Page 6 of The Spy
“I happen to know that you are a very skilled dancer. We've had many missions where we've had to dance. Come on, you're not going to sit this one out.”
"I'm drinking."
Tabs took my glass out of my hands turned it to where my lips had been, and downed the rest of it like the stubborn siren she was to me.
Did she do it on purpose? That tease, pulling at me, daring me to lose control and give in to my attraction.
Or she's fucking with you.
Her eyes went wide as the burn hit her. Then she placed my glass down and put out her hand. “What's your excuse now?”
Fucking hell. She was inviting me to touch her. My mind screamed, "Danger," and I had to try to shut her down fast. I frantically pulled on the mental escape hatch. “I'll only step on your feet.”
“I know for a fact you can avoid doing that. Don't be a fucking ball sack. Let's go.”
She grabbed my hand in hers, and I steeled myself for the jolt.
Maybe it was the scotch burning in my veins, but the spike of electricity didn't feel so bad. In fact, touching her felt so damn good I wanted to lean into it, accept it, make it part of me.
Tabatha's gaze pierced me, her knowing smile teasing me as though she saw inside my soul as she said, “Come on Gabriel, let's dance.”
I led her to the dance floor and we fell into a rhythm that was comfortable.
Too comfortable.
My feet moved before my brain could register what I was doing, and soon we were in step with the rhythm. I felt like I had when we used to go out on missions together for our unit—alive and carefree in the moment as our bodies followed the beat.
“What are you doing for your birthday tomorrow?” I wasn’t sure what made me ask. Maybe just to make conversation. Maybe so she wouldn't notice the way my body heated. I pulled my leash of control even tighter around me.
“Oh, I have big plans. Something that involves kicking my feet up. Relaxing. Eating myself stupid.”
“No hot date?” I asked through clenched teeth, wanting to kick myself immediately. Why the fuck had I asked that? The question had tripped off my tongue before I could even think about it.
But Tabatha just laughed, full bodied, with her head tossed back exposing a long, elegant neck. My gaze immediately homed in on the freckles extending from just behind her earlobe down her neck in a tempting little trail. “I usually spend it with Saff doing girly things, remember? But your sister is going on her honeymoon, so we'll celebrate when she's back. I kind of like the idea of some me time, though. Far away from the craziness of missions and your oh-so-familiar scowl.”
I bit back the pain and disappointment of her words, and the box in my pocket felt like it was burning a hole there. What the fuck was I doing with this thing anyway? She thought I was a scowling wanker.
You are a scowling wanker.
It was my go-to expression, whereas Tabatha’s was always sunny and open.
The other thing that was familiar was Tabatha's attempt to lead. I established control, firmly squeezing my hand that was at her waist. “I lead, remember?”
She pouted. “You always lead.”
“Well, it's easier, don't you think?”
“Over my dead body it's easier.” And then she whipped out of my hold at her waist by spinning out as she tugged me forward. I had no recourse but to follow as she spun me.
I frowned and stared at her. “Oh, butterfly. Always disregarding the rules.”
She replied with a mischievous smirk. "No, I love rules. Rules are great. Except when they're stupid.”
“Our little rule breaker.”
“Would you have me any other way?”
I smirked and muttered, “I’d make you more amenable to following commands. It would certainly make my life easier.”
