strong man. Be strong enough to let her support you and you two have this thing in the bag.”
“I don’t want your pity, man.”
“Who said anything about pity? I’m going to stomp you to the ground and mark you with size twelve rubber soles in two weeks. I just want you at your best when I do it.”
Ronald laughed and thumped him on the back hard. “You remind me of my buddy. He was a good man.”
“Sorry for your loss, and thank you for your service.”
They shook hands. “Thank you for yours. No one treats me like this anymore. It’s always eggshells and careful looks and comments. I’m going to get back to my partner and see what else she has been holding back on.”
“Semper Fi.”
“Wrong service, man.”
Dane laughed, and turned to check on the rest of the ballroom. “I know. I just wanted to get a rise out of you.”
He spent the next fifteen minutes helping couples through lifts and carries, reminded one new woman why she must always wear underwear under her skirt, and headed to the back to get his shoes on. Macy would be here any minute, and he didn’t want to waste time. His heart thudded in anticipation of her full curves filling his hands—and the competition. The rest of the couples were going to know who the couple to beat was in a matter of minutes.
Sitting in the wings, he took a couple of deep breaths and pulled his left shoe on. Firm, hard, yet supple, it squeaked against the floor when he set it down. He had just polished them, and they looked so shiny and black he could see his reflection in them. Some people got off on football and porn. Funny, he got off on the smell of Kiwi polish and the sound of the shoe tapping the floor. This smell and these sounds had always reminded him of beautiful women and the seduction that took place in the dance floor. Some people made love in a bed. For him, it had always been on the floor, and in front of other people. That made him an exhibitionist. He laughed quietly.
There had always been a string of beautiful women gracing his dancing and his bed. In the ballroom dancing world, he had been one of the lucky few straight men, surrounded by hundreds of women. And the titillating arousal that always came from holding one firmly in his arms, dominating her with his strength then yielding to her softness, but only when it gave him pleasure, produced such a feeling of power he’d reveled in it for years.
So many women, so many dances. A few had even stolen his heart. Like Sveta, the Swedish beauty with the sharp tongue and lithe body. God, the woman could dance, and make love. But he hadn’t loved her. And Sveta had wanted more than he could give her. She had wanted someone to take care of her, lead her, a twenty-four hour a day partnership with him responsible for everything. But he didn’t want to choose her clothes, tell her what to eat or when to go to bed. They had parted amicably. Thankfully, or this reunion would have been more than slightly awkward.
But now, he would have given away every dance partner he had ever had. All his dreams of sensual rhythms and heat. All of it for one woman. Macy. Macy was the partner he had always dreamed of, and he was falling for her hard. He was a chaotic mixture of sheer possessive instinct over this woman and an almost overwhelming need to protect her. And, someday soon, he would tell her how he felt. He could fall in love with this woman. He already felt such a deep connection to her, he almost couldn’t breathe when he thought about losing her.
But he had been hurt before. And he wasn’t sure he was as strong as he projected. If she shunned him, he would fall flat on his face. It would wreck him. It was better for them to keep things easy. Maybe she would make the first move. If she ever showed any sign that leaned toward love and forever, he would reciprocate. But there was no way he was putting that out there first.
Yeah, some Dom he turned out to be. And, even worse, he had just pushed Ronald
“I don’t want your pity, man.”
“Who said anything about pity? I’m going to stomp you to the ground and mark you with size twelve rubber soles in two weeks. I just want you at your best when I do it.”
Ronald laughed and thumped him on the back hard. “You remind me of my buddy. He was a good man.”
“Sorry for your loss, and thank you for your service.”
They shook hands. “Thank you for yours. No one treats me like this anymore. It’s always eggshells and careful looks and comments. I’m going to get back to my partner and see what else she has been holding back on.”
“Semper Fi.”
“Wrong service, man.”
Dane laughed, and turned to check on the rest of the ballroom. “I know. I just wanted to get a rise out of you.”
He spent the next fifteen minutes helping couples through lifts and carries, reminded one new woman why she must always wear underwear under her skirt, and headed to the back to get his shoes on. Macy would be here any minute, and he didn’t want to waste time. His heart thudded in anticipation of her full curves filling his hands—and the competition. The rest of the couples were going to know who the couple to beat was in a matter of minutes.
Sitting in the wings, he took a couple of deep breaths and pulled his left shoe on. Firm, hard, yet supple, it squeaked against the floor when he set it down. He had just polished them, and they looked so shiny and black he could see his reflection in them. Some people got off on football and porn. Funny, he got off on the smell of Kiwi polish and the sound of the shoe tapping the floor. This smell and these sounds had always reminded him of beautiful women and the seduction that took place in the dance floor. Some people made love in a bed. For him, it had always been on the floor, and in front of other people. That made him an exhibitionist. He laughed quietly.
There had always been a string of beautiful women gracing his dancing and his bed. In the ballroom dancing world, he had been one of the lucky few straight men, surrounded by hundreds of women. And the titillating arousal that always came from holding one firmly in his arms, dominating her with his strength then yielding to her softness, but only when it gave him pleasure, produced such a feeling of power he’d reveled in it for years.
So many women, so many dances. A few had even stolen his heart. Like Sveta, the Swedish beauty with the sharp tongue and lithe body. God, the woman could dance, and make love. But he hadn’t loved her. And Sveta had wanted more than he could give her. She had wanted someone to take care of her, lead her, a twenty-four hour a day partnership with him responsible for everything. But he didn’t want to choose her clothes, tell her what to eat or when to go to bed. They had parted amicably. Thankfully, or this reunion would have been more than slightly awkward.
But now, he would have given away every dance partner he had ever had. All his dreams of sensual rhythms and heat. All of it for one woman. Macy. Macy was the partner he had always dreamed of, and he was falling for her hard. He was a chaotic mixture of sheer possessive instinct over this woman and an almost overwhelming need to protect her. And, someday soon, he would tell her how he felt. He could fall in love with this woman. He already felt such a deep connection to her, he almost couldn’t breathe when he thought about losing her.
But he had been hurt before. And he wasn’t sure he was as strong as he projected. If she shunned him, he would fall flat on his face. It would wreck him. It was better for them to keep things easy. Maybe she would make the first move. If she ever showed any sign that leaned toward love and forever, he would reciprocate. But there was no way he was putting that out there first.
Yeah, some Dom he turned out to be. And, even worse, he had just pushed Ronald
Similar Books
