Hardwood - K.M. Neuhold Page 0,20

arm, a glint in his eye as he tugs me toward the mass of dancing people. My stomach knots with nerves as we get closer to the dance floor. This may not have been the best idea I’ve ever had. We find a fairly open bit of floor near Mia and Jordy. Watson turns to face me with a grin, leaving enough space between us that we’re more dancing near each other rather than dancing with each other. My body doesn’t care much about the distinction as my heart speeds up and my palms sweat from nerves.

Watson starts to swing his hips to the beat, lifting his arms over his head and shimmying with his whole body, a carefree grin lighting up his expression as he gives in to the music.

“I thought you wanted to dance?” he calls over the music when I continue to stand stock still watching him.

“I thought I did too, but I’m starting to think I’m in over my head,” I confess, smiling wryly at what a good metaphor this is for my life in general.

“Come on, it’s not so hard,” he assures me, stepping closer and dropping his arms so he can grab me by the hips to guide my movements.

My stomach flutters, and my skin heats at the innocent contact. I do my best to loosen up and give in to the movements he’s encouraging, awkwardly holding my arms at my side and trying to follow the beat of the music.

“There you go,” he encourages as I find the rhythm. “Dancing is like sex, just try not to overthink it.”

I bark out a surprised laugh. “In my experience so far, sex has been more about a mental pep talk and then days of guilt afterward, but whatever you say.”

A brief flash of pity crosses his features, and I curse myself for making it weird. It only takes a second for Watson to recover his smile, leaning closer so he doesn’t have to shout so loudly over the music. “Well, it’s never too late.”

“For dancing or for good sex?” I joke, leaning in as well and accidentally brushing my cheek against his as I speak next to his ear. I can feel the rumble of his laugh and the puff of his breath against my skin. My cock hardens, and my hands twitch to reach out and touch him, to pull him against me and let him show me how to dance with his body instead of just his hands on my hips.

“Both,” he assures me.

“Thank god for that.”

We both laugh. The song changes, and I’m starting to get the hang of this dancing thing, at least the basics, but Watson doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to give me any space. His hands stay on my waist, but a few inches remain between our bodies. The scent of his cologne tickles my nose, a little spicy and just enough to make me want to press my nose into the side of his throat to see if I can catch more of it.

My arms are still at my sides, and I’m just on the verge of working up the nerve to put them around Watson in some way, draw him closer, when he drops his hands from my hips and spins around to face the other direction. He turns his head to look at me over his shoulder, smiling and shaking his ass.

“You’re getting the hang of it.”

Nope, I’m going to need a little more hands-on teaching. The flirtatious words are on the tip of my tongue, but they don’t make it past my lips.

We dance for a few more songs before all four of us make our way back to our table to catch our breath.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” I joke.

“You weren’t so bad,” Watson assures me, and Jordy snorts a laugh, completely undermining his friend’s attempt at sparing my ego.

“I guess I’ll have to cross a career as a backup dancer off of my bucket list,” I lament.

“I would,” Mia agrees, and everyone laughs.

We spend a few more hours chatting and enjoying the night, and Watson even drags me back to the dance floor one last time, which I’m almost positive Mia and Jordy film to laugh at later.

It’s cool and quiet when we finally step outside, at least in contrast to the inside of the bar. All the dancing didn’t help either. My t-shirt sticks to my sweaty back. I take my hat off and run my hand through my hair