Unexpected Eva (Triple Trouble #3)(51)

“I don’t mind.”

“Think smooth as we move.”

“Like your pussy.”

My mouth drops open wide. “For the next sixty minutes, Mr. Black, I am your dance teacher, not your…”

We haven't discussed what I am. Lover, lady friend, non-girlfriend, fuck buddy?

“Girl. You’re my girl.” His deep eyes blaze down on me.

“Right, yes, I knew that.” My voice comes out slightly higher than expected.

I’m Knox Black’s girl. The most eligible bachelor in Scotland, and I’m his.

My heart does a nervous leap of joy.

I loosen my neck up from side to side. “Ready?”

“I have been for a while.”

He’s so cool and calm and I’m flapping like a baby bird.

“How long?” Without being specific, he knows what I’m asking. He didn’t answer me the first time I asked him on Friday evening.

“Two years. Everything changed for me two years ago.”

“Go on.”

“That’s all you need to know, Sunshine.” I crane my neck to meet his excessive height.

Being respectful, I don’t push and give him the space he desires. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.

His eyes hold steady.

“Thank you,” I say.

He raises his eyebrows with interest. “For?”

“Being respectful and not pursuing me when I was married.”

“Not my style, Sunshine. I did kind of fuck up the night of the Spring Fling Ball last year though. I shouldn’t have told you I wanted you. It was deeply inappropriate, and I crossed the line. You were married.”

Here we are crossing a new line—my dad and Lincoln.

We have to tell them.

“I forgive you. You made me feel special that evening, Knox. For the first time in what felt like a decade, someone saw me. You saw me. Maybe, deep down, you knew, or detected, I was unhappy.”

“I did.”

Knew it. I was wearing my unhappiness like a neon-colored flag—very difficult not to notice.

“For the record, I’m not that girl anymore. Ewan drama aside, I feel better than I have in months. I’m optimistic. I’ve accepted my past is my past. I will not let it shape my future. I’m not a bitter person and I will not allow my broken marriage with Ewan to dictate who I am now. You made me remember who I am. I am not the problem. I simply needed someone to remind me of who I once was—happy, carefree. Eva.”

“Dazzling and heartbreakingly beautiful.”

His words hula hoop around my heart.

“Let’s dance, Sunshine,” he says through a burning gaze.

“Alexa, play “Love Nwantinti” by CKay.”

The haunting vocals float through the air.

Without instruction, Knox begins confidently swaying his hips in time to the rich guitar strums. Mimicking his movements, I follow him.

When the sensual intro beat drops, he unclasps our hands.

Fascinated, not knowing where he plans on placing his hand, I bathe in his meticulous touch as he glides his fingers up my bare arm, then firmly, predatorily wraps his entire hand lightly around the back of my neck. Between us, I lay my free hand over his heart.

Instinctively, we hip sway together.

Never missing a stride, he matches me beat for beat and step for step. There’s no hesitation between our hip bumps. No second-guessing. In harmony, we move.

He’s an excellent dancer. Incredible, in fact.

Cheek to cheek, I nestle in, stealing the warmth of his body.

Subtle smooth steps and taps, we follow a repeated foot pattern back and forth. Wiggling my hips in time with his, his broad thigh traces my clit ring over and over.

If we shuffle together any longer, I may explode right here in the dance studio.

Urgent with need, he pulls me closer and lets out a low groan.

I’m mad with lust, taking anything he’ll give me.

Provocatively, his fingers wander into the waistband of my skin-tight jeans.

His heart beats wild and hard in his chest beneath my hand. I remove my hand between us, to relieve the ache to be even closer to him, and place it around his back, hooking my fingertips to the top of his shoulder.

Sealed chest to chest in liberating slow romantic rhythmic movements, we dance.

Never missing a beat, his masculine energy dominates me as he leads me around the dance studio. The close connection I feel is new, scary, and wonderful, and my hula-hooping heart spins faster.

As the mellow song swirls through the air, Knox’s knee nudges further in between my thighs. Pressing my hips with intention, he rubs my center against his leg. I jerk unexpectedly as a jolt of desire sparks. My whole body is now alive with unapologetic white-hot need.

The steps in kizomba are fluid and sensual. They’re not supposed to be that obvious, and he’s doing this on purpose.

Knox whispers in my ear, “How’s that pussy feeling?”

“Sooooo good.” I let out a breathy sigh against his ear.

The melodic African music continues to envelop us, connecting us as if the world could be on fire and neither of us would care.

With every touch, movement, and hip sway, I imagine myself dancing with Knox for the rest of my life.

He feels like my eternal partner.

All this time, he’s been so close. Always around.