dance—and likely having her say no—I put a hand to her back and walk.
“Excuse us a minute,” I say to Lena. She bites her lip and raises her eyebrows, but I don’t stick around to see or hear anything else. Her familiar eyes are filled with far too much suspicion and intrigue for me to give her any time to start her sisterly interrogation.
“Where are we going?” Ruby asks as we make our way to the middle of the room. I don’t say anything, but rather, spin her to a stop in the middle of the dance floor and gently guide her body toward mine.
Which, fuck, her body. It’s warm and soft and feels so damn good that I’m kind of mad at myself for not starting here first. On the dance floor. With Ruby in my arms.
She balks a little, her face falling into a mix of confusion and fear, but she eventually settles with her hands resting lightly on my shoulders.
I sway to the music, much in the same way she was swaying on her own, and rest my hands on her hips. They feel hot and supple beneath my fingertips, and I swallow hard against the rush of longing that washes over me.
I want Ruby Rockford. I’ve wanted her for weeks at this point, but it hasn’t really hit me until now.
I want her badly.
Ruby
Cap’s hands feel strong and dangerous in their place on my hips as we move from side to side with the melody of Frank Sinatra.
And his big, muscular body feels good. Too damn good. I hate how much I’m enjoying it.
My mind is scattered into a million hows and whys and whats that I can barely focus on a single thought.
From the moment I looked at myself in the mirror after getting my hair and makeup done, I’ve been walking on the eggshells hatched by nerves and uncertainty.
Like, what in the actual hell is really going on here?
I’m at a family function with my boss, dressed in a way that invites attention, and currently and alarmingly, dancing in his arms.
What happened here that this suddenly feels very much like a date?
But this most certainly isn’t a date…right?
Cap stares down at me—I can feel the weight of his eyes as they roam my face—but I’m completely unable to return the gesture. I’m unable to meet his gaze.
More like you’re afraid you’re going to get a little too lost in those warm, inviting eyes of his…
I look everywhere else in the glamorous tent instead.
Up to the silken drapes and starry sky, over to the people gathered by the bar, into the face of a far-too-amused Lena, and back over to the other side of the room to count the flowers in the centerpieces.
I run the gamut like a circuit, but eventually, Cap grows tired of my less-than-stellar attention and squeezes his long-fingered, perfect hands on my hips.
I swallow thickly, knowing I can’t ignore him forever, and then brace myself—for what, I’m not sure—as I look up and into his eyes.
“Hey, there,” he says with the same goddamn smirk he used on me the day I met him. “Nice of you to finally join me.”
“What?” I mumble, and he laughs.
“With the way you weren’t looking directly at me, I was starting to wonder if I’d transformed into the sun, Rube.”
“Oh,” I mutter. “Right. Sorry. I’m just a little…” Fucking overwhelmed? At a loss for words? Confused?
“Out of sorts?” He tosses me a life vest via words, and all I can do is offer a half-shrug. “How about I not only lead this wonderful dance—” he squeezes my hips gently “—but the conversation too?”
For some strange reason, even though Caplin Hawkins should never be trusted to lead a conversation—Lord knows, he will inevitably lead it down dirty paths—I nod my agreement.
“I’ll start easy,” he says with a secret smirk. “What’s your favorite color?”
I crinkle my nose at the random question but answer it all the same. “White.”
“Your favorite fruit?”
“Mango.”
“Your favorite pizza topping?”
“Mushrooms and extra cheese.”
A soft laugh escapes his lungs. “That’s kind of weird…”
“Don’t be a snob,” I retort, and it only makes him grin down at me.
But the silence is brief as Cap proceeds to dive back into his twenty questions game.
“Favorite spot in the city?”
“Washington Square Park.”
He zings the questions like an auctioneer, and I find myself joining in on the game, trying to answer them just as quickly as they leave his lips.