I smiled innocently and shimmied a little dance. Sunny groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re starting with me.”
I grinned, making subtle dance movements as I glided toward him. “We’ll have to dance, babe.”
“Stop,” he said, his voice a little lower, less its usual dry harshness.
“I’m not doing anything to you,” I teased, turning my back to him before our chests could touch. I may have accidentally slapped him with my ponytail.
From behind me, he let out a ragged breath. I imagined him standing akimbo, glaring at the back of my head, exasperated with me as he often was.
“Don’t we need to practice dancing so we look like a romantically involved couple who’s touched before? It’s okay, you know? You’re not going to combust. I know I’m sizzling, but…Do you even know how to dance?”
Sunny was probably more awkward than I was at dancing.
I imagined him stiff and unyielding, needing someone to literally drag him onto the dance floor, and even then he might just, barely, rock back and forth and call it a success. I giggled at the thought of Sunny, so commanding and in control, being hilariously cumbersome and out of his element.
My giggles were quickly stifled when his hands landed on my waist, the sheer warmth of his touch burning through my shirt and branding my skin. My breath caught in my throat. My body stilled, but not in a statue sort of way, where every muscle tensed and warning bells sounded…but in a melting, pleasant, never-let-go-of-me way.
I had to actively tell myself not to make a sound, not to flutter my eyes, not to tilt my head back, not to arch into him, not to sink into his chest.
My heart was beating so wildly that I was certain Sunny could hear it, could feel my pulse pounding against his palms where his hold had tightened.
The heat from his body intensified like solar flares, telling me that he was mere inches from pressing against my back, quite possibly centimeters. I was heady and hot, my thoughts swimming and my legs thrumming. Oh, boy. I was in so much trouble.
His voice was deep, guttural, a rumble in my ear when he spoke. “You started with me…”
I swallowed. Oh, lord. He sounded like he was about to flip me onto a bed and plunge deep into my soul until I didn’t have a coherent thought left. And curses to my body because it was responding with a sudden clench, an unfathomable need. These damn wheels were getting lubricated. “Oops…”
“Is this the plan?”
I swallowed. “It-it should be. Don’t you think?” Damnit, why did I sound breathy? He shouldn’t know what he was doing to me. It wasn’t right, not when we were coworkers vying for the same promotion. Not when this was a dumb fantasy ending tomorrow.
“So we don’t look like a fake couple,” he clarified, his lips so close to my ear that I could almost feel them brush my skin.
“Exactly. Wouldn’t want to make it to the finish line and get caught.”
“Do you know how to dance?” He gently squeezed one side of my waist and I almost catapulted out of my skin. Who told him he could be this sexy?
“Dance? Yes? Dance well? No…”
He chuckled. “And you were making fun of me?”
I shrugged, only to have my right shoulder bump his chin. Oh, wow. He was standing so close. A shiver ran down my spine when he began to sway, taking my body with him. “I don’t think this is one of the dances…”
“Huh,” he grunted. “Thought couples danced like this at weddings?”
“Usually they face one another—”
He spun me, casting my breath right out of my lungs like some supernatural force. I, ungracefully, collided against him, chest to chest. A hard chest, yes, one that had probably formed with some type of exercise. Solid. Hot. Oh, my. Was I running a hand down his biceps and forearms? Yep. I remembered these carrying me.
Sunny’s biceps stretched against his T-shirt, and good lord, how was that simple flex so sexy? His hands were at my waist, like before, but now we were facing each other. His height enabled me to fixate on his throat, which was utterly mesmerizing when he swallowed. Enticing my tongue for a taste, maybe even to nip the rigid angle of his jaw.
His hand fell on the small of my back, a soft and pleasant sensation. His hand slipped even lower where my butt began to billow out from my back—because, yeah, I was thick right where I wanted to be—and a warm flutter eased up from my stomach. It was a whole other level of subtle touching, an entirely new layer of nerves that lit up and threatened to ignite.
Sunny leaned down and whispered, “Is this believable?”
I was staring at his lips and the flare of his nostrils, but mainly his mouth. This was a fleeting vacation fantasy disguised as fake dating to help a guy out, but I just wanted to kiss him.
I swallowed and nodded. “Very.” So much so that even I believed it.
The corner of his mouth curled up and my knees almost buckled. “Okay. Good.”
I’d never thought my grumpy, nerdy coworker could be so damn fine. Ugh. Like bite-my-lip kind of fine. Which had me thinking about all the places he could bite me. Which had me realizing that I wanted him to bite me.
My skin flushed and I took in a big breath, a giant heave. That inadvertently stretched my torso muscles, drawing his attention to my breasts. Even if it was a fleeting glance. He could bite there, too, if he wanted. Sunny was quick to look away, as uninterested as a guy could be. Well, hell. That hurt. But it was for the best. We weren’t here to get caught up in sultry moments and big mistakes.
It took a minute to realize that we were still swaying.
“How’s this?” he muttered.
“Better.” Ugh, nothing like being shown disinterest to halt the fantasy building in my head. My body followed suit. Shut that down.
“I don’t think your hands are supposed to be clenched into fists against my stomach?”
“Oh!” I relaxed my hands as they fell down. Oops! They didn’t need to fall that low. “Sorry,” I mumbled, fumbling to get my arms around his neck.
“Don’t strangle me, Bane.”
“Haha,” I said sarcastically.
