I burst out giggling and then caught my breath, anxious for a moment. I didn’t want to discourage him from taking risks
But my reaction didn’t bruise his ego. Far from it, Tom scrambled to his feet, laughing right along with me. “Okay, I need a little work.”
“I’ll help you practice,” I teased him with a big grin. “It would be my pleasure.”
“It definitely will be,” Tom murmured, laying one broad palm against my cheek. He traced a fingertip down my neck to my collarbone, igniting a shiver of desire that swelled in my pants.
In the semi-darkness of the dance floor, I could finally enjoy Tom’s newfound confidence. And boy, did I ever. I loved that he was willing to be uncool.
I saw it in his confidence, in his willingness to let me talk him through complicated dance routines on the spot, learning and failing in front of other people, but laughing the whole time.
At last, Tom was the cool gay dad he’d always wanted to be. And more than that, he was the partner I’d always needed.
Like he anticipated my needs, he steered me off for a drink and made sure I didn’t tire myself out, but every time I asked him to go back to the dance floor, he said yes and held out a hand to lead me there.
“Okay, try a dip,” I giggled as Tom helped me spin back into him. I was doing most of the work for that particular move, but there was no need to tell him that. By now, he was leading me more often than not.
Tom gripped me around the back and lowered me, to cheers and applause nearby. The sudden noise threw him off his game; I instantly felt him leaning toward me, throwing his own center of gravity off-balance.
I caught my breath as the adrenaline rushed to my head. If we ended up in a heap on the floor, there would be no helping my body’s reaction, and that might be a touch embarrassing.
So I slid my foot backward to compensate and take my own weight from him as he stumbled forward and then recovered his balance again. “Shit. Sorry,” Tom whispered over the cheers nearby.
“It’s fine,” I giggled. I pretended to bow to those watching. “Spin me around a little bit more and we’ll try it again.”
The second time, Tom was more careful and it worked. I smoothly bent backward, my fingertips brushing the floor. When I straightened up again, Tom’s jaw was hanging open like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.
Tom pulled me up into him and stepped to the side with me again, his lips brushing behind my ear. “I really haven’t tested your flexibility enough. A mistake I sorely regret.”
“Not as sore as I’ll be when I try to sit down tomorrow,” I teased. I saw Tom’s concern and nearly giggled, but then he caught on.
“That was dirty, wasn’t it? Dirty man,” Tom scolded and dipped me without warning.
I caught my breath and squealed, but he had me firmly in his arms now—and at last, I could relax and let him take hold. Take control. Just as I wanted him to do tonight.
When he swung me upright again with a wicked grin, I gulped. “I think you’re learning too fast for your own good.”
“Or too fast for your sass,” Tom countered, winking. He leaned in until his lips just about brushed mine. A scant inch separated us as Tom’s forehead bumped mine. “So, when do I get to see the private show?”
“Tonight,” I promised, my voice hoarse. “I can’t wait.”
“Save me enough energy.”
I grinned at Tom, running my hand slowly up his chest until I could cup his rough cheek. He had no idea, did he? Mere contact with him made my body flood with a heat I couldn’t fully understand, like an instant recharge.
“That won’t be a problem,” I whispered and kissed him until we melted together under the flickering lights without a care for anyone in the world but the two of us.
Chapter Eighteen
A show of heart.
Tom, day 7
I beamed and turned the phone screen to Rusty. “The Uber car is on the way. Oh, it shows you which driver you have! And even his photo. He looks nice.”
Rusty collapsed in giggles against my side. “Oh, God. What’s his rating? Oh, honey, we need to develop a strategy for you.”
I blinked at him. “A strategy?”
“To get you a good rating so you get the top-tier drivers like me.”
“Wait, you get top-tier drivers?” I felt like I was playing an entirely different, far too basic, version of Rusty’s game. “Ratings? Are they rating me?” I stiffened up and glared at my phone. “They’d better leave me a good review.”
The corners of Rusty’s lips twitched upward, however hard he tried to press them down. “I’m sure they will, honey.”
I eyed him, wondering if he was humoring me. What was wrong with good old-fashioned taxis where nobody rated anyone else?
But when the car pulled up, Rusty taught me to match up the license plate to the app and then pulled me inside. “Hello!” He greeted the driver with a sunny smile. “For Tom?”
“Yes. How are you gentlemen this evening?”
I didn’t even get a chance to answer before Rusty launched into conversation about the failed wedding and the divine Unmarriage Reception, as he called it. At first I worried about contributing to the conversation. Then I realized Rusty was probably optimizing my score, or my rating, or whatever it was.
So I relaxed and let him take charge for these few minutes, smiling as I listened to him charming yet another stranger. I was growing used to this. No doubt in the years to come I could pick up a few tricks from him.
The years to come, I repeated mentally, my smile growing as we arrived. I politely thanked the driver and stepped out, then startled when my phone went off in my hand. “Oh, it wants a rating already! I’ve barely set foot on the ground. It could give you a moment to catch your breath,” I mumbled as I hit the five stars. “Is that it? Oh, tipping. Oh my word.”
I’d thought I was doing well by adding my credit card earlier so I was ready to pay. Now there were more tasks to worry about.
Rusty laughed gently and steered me up the driveway. “You don’t have to do it right away.”
“It seems more polite that way.” I waited until I’d done everything the app told me to do before pocketing my phone so I could get my keys out.
Rusty giggled, hooking an arm through mine, which was very unhelpful while trying to unlock the door. But the more I tried to clear my throat and shuffle him out of the way, the more he leaned into me until I was sure he was trying to tease me. “Are you satisfied now?” Rusty whispered, breathy and intimate in my ear.
A shiver of barely-controlled desire started at the nape of the neck. It grew as it surged through me, igniting nerves and awakening impulses I’d forgotten.
“Never enough,” I whispered, hoarse. As I finally slid the key into the lock and twisted, Rusty moaned.
“What steady hands he has,” Rusty teased, his arm going around my waist. “Big, manly hands with nimble fingers…”
I shot him a look and then laughed, pulling him inside so we could kick off our shoes and throw our jackets on hangers. God knew what we’d do with the rest of the outfits in a few scant minutes’ time.