I walked onto the dance floor with Everett McCabe's fingers twined in mine. I had every intention of shuffling in a slow, school dance style circle with him, like this really was my senior prom. I never thought he'd actually agree to dance with me. I couldn't imagine staid, conservative, uptight Rett McCabe being able to cut loose on the dance floor.
But then again, this evening was full of surprises. So it shouldn't have surprised me that he took me confidently into his arms and steered me across the dance floor.
But it did.
"Okay," I exhaled. "Now you're the one making me look good."
He grinned down at me. God, he was so freaking tall. How did a person grown that tall? He was like a graceful, sexy tree.
"I actually can't dance for shit," I confessed.
"Follow my lead." He pressed his hand against my back.
I didn't want to let on how good it felt to have it there. "I really don't have a choice, do I?"
He didn't answer. Instead he swept us around until we were at the very center of the small dance floor. A few scattered fifty-something executives shuffled around us with their sequin-bedecked wives. We were the only people our age out here. But for once, I didn't feel awkward. How could I, when Rett held me so close?
I closed my eyes and let him lead me.
The fabric of his trousers brushed between my legs as we swished in a circle. My breath came in short little gasps that had nothing to do with the exertion of dancing. "People are watching us," I said as he turned me in a skillful spin.
"That's because we are the best dancers on the floor."
"Actually, you're the best dancer on the floor. Is there anything you can’t do, Eagle Scout McCabe?"
His eyes flashed down at me. He didn't answer, but I knew what he was saying without him saying it. He was good at everything.
I knew how good he was.
Heat that had no business being there radiated outward from my core. I dragged my eyes away from his.
We're friends, I chanted to myself as I ignored the way his leg brushed my thigh as he moved me. That was just a one time thing. It's not happening again. It'll never happen again.
I squeezed my eyes shut, ignoring the way he seemed to know my body as well as I did, ignoring the skillful way he moved me.
We are just friends. We've known each other forever. He's my brother's friend. He's just familiar.
We're just using each other.
I settled back into that thought with a sigh of relief. "You're just using me to look good in front of your co-workers." I craned my neck up to whisper in his ear. "Show off."
"You want to use me now?" he murmured against my cheek.
I pulled back. His eyes looker darker than they had any right to be. I licked my lips. "I just might."
His lips caught mine. There was no other word for the way he laid claim to them. His kiss was slow, confident. In perfect control. He moved his thigh between my legs. My breath caught as he pressed upward.
I pulled away from the kiss and stared at him.
He couldn't have meant it.
He held my gaze, then pressed his hand into the small of my back as he lifted his knee.
He meant it.
I closed my eyes. Heat gathered at my center, then throbbed lower.
He pressed down harder at the base of my spin when I bore down on his thigh. I exhaled sharply.
"Everyone is watching," he whispered, then moved his thigh again. Up. Then down. Rubbing me.
"Jesus," I gasped. "Jesus, Rett!"
He pulled back, leaving me panting. "I'm going to take you home." His eyes looked different. He looked different. His voice dripped with heavy promise. "Come with me."
Everything I knew about myself screamed at me to reel it in. Dial it back. Smooth it over. Make nice.
But there was something so intoxicating about letting him tell me what to do. So freeing to let me lead me. There was such... power in giving in to him.
So when I opened my mouth, the word that came out was, "Yes."