Page 30 of Off Limits: The Firsts

“I can handle it just fine. And it’s not me people are going to be looking at, it’s you.”

“Me?” I say, but the word comes out in a whoosh of air when he stops and turns without warning, causing me to bump solidly against his chest.

“Yes. You.” His smile is a juxtaposition of shy and suggestive, and it tugs on so many things inside of me. Want. Need. Denial. Desire.

We’re standing in the middle of the empty dance floor, and all I can think about when he looks down at me is that I need to remember to breathe.

Because chatting at a table is fine. Stretching his shoulder on the field, I can handle. But this, face-to-face on a dance floor with nothing between us, only serves to reinforce my epiphany in the truck earlier—I really like him.

And as if the universe is trying to cheer this mistake on, the music suddenly becomes louder and the lights become dimmer, prompting Easton to slide one hand against my lower back and lift my hand with his other.

Breathe, Scout.

And then he begins to move.

“Relax,” he murmurs against my ear as he guides us in a mismatched array of steps that make no sense and perfect sense all at the same time. But it’s not like I can concentrate on the movement with the heat of his body against mine, familiar and so very different.

It’s his tutelage I’m under now. It’s not me working him or stretching him. It’s him guiding me. Commanding me. And the ripple of his muscles beneath his shirt is not for me to study this time around, but rather to feel. To react to. To want.

I’m normally one to avoid the spotlight, but Easton has just thrust me right into it. Attention shifts. Eyes observe. And there’s something about knowing we’re being watched that magnifies everything about the moment.

More specifically, everything about Easton.

The scent of his shampoo. The strength in his hand as it holds mine and the heat of his other splayed across my lower back. The vibration of his voice against my hair as he hums along with the Luke Bryan tune. The rhythm of his hips as they move against mine.

“You lied to me, Scout.”

The heat of his breath against the side of my face.

“About what?”

The sensitivity of my nipples as they rub ever so gently against the firmness of his chest.

“You damn well do know how to dance.”

I chuckle in response but don’t look up to meet his eyes because I don’t want him to stop whatever it is we’re doing. There’s something intimate about the moment that has me wanting to breathe him in a little more before it’s lost.

His reaction to my laughter is to press his hand against my back and pull me closer. “I was always taught lying comes with punishment.” His voice has a sing-song quality to it that only serves to draw me deeper under whatever spell he seems to be casting on my impenetrable shell.

“Punishment?” Somewhere deep down, the word awakens the parts of me curious about but inexperienced in anything of the nature, and I’m suddenly nervous.

And excited.

“Mm-hmm.” His voice sounds as seductive as his body feels against mine. “Something that causes you pain.”

I gulp over thoughts as my insides begin to heat up, and I’m well aware of the attention still turned our way.

And before I can take my next breath, Easton spins me out with a laugh until our arms are fully extended, fingertips barely still grasping each other, before pulling me back so I land solidly with a thud against his chest.

“See?” he says, prompting me to look up at him, the one thing I was telling myself not to do. And now that I have, I’m fully aware that our lips are only inches apart.

“See?” I laugh, trying to comprehend what I’m supposed to see when my body is still reeling from the feeling of our bodies colliding into each other and the mortification of being twirled in a public display.

“Being the center of attention.” His voice is barely a whisper, but I hear every word. “Dancing with me isn’t too painful of a punishment now, is it?”

Normally I would laugh at him—at his version of a punishment—but all I can think of is how much I want him to kiss me right now. With his lips right there. And our bodies like this.

Breathe, Scout.