Page 20 of Fire Me Up
I slid my hands up his torso—making sure my thumbs brushed over his nipples, just to see if he’d react—and he did, stifling a gasp that went straight to my dick. “You’re good at this,” he said, voice tight. “Like, really good.”
“I practice a lot,” I said. “Usually with guys who don’t look like they could break me in half.”
He grinned, open and a little shy, like he had no idea what he was doing to me. “You want me to tone it down?”
I shook my head. “Fuck no.” I let my palms skim up his back, feeling the sweat and the shiver there, and he just heldon tighter, pulling me closer like he wanted to fuse us together. “You keep doing exactly what you’re doing.”
The music faded, and the DJ transitioned to something faster, but Gael didn’t let me go. If anything, he moved closer, mouth at my ear. We lost ourselves in the music for a while, in the way our bodies fit together. I’d always liked dancing, but it had never felt like this before, like the beat was welding us together.
“This is different than I expected,” he murmured after another few songs, when the music slowed.
I tried to keep it light. “What did you expect?”
He hesitated, then said, “To feel awkward. Out of place. Not… this.”
I nodded, understanding more than he realized. “Yeah. The first time is weird, but after that it’s mostly just—” I broke off, because his hand was on my hip and inching lower, fingertips slipping under the waistband of my jeans. My brain short-circuited.
I looked up and caught him staring, eyes dark and dialed in. I wanted to kiss him—really, really wanted to fuck him, right here, right now—but somehow I managed to restrain myself. I was supposed to be the responsible one, the guy who didn’t take advantage of confused baby gays and their boners.
Even if that boner was currently digging into my thigh and making it really goddamn difficult to think.
I pulled back just enough to put an inch between us. “You want to take a break? Get some air?”
He nodded, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, then winced. “Maybe I’ll call it a night. The shoulder is kind of hurting.”
Disappointment crashed through me, but I wasn’t about to convince an injured man to stay longer than necessary. I led him outside. The cool night air and relative silence felt surreal as Iturned to face him, watching as he tugged his T-shirt back on, wincing as his shoulder flexed.
My eyes dropped to the tattoo on his hand, the one that marked him as a bottom.
“You okay? Was this too much?”
His cheeks turned pink enough to see them even under the streetlights. “No. I really like dancing with you.”
“Again, then?”
“Obviously.” He leaned down and gave me a soft kiss on the lips before turning and walking away.
Chapter 7
Gael
Icouldn’t get enough of dancing with Dylan. Over the next week we fell into a rhythm: a salsa night that burned my calves in the best way, a line-dancing night where he laughed every time I missed a turn, and two more trips back to Under Colfax—my favorite. By the third night, my shoulder was moving easier, the winces rarer. By the fourth, I knew exactly how Dylan’s body would find mine when the bass dropped.
It was addictive and all-consuming, so when he invited me back to Under Colfax again, I ignored my sisters’ knowing looks and jumped at the chance. And I ignored Dylan’s warnings too, because no one would spend every night dancing with a guy he had no interest in dating.
So what if he didn’t seem to want to do anything but dance? Dancing with him was fucking amazing. It didn’t matter what the music was, just that he was there—his body against mine, fitting more perfectly than I could have imagined.
“Why don’t we go upstairs?” Dylan yelled over the music.
“Does the upstairs have music?” I asked.
“It’s more like a lounge. We’ll give your shoulder a rest so you don’t have to cut out early.”
Good thing it was dark so he couldn’t see my blush. If only he knew the truth about why I sometimes cut out early.
Sure, occasionally I still felt a little soreness in my shoulder, but it wasn’t enough to stop me from dancing with him. The only thing that ever stopped me was the very real threat of embarrassing myself in a sexual way.
Because I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to dance with him in private. Or to be naked, grinding against each other in a much more intimate way.
