Unforgettable (Cloverleigh Farms #5)(36)

“Good.”

I put the song on repeat and stood up, offering my hands. “Okay, now come here.”

He rose to his feet and took my hands, letting me pull him forward onto the empty dance floor. Just one overhead chandelier was lit, and I’d turned it down low. “Dark in here,” he said.

“I thought it might make you less self-conscious.”

He glanced around. “Are you sure we’re alone? I don’t want anyone to see this.”

“Yes. Okay now, you put your right hand on my back, and keep your left in mine.” I placed my left hand on his shoulder, leaving plenty of space between us.

“Got it.”

“Now just step to the rhythm of the song.”

He swayed me side to side, pretty stiffly, but on the beat, at least.

“Good.”

“We have now reached the top of my skill level.”

I laughed. “Now you’re going to turn me. Raise your left hand, and gently push me under the arch with your right. Keep my hand in yours.”

“That sounds complicated.”

“It’s not. And it will be nice and smooth because you’re so tall. I’ll be able to get under the arch without even ducking, and so will Sadie.”

He did as I asked. “Now what? You’re way out there.”

“Now bring me back.”

“How?”

“Raise the arch again, and turn your wrist a little.” I showed him what I meant. “That tells me where you want me to go.” A couple seconds later, I was back in his arms. “Perfect. See? It’s easy.”

“I don’t think I did that,” he said skeptically. “I think that was all you.”

“So you do it this time. Three motions—lift the arch, push me through, bring me back.”

He did it a few more times, each time a little more smoothly. “Hey, I think I’ve got it.”

“Congratulations. Now one more step.”

He groaned. “Don’t push it, Sawyer. One step might be all I can handle.”

“Listen, if you can strike out nineteen batters in a row, you can learn two dance steps.”

He stopped moving. “You remember that day?”

“Of course I remember that day. I’m pretty sure I cried when they gave you the standing ovation.”

“Did you really?” His arms slid further around my back, pulling me closer to him.

“Yes.” I swallowed hard. We were now hip to hip. “And later that night, we went to a party, and you kissed Jenna Holmes.”

“I did?”

I nodded, my palm moving from the shoulder of his jacket up the back of his neck. “I was so jealous.”

“You never showed it.”

“I couldn’t. I didn’t want to be just another girl to you.”

“You were never just another girl to me, April.”

“Because I never let on that I wanted you to kiss me.”

His head dipped lower, until his lips were just inches from mine. “I don’t even remember Jenna Jones.”

I smiled. “Jenna Holmes.”

“See? But I remember you always smelled like birthday cake. I remember the way you’d play with your hair while you did math problems. And I remember this one little skirt you had, the way it would ride up your thighs when you sat on your knees at the kitchen table.”

Forget about dancing. I couldn’t even feel my feet on the ground anymore. “Tyler?”

“Yeah.”

I slid my hand into his thick dark hair. “I want you to kiss me.”

“It’s about fucking time.” That cocky grin flashed for a fraction of a second, and then—finally—his lips were on mine.

The music continued to play, but I barely heard anything above the pounding of my heart. Tyler’s right arm tightened around my back, and his left hand moved to the back of my head. He opened his mouth wider and stroked between my lips with his tongue, sending a tingle straight between my legs. His hand gripped my ponytail and pulled my head back as his mouth traveled down my throat. “Your hair drives me crazy,” he growled.

“Pull the elastic out,” I urged. “Take it down.”

A few seconds later, my hair tumbled down around my shoulders, and he threaded his fingers through it, cradling my head in his hands as his mouth collided with mine once more. I looped my arms around his waist and pulled his torso against mine, feeling the bulge in his pants thick and hard against my abdomen.

Suddenly he broke off the kiss and rested his forehead on mine. His breathing was ragged. “Fuck, April. This is where I’m supposed to leave—alone. This is where I remind myself that I’m the good guy. This is where I should remember to do the right thing. However, this is also where I’m the bad guy who wants to rip your clothes off and make you come a thousand different ways.”

A breathless laugh escaped me. “A thousand? Really?”

“Really.”

Excitement and desire ricocheted through my body. “Tell me more about this bad guy.”

“He’s good with his hands.”

“Does he say dirty things?”

“Filthy things.”

“Does he take his time?”

He paused. “He will really try.”