Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“He’s too old to play a twenty-something,” he reminds me.
“He’s Harrison Ford, Christian. He can do anything.”
He laughs and holds up his hands in surrender. “True. Don’t beat me up.”
“I’m not violent.” I sip my wine again. “It’ll be interesting to see where Disney takes this.”
He watches me thoughtfully and chews his dinner. When we’re finished, he gathers our plates and sets them in the sink, then opens his phone. Before I know it, Open Arms by Journey is playing through the speaker. He sets the cell on the kitchen counter, turns to me, and crooks his finger.
“Christian, I can’t dance.”
“Just come here,” he says and tilts his head in that adorable way he does when he’s trying to charm me into something. He did the same thing when he suggested going to the movies today. “Please.”
I stand and cross to him, and he takes my hand, kisses my knuckles, and assumes the proper slow dance position.
“No means no,” I remind him with a grin. His posture is ridiculously stellar. He’s tall, and his arms are firm. His grip is confident, one hand on the middle of my back, and the other holding my hand.
“Just look into my eyes.”
“I will break your feet.”
His lips twitch with humor. “I hope not, I’m learning how to ski, remember?”
“I’ve warned you.”
As Steve Perry’s smooth voice fills the air, Christian moves us around the room. His body moves effortlessly, swaying with the music, and I just feel ridiculous.
Stiff.
“Outside my comfort zone.” I bite my lip and look down.
“Up here,” he says softly. “Just look at me. What fun is life if we always live it in our comfort zones?”
“I’m dancing with a famous guy in my living room,” I remind him. “It’s a little intimidating.”
“I’m just a guy,” he says and moves just a bit closer to me, tightening his grip. My nipples pucker in anticipation of being pressed against his chest. “And no one is here but you and me, dancing to a pretty song.”
“It is pretty,” I concede. I can feel my body loosening now, moving with the music and drifting closer to him, lost in his eyes. “I haven’t bloodied your feet yet.”
“See? You’re doing great.” He kisses my forehead, and I feel myself softening more. My whole body is on high alert. My panties most likely soaked.
I like him. A lot.
“Not so bad, right?” he whispers against my forehead. He hasn’t lost his posture, he’s confident and steady.
“No, I can’t say that this sucks.” I feel his breath as he silently chuckles. “You’re good at leading.”
“You feel amazing,” he mutters, and I clench my eyes closed. God, I’m so attracted to him. I don’t think I’ve wanted anyone like this…ever. At least, not that I can remember.
Not that I can remember much of anything right now, as I stand here dancing in Christian’s arms.
It feels like we’re in a floaty bubble of lust and affection, and I don’t want the bubble to burst. Even though I know it will, I just want to enjoy it for what it is.
I want to be in the moment with this sexy, likeable man and worry about the rest later.
The song has changed twice, and now P!nk is crooning through the speakers.
“Did you put on only slow songs?” I ask him.
“Of course,” he says. “It’s not as much fun to dance like this to Metallica.”
I snort out a laugh and brace my forehead on his chest, then look up at him and glide my hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck, enjoying the way his hair feels between my fingers.
He closes his eyes as though he’s starved for touch, so I keep lightly scratching with my nails and let him silently sweep me around the room for three more songs.
Finally, I step into him and hug him close, the way I did at my house earlier.
“Thanks for the lesson.”
His hands are firm against my back. “You’re welcome. Maybe we should continue these lessons while I’m here.”
I grin. “I mean, it would be silly to not take advantage of a professional dancer living so close to me.”
“Exactly.” He pulls back and smiles down at me, then stares at my lips again, but he doesn’t kiss me.
He walks to the front door, slips on his shoes, and shoves his hands into his pockets.
“If I don’t leave now, I won’t leave.”
Don’t leave!
But it’s too soon. So, I nod as if it’s no big deal. “You probably have to get up early.”
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m so great.” And it’s completely true. “Sleep well, Christian.”
“See you tomorrow, Jenna.”
He winks and leaves, and I blow out a breath and fall onto the couch.
Holy shit, he’s potent.
Chapter Four
~Jenna~
“MAN, I BROUGHT A lot of crap up here over the past couple of weeks,” I mutter to myself as I stuff the last bag of my things into the back of my Toyota 4-Runner and pray that the door shuts.