Page 34 of Fool Me

My thighs clench involuntarily. Why is it so dirty when he whispers deeply and gravely into my ear?

“Try to keep up.” I turn my head to face him and pat his chest placatingly.

His stubbled cheek dimples when he grins. “I moved to Houston, not L.A. And I was raised on western swing.” Our faces are so close all it would take is a stretch of my neck to press my lips to his again.

Cocky arrogance looks different on this Kane brother. It’s colored with a playfulness that’s less entitled, but more of a self-assured certainty in who he is. And damn, it’s hot.

Spinning out from under his arm, I give myself as much space as I can without hurting the story we’re supposed to be weaving. Grabbing his hand and trapping it between both of mine I walk backwards, dragging him toward the dance floor. “Better be ready to back that talk up.”

The moment his boot hits the beat-up wooden dance floor, he yanks me forward, catching me against his hard chest.

We’ve kissed, we’ve held hands, I’ve been pressed up against him before, but this is the closest we’ve been—my palms flat against his pecs, my hips fitted against his, our eyes locked. It’s intense.He’sintense.

I swallow, instantly more aware of the palpable current between us as the hand that’s holding the back of my neck brushes down my spine. His fingers sweep over the top of my ass, and my dress is too thin and too thick all at the same time.

The heat of the sticky bar seems to pulse around us, and the beat of the music picks up. Atlas’s palm curls around my waist, his other hand finding mine. I’m not ready for the distance between us when he spins me away. We move around each other, finding our space within the thrumming dance floor.

Atlas doesn’t hold back, leading us as the room spins around me, my skirt floating up with each turn. Every time we get close, it’s cut short by another twirl, or push. It’s infuriating and fun. By the time he’s pulling me back into his arms, I’m breathless and laughing so hard my cheeks hurt.

“I want to bottle that sound up.” He breathes, his heart pounding hard under my hand.

I can feel the blush on my cheeks, because who says that? It feels too real—dangerously close to something a real boyfriend would say. “You’re full of surprises, Doc.”

Atlas brushes a strand of hair away from my face. His fingers linger and a shiver races over my skin as he traces my jaw, tilting my chin up.

“Give me another dance?”

I lick my lips as the music shifts to something slower—a song for lovers. “After that, a girl can hardly say no.” My hands go to his shoulder, looping around and toying with the curled hair at the nape of his neck. His chocolate locks slip between my fingers, unfairly silky. “Where’d you learn to dance like that?”

“Aside from growing up here? My ex in Houston was a ballroom dancer.”

“Like, as a job?” I ask.

“No, as a very serious hobby. She was a dentist.”

He talks about her so casually, but there’s no malice or spite. It’s entirely unlike the way I feel about Canyon. “Why did you guys break up?”

He pauses for a beat, our easy steps faltering. “Lots of reasons. But it came down to one thing, I wanted to move, and she didn’t.”

“Were you two together long?”

“Five years.”

My thoughts must be written all over my face, but he recovers for me, chuckling warmly.

“We were one of those couples that looked like we had it all together, but in reality we were just really comfortable and too stubborn to quit.”

“And you think she felt the same? Or is she cursing your name to her girlfriends back in Texas?”

“I know she did—she was the one that ended things. Before I mentioned the move to her, I’d already made up my mind, and that told us both everything we’d been ignoring about our relationship.”

“Do you . . . um . . . have any regrets?” I have to push that last question out, not entirely sure why it’s hard to ask.

“About moving and the breakup? No, only that I neglected her without realizing it. She assured me it was two-sided, I just feel shitty about it.” He studies me like he’ll find the answer on my face.

“That’s because you’re a good guy.”

A deep groan vibrates in his throat. His nose wrinkles adorably like the wordgoodstinks as it hangs between us.

---