Page 12 of Baby for My Best Friend's Brother

It’s no wonder I feel clumsy around her.

“Step, together, step, touch!” the instructor calls out again.

Sophie’s hips shift with the beat, her sundress sways, drawing my attention back to her curves. She brushes against me, and my jeans grow painfully taught around the groin.

This is torture. The sweetest, most tempting torture I’ve ever experienced.

When the instructor tells us to dip, I tighten my hold on Sophie and lean her over my arm.

“Look at you.” she laughs. “You’re a natural.”

“I don’t know about that.” My voice is rough as a catch a hint of jasmine. “I’m just trying not to step on your toes.”

“You’re doing great.”

I raise us back upright. We make another turn. Our hands separate, then rejoin as we circle back. She stumbles slightly, laughing as she does, and I catch her by the waist. My fingers linger before sliding back into place.

Our eyes meet.

And everything shifts.

I lean forward. She meets me halfway. Our lips brush. It’s so light, it doesn’t draw attention from anyone else.

But it isn’t enough. Quickly looking over my shoulder, I dance her toward the corner and pull her behind a divider.

Our mouths come together in a crash. This kiss isn’t for the kids. It’s not for show. It’s not even careful.

It’s for me.

It’s for her.

Her mouth opens under mine, and the kiss deepens. She moans into my mouth as her hands slide up my chest. Mine tighten around her waist, digging into those sweet curves that have been torturing me since I first saw her.

Our tongues tangle as the heat of her body presses into mine. I groan as she moves closer, my cock pushing against her belly.

Fuck me, this kiss is something else. But it still isn’t enough. I want more. A lot more than I can take here behind this divider.

She presses against me, letting out the tiniest moan. My pulse rockets. Something dark and needy stirs below the surface. If I don’t step back now, I’ll take her right here. Right now.

We break apart slowly, our breaths coming in hard gasps.

Sophie’s eyes are glazed. Her lips kiss-swollen. She’s stunning.

“Cliff…” she breathes.

“Sophie,” I whisper.

Neither of us says anything more. But once we’ve caught our breaths, we return to the dance floor. I ignore the amused looks Winter and Slate send our way as we find our steps again.

By the time the instructor calls and end to the class, there isn’t a thought in my head or a feeling in my bones that doesn’t involve this woman.

“Wanna grab a drink?” I ask.

“I wish I could. Really,” she says, brushing a hand through her hair. “I have to organize all the bachelorette swag tonight. Every girl in the group sent something different, and I’m putting the gift bags together.”

I don’t want to leave her. Not yet.

“Need help?”

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