Page 233 of Lessons in Cruelty

“Shall we take a spin?”

My eyes snap open, and he’s staring at me so intently my mouth goes dry. “What?”

He grasps my waist, slipping me off his feet, and steps back until both our arms are outstretched. Then he tugs me back, spinning me along his arm until my back thumps into the front of his body.

The shock does something to my nervous system.

I can’t breathe. I can’t move.

His arm wraps around my chest, our hands still clasped. And I’m frozen in place as a frantic violin sequence plays out around us. All the other dancers are lost in their steps, none of them looking at us.

Bastian slides his hand over my stomach, urging me closer, until our bodies are flush.

I can feel every part of him.

Every inch of him.

Because he’s hard under his tux. Rock hard.

In front of everyone. And knowing it is making my hands sweaty and my core ache. My nipples are hard under the silk, clearly visible if anyone were to look.

My body doesn’t care that this is wrong.

My body just wants.

And then he dips me, his other hand cradling the back of my head as he bends with me.

“Now that you’re not working for minimum wage anymore, you’ll have time to go for dance lessons,” he whispers, his eyes searching mine, a tiny smile playing on his lips.

A flash of fury makes it easy to snap out of the serotonin-induced haze he put me in.

“Are you kidding me?”

His smile says he’s not.

His smile says this is just the beginning of the things he’ll teach me.

I grab the front of his tux, hauling myself upright. I glance around, but now that the song’s over, the dancers are in a state of flux, either getting ready for the next song or leaving for refreshments.

His smile fades. “Miss Lee⁠—”

I slap his arm when he reaches for me and then charge off the dance floor in case someone pays too much attention. The last thing I need is anyone remembering that I basically told them to go fuck themselves.

Bastian catches up with me on the way to the restroom, snatching my arm.

I spin, jerking out of his grip. “Don’t touch me.”

“Can we please just talk?” he says, glancing past me at the row of ladies waiting in line for the bathroom, giving them a wan smile as he readjusts the urgency on his face. “Please, Haven.”

Screw it. I’ll go pee in the bushes like the trailer trash I am.

I storm past them, heading for a smaller doorway down the hall. When I realize Bastian’s right behind me, I turn and glare at him.

“Stop following me!”

He takes another two steps, and then halts.

I should feel relief, maybe even a hint of triumph. I just told Professor Rooke to stand down, and he listened to me.