Page 100 of Forty, Flirty & F*cked

"I'm fine."

"You're Kung Fu-gripping your drink."

“I resent that. My grip is…average.”

She sobers. "He was an idiot, you know."

"Mac..."

"I mean it." She squeezes my hand. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who looks at you like..." She gestures subtly across the room.

I follow her gaze to find Connor watching me, his expression making my pulse skip. He's removed his suit jacket, sleeves rolled up in that way that should be illegal, and something about the way he moves through the crowd reminds me of that first dance lesson.

All controlled power and careful restraint.

All completely focused on me.

"Dance with me?" His voice is low as he reaches us.

"That's..." I swallow hard. “Awfully brave of you. And your toes. You’re no longer worried about me stepping on them.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” But his hand is already extended. "Why? Don’t you trust yourself enough by now?”

No. Yes. Maybe.

"One dance," I hear myself say.

His smile is worth every broken rule.

The music shifts to something slower as he leads me to the dance floor, his hand warm on my back. We move together likewe've been doing this forever, like our bodies remember every lesson, every touch, every moment of trust.

"You look beautiful," he murmurs.

"You look..." I gesture vaguely. "You."

"I look me?"

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?" His thumb traces circles on my hip. "Because from where I'm standing, you've been avoiding me since that night in the studio. Now, do you want to tell me why you’re avoiding me, or do you want me to guess?”

"Connor..."

“I mean, I’m an awfully good at regular puzzles. But the people puzzles…”

“Connor.”

“I’m listening.” He pulls me closer, and I smell his skin—some rich and smoky scent that makes me swallow. "Tell me. Whatever it is, whatever's making you pull away... tell me."

I open my mouth to confess everything.

About the marriage. About my fears. About how terrified I am of needing someone this much.

But before I can speak, Will's voice cuts through the music.

My ex’s arrival is its own special kind of intrusion that sends ice down my spine. Just the sound of his oily tone alone is enough to slice through the warm hum of the club like a knife.

“Ahhh, as expected,” he drawls from too close behind me. "Didn’t take you long to move on, did it?"

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