All for You (Paris Nights #1)(41)

Célie put her free hand on her hip, turning to face him and raising her eyebrows in laughing challenge. “You can dance the merengue now? Boy, they really do teach you guys everything in the Foreign Legion.”

She might be surprised by all the talents Legionnaires could produce in their down moments—art, dancing, guitar, piano. Hell, Captain Fontaine actually knew how to waltz, and Adjudant Valdez—Delesvaux—one Christmas had cooked them a dinner that would make a tough man cry.

But Célie, of course, thought he didn’t like to dance, because he’d refused all her sassy attempts to get him to as a teenager. He’d known better than to let his body get pressed up close to hers while she teased him. His attempts to stay her big brother substitute would have shattered like car windows when riots broke out in their old banlieue.

So he just smiled, which eased his tension. He could handle this crowd for her sake. It wasn’t a restful evening, but he’d had plenty of non-restful evenings, and she’d brought him here to share in her fun. “No, but I figure if I can do some of the things we did, I can manage to figure out how to wiggle my hips.”


She laughed, a rainbow shimmering of all that old saucy happiness of hers, and grabbed his hips, pulling him toward the dance space. “I’ll teach you.”

He smiled down at her, letting her position their hips close together. Sure, sweetheart. You want my hips to do something with yours? Feel free to grab them and pull them as hard as you want. “You teaching me how to wiggle my hips the way you like it sounds like a fun evening to me.”

She stilled just a second, gazing up at him. “I can’t get used to you flirting with me.”

“Well, that’s why we’re dating, isn’t it? So you can get used to it?” So he could get used to it? She’s not eighteen anymore. I’m not her substitute big brother. No holding back. Unless she says stop, I can go all out for her.

She flushed a little with vulnerable pleasure, and then caught herself and tried to cover it with that sauciness of hers. “All the times I tried to flirt with you and you acted as if flirting wasn’t even something that ever crossed your mind.” Her eyes narrowed.

“I was trying to be good,” he said apologetically. He hated to bring it up again, given how badly she had reacted so far to the fact that he had protected her from him until he grew big enough to deserve her.

She sighed despairingly. “Joss. What am I going to do with you?”

It sounded like a sincere question. As if she genuinely believed she needed to figure out how to pick up his twice bigger body and fit it onto the proper shelf or make him behave the right way.

He bit the inside of his lip to prevent a doubtless infuriating male grin and bent to whisper in her ear. “Maybe you should be wondering what I’m going to do with you.” Sliding a firm hand against the small of her back, he pulled her hips in snug against his, so that he could let his glad-to-be-alive dick just glory in that sensation.

She flushed crimson.

He laughed as the heat of her blush ran through him and twirled them around in complete inconsistency with the music, enjoying the power his size and fitness gave him over her body, enjoying the press of her hips to his and the way she allowed it and seemed to enjoy it, too.

Even if she was pretending to narrow her eyes at him.

They didn’t stay narrowed, though. As he set her on her feet and made an exaggerated attempt to rock his hips side to side like the nearest other couple, she started to laugh, too. She gave him a part of her happiness, with that laugh. He still wanted to take her happiness away from all this crowd of people where he could keep it safe, but at least it felt like something his.

“Like this.” She resisted the pressure of his hand in order to wiggle her own hips in a different rhythm than his, which slid their hips in opposite ways across each other deliciously.

So deliciously that he let himself be utterly incompetent at mastering this physical task for a little while, his hips shifting again and again just off rhythm of hers. The sliding grind was probably going to kill him, but it would be such a better way to go than all the other possibilities he was used to having to consider.

She couldn’t quite figure out whether he was doing it on purpose or not, checking his face. He tried to look helpless and clueless, not an expression he got to try out very often around anyone but her.

Her eyes narrowed. It made him laugh out loud, a reckless happiness bubbling up inside him. In the moment of laughter, his hips fell into the rhythm of the music, and he realized how much he’d been missing. Moving in sync was far better than moving out of it.

Oh, yeah. Just let him replace that side-to-side sync of their hips with a backward and forward motion and he would die happy.

“So you’re having a good time?” Célie’s eyes searched his. He turned their bodies yet again, so he could keep checking their surroundings.

“Mostly.” He let his hand slide down from the small of her back to the curve of her butt. Oh, yeah, that butt. Round and perky in his hand and begging to be squeezed. “It’s nice to meet your friends. And it’s a beautiful evening.”

“And … ?”

He grinned down at her. “And I’m really enjoying this merengue.”

“But … ?” Célie pushed. “You said ‘mostly.’ What are you not enjoying?”