Page 41 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

14

CLEMENTINE

Ihad seen Rhett work magic in the kitchen. Watched how he could turn the simplest ingredients into something extraordinary. But watching him on the dance floor was a revelation of an entirely different sort. He moved with the same fluid confidence he brought to cooking.

Didn’t dance, my ass.

His body responded to the music like he had been born to it. When he took my hand and led me onto the crowded floor, I had expected awkwardness, maybe some shuffling feet and apologetic grins. Instead, I found myself swept into something that felt effortless, natural.

It was impossible not to think about sex. The way he moved was pure sensuality. I was convinced he was one of those people that could control every single muscle in his body. When he managed to arch just one eyebrow, I suspected as much.

But he was like one of those dancers you watched in Vegas that could move like a snake. Every corded muscle under his absolute control.

It made me think about a certain other part of him. The control he wielded in the bedroom.

Shit. Get it together.

I was making myself wet just thinking about him naked and showing off all that muscle control. The club’s bass thrummed all around us. The vibration only made my current little problem more difficult to ignore. I wanted to writhe and rub against him like a cat in heat.

All I could focus on was how Rhett’s hand felt against the small of my back. The way he anticipated my movements before I even made them. The alcohol had loosened us both up. At least, it had loosened me up. I wasn’t drunk, but I wasn’t nervous.

“You’re full of surprises,” I said, having to lean close to his ear to be heard over the music. His cologne was spicy. When I smelled it before, I assumed it was some ingredient in the kitchen. Now I realized it was all him. Spicy and musky and dark.

Could you smell dark?

It was such an odd combination. And so damn good. Was it a natural scent? Or maybe it was pheromones.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he replied, his voice a velvety murmur against my ear.

A shiver raced down my spine. That voice could drop panties from a mile away.

I was about to do something stupid when I caught sight of the true entertainment for the evening. About ten feet away, Conroy was attempting what could generously be called dancing with Simone. It looked more like he was trying to wrestle an invisible opponent while she stood frozen in place staring at him. The poor man moved like he’d never heard music before in his life. His massive frame swayed awkwardly as he tried to find some semblance of rhythm. Every few seconds, he tried to reach for Simone’s hands. She looked like a deer caught in headlights.

I had to bite my lip to keep from bursting into laughter right there on the spot.

“Oh my God,” I whispered to Rhett, nodding toward the disaster unfolding nearby. “Look at them.”

Rhett followed my gaze and I felt his chest shake with suppressed laughter. Simone’s eyes were wide with what could only be described as panic. They darted around the room like she was calculating escape routes. I was certain she might bolt at any second. If she couldn’t get to a door, I had a feeling she might actually run straight through the sliding glass doors in her desperation to get away.

“We need to get closer,” Rhett said, mischief sparkling in his dark eyes. “This is too good to miss.”

He maneuvered us strategically across the dance floor, weaving between other couples until we had a perfect view of the trainwreck. Conroy had apparently decided that spinning was the key to success and was attempting to twirl Simone, but his timing was so off that she nearly stumbled into another couple. The look of mortification on her face was priceless.

“He’s going to give her whiplash,” I managed between giggles, trying to keep dancing while watching the show.

“Look at her face,” Rhett murmured back. “She’s plotting something.”

He was right. I could practically see the wheels turning in Simone’s head as she scanned the crowd. Her gaze landed on the bar, then the restrooms, then the exit. She was weighing her options, and from the increasingly desperate look in her eyes, she was about to make her move.

It happened faster than I expected. One moment Conroy was attempting some kind of one-armed dip and the next Simone had slipped from his grasp with surprising agility. She practically sprinted toward the exit, leaving Conroy standing in the middle of the dance floor like a statue.

The poor man just stood there staring after her retreating form with the most bewildered expression I had ever seen. Other dancers bumped into him as they moved around his motionless figure, but he didn’t seem to notice. He looked like his puppy just ran away from him.

That was when Rhett and I completely lost it. We tried to keep dancing, but it was hopeless. The laughter bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest. Conroy spotted us. His bewildered expression morphed into something distinctly sour as he realized we witnessed the entire debacle. If looks could kill, we would have been vaporized on the spot. He shot us a glare that could have curdled milk before stalking off toward the exit, presumably to chase after his escaped dance partner.

“Poor Simone,” I gasped. “She’s probably halfway back to the hotel by now.”

“Poor Conroy,” Rhett countered, though he was still grinning. “The man’s got it bad, but he has absolutely no idea what he’s doing.”