Page 1 of Slow Waltz
Slow Waltz
Rhys brushed past Silas and picked up the list of cruise ship events Silas had tossed on the cabin desk. There was a pile of schedules stacked there—neat now that they’d finally vacated the cabin long enough for the ship’s cleaning staff to do their magic.
They’d spent all of yesterday in Silas’s spacious cabin room, in bed. Or in the shower. Or bent over the breakfast table. Marathon sex had been an excellent way to cap several days of sheer terror. And it was a joy not to worry whether they’d live to see the next day. A true holiday, finally.
Rhys scanned the activities. There had to be something interesting to do besides spend the day by the pool. Or in bed again. “Do you know how to waltz?”
“Yes.” Silas leaned his ass against the edge of the breakfast table. An ancient fae with dark hair and amber eyes, he was entirely Rhys’s. That still gave him goose bumps if he thought about it too long.
“Why?” Silas asked.
“I never learned. And there’s a class. Well, a whole day’s program. Two lessons, then a dinner and a dance. But if you already—”
“Yes.”
That single word was so decisive it took Rhys a second to catch his breath. “Yes?”
Silas’s smile was slight but as brilliant as the noon sun. “Let’s take the class. A refresher never hurts.”
There was more to it than that. Rhys could almostfeelSilas’s amusement. “And?”
Silas pushed off the table. “It’s a good excuse to see you in a suit. Then peel you out if it.” He closed the distance between them and took the paper from Rhys’s hands. “Besides, I’ve been meaning to show you how well I can dance.” Silas scanned the sheet.
Elemental energy licked off Silas and coiled itself around Rhys. But it was the prickle of heat tracing down his spine that caused him to shudder. “Promise?” They were still several inches apart. Rhys stepped forward and slid his fingers through the belt loops of Silas’s dark blue pants and pulled him forward, crushing the piece of paper between them.
Silas wrapped his arms around Rhys. Those lips still held that sly smile.
Rhys wiped it off by kissing him and was rewarded by Silas’s deep moan. God, how he loved undoing Silas, making him want and beg. The hard line of Silas’s cock pressed against Rhys.
But when Silas broke the kiss, that grin was back. “What time is the lesson?”
It was Rhys’s turn to groan, partly from Silas pressing himself hard into Rhys, but mostly because the red digits of the alarm clock by the bed mocked him: 10:47. “Starts at eleven.”
Silas sucked Rhys’s earlobe, sending desire racing through every last one of his nerves.
“Bastard.” He spoke the word into Silas’s neck.
He felt more than heard the chuckle. “There’s time enough later to fuck you senseless. Though I’m surprised you haven’t tired of me yet.”
“Never.” Rhys slipped his fingers free from the loops of Silas’s pants. “I’m just sick of the inside of this cabin.”
“Oh, I agree.” Silas stepped back, and the rumpled schedule fell to the floor. “Shall we?” He nodded toward the door.
“After you.” It gave Rhys more time to enjoy the curve of Silas’s ass.
* * * *
They made their way to the New Orleans Lounge, a room that had more wood, black leather, and gleaming metal than any place not designed for sex should hold. A parquet dance floor sat in the middle of the space, surrounded by chairs and drink tables. All of them were empty. Wrought-iron decorations, reminiscent of Bourbon Street, hung on the walls, mimicking balconies. No plastic beads here, though.
A different kind of energy—cold and sharp—snaked along Rhys as he noticed their fellow passengers congregated at the opposite end of the room. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.” He hadn’t felt this uncomfortable since his first day on the ship. He knew none of these people. What would they make of him, of Silas?
Silas nudged him forward. “This is a fine idea. Brilliant, even.” There was no mistaking the laughter in his voice.
Because he couldn’t turn back, Rhys walked forward. Silas trailed just a step behind, probably to make sure Rhys didn’t run.
Seven people stood near the bar, two couples—a man and a woman each—a third man who looked to be the instructor, and two women, both of whom were probably old enough to be Rhys’s mother.
Had his mother still been alive.
