“Yeah.”
The tempo was fast, and although he’d seemed a little stiff before, he melted into the music like it was nothing. Surprised but intrigued, I danced as well. I didn’t do this around other people often, but I did love dancing alone. With him, I could picture I was just in my garage, bopping out to the radio as I cataloged the inventory. His hands found my hips, and I could feel how hot his palms were through the fabric of my shirt.
My heart was beating so fast, but I didn’t try to stop as the music went on.
I didn’t push him away.
I enjoyed myself.
Our bodies played off of one another, and even when we stopped to get drinks and bar food, we were still in contact. Dralle’s hand on my lower back felt secure, accurate like he could guide me through the confusion and discomfort of the nightmares I’d had featuring him.
This was easy, simple.
When we got back to dancing, I wasn’t embarrassed that I now had a stain from mustard on my shirt, and he didn’t seem to see anything besides my lips and eyes.
I wanted to kiss him.
He seemed to know.
As he leaned in, I didn’t want to stop him.
I wanted to kiss him back.
So, I did.
Letting my eyes slide closed as we continued moving and dancing against each other, I kissed him and relaxed against his body. I could feel ripples of muscle beneath his shirt; his hands on my hips skimmed a little lower. We were in a crowd of people dancing and moving against each other, and yet we were also alone at this moment.
His lips tasted like the beer we shared, and his tongue moved against mine like a promise.
This man was pulling something out of me I never knew I possessed.
I needed more.