Page 40 of Stella's Christmas Rescue
“So, it’s like dancing?”
His brow furrows, “How so?”
“Moves, countermoves, but to a beat.”
He smiles and says, “I have an idea.” Then he sets up some dance music on his phone. “I think this might help.”
“But if I’m fighting with someone, I doubt there’ll be music playing.”
He laughs. “You never know. Come on.”
We scrap for a while longer, before I’m wiped out. I feel like one big bruise. I’m happy to see he seems winded, too. I even get him to flip once. I stretch my neck and ask, “How was that?”
“You’re learning fast. I’m impressed.”
“I think the music helps. It gets my head in the game.” I sway to the beat. “It’s a lot like dancing, but the moves aren’t choreographed.”
“I like the way you move,” he says. His eyes are on my hips, then he comes around and holds me from behind. I reach behind and hold onto the belt loops at his sides. This way, he moves with me.
“You can move like that, too, see?”
He chuckles, then growls, “I’ve never seen anyone move like you, Stella.” His fingers tickle as they slip into the waistband of my yoga pants.
“You’re doing it right now.” I giggle from the tickles.
Then, Jordan spins me around to face him. “You are the most graceful woman I have ever known. Even when you fall on your back, it’s like watching a cat.”
“They land on their feet. In fact, they’re kinda famous for it.” I take his hands, placing one on the small of my back, and holding the other. Then, I catch his eyes and sway. “Like this.”
“I told you, I’m not a dancer.”
“Everyone is a dancer, Jordan. Just step left, right. Follow me.”
He’s on beat for a minute, but then he loses it. “It’s just not how my body moves, Stella. My feet have an arrhythmia.”
I smile, then I wrap my arms around his neck, and he does the same just above my ass. “I know you have rhythm, Jordan.” My voice deepens to keep his attention. “I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it.”
His hands cradle my ass and pull me tight to him. He’s hard against my hip. “I could show you my rhythm again.”
“You could, but then we wouldn’t be practicing.”
“You don’t need any practice for that.” He leans down and kisses me. “You’re an expert.”
“Now, now, Sir.” I smirk up at him. “We were being serious for a minute there.”
“And I’ve run all out of serious.”
“Then, we should dance, because I’m tired of feeling like the only one here who is learning something.”
He laughs, then rolls his eyes. “I guess that’s fair. What do you want to teach me?”
“Well, given our height difference, I think…” I switch his music to Benny Goodman and say, “we should swing.”
He chuckles, “I’ve always been curious about the lifestyle.”
I smack his shoulder and gasp, “Jordan, you dirty boy! Now, come here.”
I take him into a simple pose, and we begin. He’s as clumsy on his feet as I am terrible at judo, but we muddle through. He does, however, enjoy swinging me around. “Okay, I admit it, this is kind of fun.”
