Page 45 of Love on the Run

Don’t look at her lips! Those are completely off-limits.

She rubbed her hands up his arms to rest on his biceps. His skin tingled in the wake of her touch, making it hard to concentrate on her words.

“Listen, I know I’m a lot. I know I ask for too much, and I get way too excited about everything. I’m only asking you to show up and go through the motions. You don’t have to do a lift or shake your behind.”

“That’s good news. You’ve erased all of my fears,” Beau deadpanned.

Her shoulders lifted, and that tentative grin spread to a full-blown megawatt smile. “Good. I aim to please. Now, let’s go dancing.”

Grabbing his arms, she uncrossed them and took his hand in hers, dragging him to the door of their hotel room and out into the hallway.

“I didn’t say yes,” Beau protested.

“You didn’t say no either. Stop talking and start walking.”

She slid into the elevator and rounded on him as soon as the doors closed them inside—alone.

Her hands were immediately on him. Brushing over his arms, gripping the tops of his shoulders, massaging the tight muscles. “You need to relax before we get there.”

“How am I supposed to relax when you’re touching me?” It was a legitimate question. Every nerve ending in his body fired at once when she touched him. If she didn’t get her hands off him soon, he was going to spontaneously combust.

“Why are you breathing so hard?” she asked.

“Because you’re touching me!”

Anna lifted her hands and held them up, showing her innocence. “Okay. I’ll stop. Just trying to help.”

Anna was definitely not helping. In fact, she was the subject of all his problems. His life would be one hundred times easier if he didn’t have to pretend he wasn’t entirely too affected by her mere presence.

Fifteen minutes later, he was resting his hands on Anna’s waist and contemplating all his life choices.

“Dancing is a team performance, but you’re not putting on a show for anyone else. You’re dancing for yourselves.”

The petite woman leading the class wasprobably in her late fifties with graying hair pulled up into a high, bouncy ponytail, and she radiated the same level of pep as a college cheerleader.

“I am not dancing for myself,” Beau whispered.

“You’re dancing for me. It’s very noble of you,” Anna whispered back.

Good grief, she was misinterpreting everything.

“The art of intimate dance is instinctual, but some can be taught. You must give in to your base desires.”

Beau’s grip tightened on Anna’s waist. “What did she say? What kind of dance is this?”

Anna’s eyes widened, and her nostrils flared slightly as her breaths picked up speed. “Um, I forgot about that. I just remembered it was a dance class that sounded fun.”

“Fun for a couple on their honeymoon!” Beau whisper-screamed.

Anna’s nose scrunched, and her eyes narrowed as she mouthed, “Sorry.”

Sorry? That was all she had to say for herself? He was a circus monkey being made to dance, and she wassorry.

“Men, keep your hands on your queen’s hips and pull her to you until you are touching each other from chest to thighs.”

“I can’t do this,” Beau said, frantic as the studio door moved farther and farther away. “I’m not doing that.”

Anna stepped closer, leaving less than an inch of space between them. “Relax. We can fake it.”

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