Page 56 of Every Move You Make

“So what? Free yourself!” she hollers, swinging her arms and spinning around. “Let the music speak to your body!”

I can’t say no to her, especially when she’s like this. Playful. Joyful. Completely unbothered by those around us as she coaxes me to dive in head first.

We’re dancing separately, but together. My legs are wide as I squat, thrusting my hips in an upward motion. My head bobs along to the beat as she turnsher back to me, spreads her legs wide, and bends all the way over. Her barely-covered backside is only inches away from me when I place my hand on her hip and she gives me a little twerk.

Before I can settle her against me, she’s up and turned around—throwing her hands in the air and jumping like a fish out of water.

Unable to hold back my laughter, I join in and match her energy. Our drinks spill everywhere, but I don’t care. Not when the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen is shining brighter than the strobe lights and looking only at me. Not when she’s doing the Dougie during a Dua Lipa song. And not when she’s bent in half doing the Bernie Lean.

This girl lets it all go. She sheds every bad thought she’s ever had and flings it across the dance floor.

When the song changes, she takes a deep breath and shimmies her way into my arms.

“Atta girl,” I murmur in her ear, and she grinds against my thigh, her hands seeking purchase on my hips and mine on hers. “That’s it.” With her eyes on mine, I slide one hand up her back and press her closer to me so we’re chest-to-chest. The desire to rip this dress off and feel her skin against mine is a welcomed invasion.

I’ve been her personal trainer for two years, and I know her body, but Ineedto know it completely. I need to know what color her nipples are and if she shaves or leaves it thick down there. I need to know what her sweat tastes like and what she sounds like when I make her come.

The No Dating Clients rule was created because I was gaining an unsavory reputation. I never wanted anything serious with those people, but I needed to be serious about my business. But what if I’m now neglecting my heart? What if she’s the one? What if they are?

When I look up from our fused bodies, I catch Isaiah watching us like a hawk from the corner.You like to watch, Zay?Enjoy the show.

Turning my focus back on Robyn, I lean in to whisper, “Show me again how bad you are at kissing.” Her eyes light up and with no hesitation, she pulls me down and closes the gap.

Our dancing comes to a halt. Her lips are so soft and full, opening for my tongue to reunite with hers. I don’t give a damn that my dick is pressing against her, because the subtle push she gives back is all the confirmation I need to know she wants this too.

I open my eyes to find Isaiah exactly where he was before, torturing himself by watching me take what’s his. Without breaking eye contact, I slide one hand to her firm ass and pull her closer while the other cups the back of her head. I’m pleasantly surprised when she slips her hands into my back pockets and squeezes too. The little whimper she lets out is like gas on the fire burning inside me.

For a second, I pull away and press my forehead into hers. “God, you’re bad at kissing.” She giggles in response and a very simple part of me lights up with fireworks becauseI just made Robyn Cassidy happy. “I think we need to practice a lot more.”

She places one of her hands on the back of my head while the other presses to my chest. “Whatever you say, Coach.”

My grin meets hers. “Speaking of coaches… Isaiah is here. Don’t look now, but he’s watching us.” I don’t miss the way her breath catches and she stiffens.

But before she says anything, a Black woman with long, thin box braids and a short dress punches her in the shoulder. “I love you, you slut! Dance with me!”

1.Training Season - Chloé Caillet Mixby Chloé Caillet & Dua Lipa

Chapter 23

Prey

Isaiah

When Serwaa jerks Robyn out of Dell’s arms, I let out the breath I had lodged watching them grind together and makeout like ravenous teenagers. Not that I have experience with being a ravenous teenager, but I get the concept.

Serwaa’s been in the club for about an hour already. I saw her come in and get progressively drunker before she finally saw Robyn and pulled her away. But there’s a war inside me—one that simultaneously wants him to stop touching her and keep touching her.

Dell’s stands there shocked at Robyn’s abrupt removal and quickly turns his eyes on me, silently askingDo you know her?

I give him a tight nod to reassure him she’s safe in Serwaa’s tipsy hands. That’s when his demeanor switches back, his eyes going dark, and he stalks toward me as if to sayDon’t move a muscle.My body freezes under his attention. Apparently I’m not the kind of prey that fights or flights. When it comes to Dell Breaux, I’m the kind prey that rolls over and begs for a merciful death.

Crowding me against the wall, my hunter cages me in, his thick arms on either side of mine and his warm, sweet breath ghosts over my ear. That little bit of dark blonde beard scratchesso good. “You liked that, didn’t you?” he whispers, and the timbre of his voice sends a bolt of pleasure down my spine and my balls tense up.

All I can do is nod.

“You wish you could dance with her like that, don’t you?”

I nod again, embarrassed that he knows this about me. That he can see right through the facade I’ve created over years. He’s willfully rubbing my face in the fact that he can have her whenever and however he wants.

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