. Ben figured he’d put ballroom dancing lessons on his list of experiences never to be repeated. It would go right alongside breaking his arm, and roller skating, which had caused the aforementioned arm breaking.
The afternoon had been only marginally better, as it had involved heart-to-camera time – that was also going to go on the damn list once he was out of here – and watching back clips from the morning.
Bad enough that he’d looked like a total tool, his rumba dancing about as fluid as an unoiled robot. Excruciating that even Duncan in his too-tight pants had managed to appear more flexible than he had.
This evening though? Did it have possibilities? His gaze drifted to Molly, who was sitting beside him at the bar of the jazz club they’d all been ferried to. Her long red hair cascaded in waves down her back, and her sleek black off the shoulder dress displayed a sexy expanse of pale skin. He wondered if she’d ever looked more stunning.
‘Molly.’
Her gaze swung from the dance floor, where she’d been watching several of the couples displaying the moves they’d learnt today, to him. ‘Oooh, are you going to ask me to dance?’
His heart sank. Not only had he not been planning that, when he glanced at where Marcus was dancing like a pro, making even the usually tight-lipped Maya laugh, he knew even if he did ask her, he’d let her down out there. ‘I was going to ask whether this was our last night together?’
‘Oh.’ Her eyes dipped to her cocktail glass, and the margarita he’d persuaded her to buy because who counts calories on a night out? Apart from obsessive online personal trainers. ‘I don’t know.’
He had to work hard not to flinch. ‘You’ve not made up your mind yet?’
‘Even if I have, I don’t know if you have, so I can’t say for certain if we’ll still be matched together tomorrow.’
‘I told you, I want to stay with you.’ God, the thought of spending the next two weeks with anyone other than Molly. He’d have to escape over the wall.
‘I know that’s what you said, but…’ She sighed and bit into her lip. ‘Look, I don’t want to go over old ground, but let’s just say when it comes to knowing what’s in your head, I’ve made mistakes before.’
‘You know why I fucked things up last time we met. I was fucked up.’
‘And now I’m supposed to trust you? Just because you tell me to?’
‘No.’ He ran a finger down her bare arm, receiving a jolt of satisfaction when she shivered. ‘You’re supposed to trust this. The connection we still have.’
Would she have denied it? Admitted to it? He’d never know because their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the one person he didn’t want to be in the same room as, never mind within a few feet of.
‘You two not on the dance floor?’ Duncan smirked over at him, black shirt so tight it was almost bursting at the seams.
‘We will be.’
At his assertion, Molly’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Sparkling green dinner plates. ‘You’re really going to dance with me? Do that whole sashay thing, with all the hip action and everything?’
‘Hip action, foot movement. Everything,’ he confirmed, not having a clue how he was going to achieve it. ‘After we’ve finished our discussion.’ He glared pointedly at Duncan, making it totally obvious he should butt the hell out.
‘Hey, sorry for the interruption, mate, but I saw Moll watching us all dance, and I thought what a waste, because I know how much she loves it. I came to offer my services.’ Ignoring Ben, Duncan slipped his hand round Molly’s. ‘What do you reckon, babe? We can show this lot how the rumba is really done.’
Jealousy snarled and twisted in Ben’s gut like a wolf caught in a trap. It wasn’t just that Duncan was touching Molly, but that he was doing it with a familiarity that reminded him they had history together.
‘Err.’ Molly looked to him and Ben wanted to tell her to wake up and smell the roses. The man wasn’t worthy of holding her hand, never mind dancing with her. ‘Maybe in a bit?’
‘No problem, babe.’ Duncan gave Molly’s hand a quick kiss before letting it go. ‘Remember what we talked about before. Come and find me later before you make your decision.’
A heavy silence fell between them as they watched him saunter off. Ben knew if he was going to have any chance of convincing Molly to stick with him, it was time to talk.
‘I’m scared, too,’ he admitted quietly.
Her gaze darted to his. ‘Scared of what?’
‘Scared of this connection we have. Scared of trying again.’
She gave a little shake of her head. ‘I know why I’m scared. But why should you be?’
‘You think it was easy, ending our relationship that first time? Hurting you?’ Shit, opening himself up like this was hard. The words were in his head, but saying them out loud made them real, like he was yanking his insecurities out and serving them on a plate for her to laugh at. ‘I might feel in a much better place now, but history tells me there’s a chance I could fail you again.’ His heart was hammering so fast he had to take a few breaths to calm it. ‘Knowing that screws with my head like you wouldn’t believe.’ He nodded jerkily over to where Duncan was now pulling Jasmine onto the dance floor. ‘But knowing you’re thinking of ditching me to swop to him, screws with it even more.’
She looked at him curiously, but didn’t say anything so he forced himself to keep talking, to say more than he was comfortable admitting. ‘I hate that he calls you babe, that he knows your body like I do. That he’s had a year of dating you when I only had two months which I threw away, and these last two weeks which haven’t been nearly enough.’ He felt jumpy, like his emotions were fighting, punching his insides and leaving him feeling raw and unbalanced. ‘When you make your decision tomorrow morning, promise me you’ll remember what we had before the split. There’s nothing I want more than the chance to get that back. Build on it.’
Her eyes locked on his and he wished he could read her thoughts in them. ‘Thank you for saying all that. For being honest with me.’
‘Honesty is what you should expect,’ he told her tightly, fighting to keep his emotions on an even keel. ‘I’m sorry you don’t feel I was honest with you before.’ How damning to realise he’d not been, yet what could he have said? Stay away from me, I’m bad news. My ex died because she couldn’t talk to me. By the way, when can I see you again? He’d been too desperate for the slice of heaven she’d given him and yes, too selfish, to risk driving her away.
Silence descended again. It was less heavy than before, but hummed with an awareness that pulled at his muscles, leaving them taut.
‘So, umm, about the dancing.’ She slid him a look that held both challenge and a question.
Slipping off the stool, he held out his hand. ‘Be warned, we’re not doing that,’ he told her as he led her to the floor where Marcus and Maya were still sashaying the hell out of the music.
‘What are we doing then?’
He pulled her abruptly into his arms, resting a hand on her lower back to draw her closer so that every part of her was slotted against every part of him. And he meant every part. The soft curve of her breasts against the hard planes of his chest. The heat of her core, against his fast-growing erection.
‘This,’ he whispered as they started to sway to the music. ‘I’m going to use the opportunity as an excuse to touch you, to feel you pressed against me in case I don’t get the chance again.’ He eased back just enough to stare into her eyes. ‘Is that okay with you?’
She looked up at him from under her lashes. ‘Yes.’
Her head rested on his chest, and when he felt her body melt against him, his heart tripped.
They spent the rest of the evening dancing in the only way he knew how. The only way he wanted to dance with her, because sod the rumba, this was way more intimate. At one point he caught Duncan staring over at them, and he thought, fuck you, I’m the one holding her now. It was the only time his mind strayed from her.
When they finally climbed the stairs to their rooms, the air between them felt hot and sparky.
By the time they reached her door, he was a complicated mess of longing, fear and simmering hormones.
‘I probably shouldn’t admit this, but part of me wants to ask you in,’ she said quietly, a husk to her voice that did nothing to quieten the ache between his legs.
‘A big part of me wants to accept.’
She bit into her lip, a smile hovering. ‘Big, huh?’
Unable to resist, he pressed his hips to hers. ‘You know it.’ Her breath caught, and when she pressed her hips back, he groaned. ‘Don’t tempt a man who’s not had sex in way too long.’ Because he couldn’t not, he bent to kiss her, the press of his lips against hers too light, too brief, but if he sank any further, he knew he’d be lost. ‘I’m going while I still can. Goodnight, Molly.’
As he walked back along the corridor to his room, he wondered if he would ever get the chance to kiss her again. To kiss her like he wanted to kiss her.