Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
The only person I want to dance with is Riley.
“Alright, kids, clear the dance floor for the old folks,” the DJ says over the microphone. “Let them show you how it’s done, old-school style.”
“DAD!” Grace whisper-screams. Then her eyes bounce to Riley and I can see the idea blooming in her mind, clear as day. “You two, start dancing. Now!”
She shoves me at Riley and instinctively, my arms go around her waist and I pull her toward me. “Uh, would you like to dance?” I say, laughing at the unexpected situation.
“I’d love to,” Riley purrs, sounding formal and silly all at the same time, like she’s mimicking a Bridgerton affect.
I adjust my grip on her body, taking a more traditional ballroom stance with my left hand holding hers and my right lightly on her lower back, and begin moving us to the slow song. She follows my lead easily and feels so right in my arms.
A blink later, a brunette woman who I’m assuming is Ms. Flanders because I have no idea who that is, stops beside us. Her lips are puffed out in what I’m sure she thinks is a cute pout, but mostly, she looks like she’s had too much lip filler. “I was going to ask you to dance, Cameron,” she informs me, making it sound like I should be grateful for the opportunity and should now throw Riley aside in favor of her.
“I’m dancing with Riley,” I tell her coldly, spinning away from the brunette. I feel Riley’s hand move from my shoulder and glance down to find her waving two little fingers at the other woman with a smug look on her face. “Bitchy looks good on you, when it’s warranted.”
“Oh!” Riley sobers, looking scolded.
To hide my own smirk, I lean down to whisper in her ear. “You are the only woman I wanted to dance with, so you have every right to act a bit territorial. Especially when you and my daughter saved me from the clutches of that gold digger.”
Because I remember Ms. Flanders now. She went through a divorce a few years ago and was throwing herself at every dad at the school, married or not, in an attempt to find a favorable position for herself. As a single dad, I was her prime target, and after several polite no-thank-yous, I’d resorted to clinically cold nos, and once, a threat of going to the dean. Thankfully, that had sent her scurrying to find another mark.
I sway Riley in time with the music, letting the rhythm lead us in a small circle at the edge of the floor. I’m sure people are watching us, but I don’t care. My entire focus is the woman pressed against me so tightly that I’m sure she can feel the effect she has on me. How could she not? I’m hard and growing harder with every beat of the music, every sway of her hips, every rise and fall of her chest. Thank goodness it’s dark in the school gym and I’m wearing black slacks or everyone would know what she does to me.
“You’ve been holding out on me, Mr. Harrington,” Riley teases when I twirl her out and then bring her back in smoothly.
I’m honestly not sure if she means the dancing or my dick.
“You have no idea.”
That’s the truth. I have been holding out on her, and on myself. Denying my desire, rejecting my picturesque fantasies of what if I could have her, and pretending that I could keep everything status quo and be fine.
I’m not sure I can do that much longer. I’m at the end of my rope and my fingers are slipping, wanting desperately to touch Riley, to feel the silk of her skin and the warmth of her pussy.
The song ends too soon, and breathless, we step back to the side of the dancefloor. I want to wrap my arm around her shoulders so I can keep touching her, but my duties as chaperone win out for the moment, though I stand as close as I can get while still being reasonably appropriate.
Riley has no compunction for rules and pulls on my arm to bring me down so she can whisper in my ear. “Thank you for that. I’ve never been to a school dance, and now I’ve been to one and danced with the most handsome man there.” She makes a check in the air, like she’s marking items off her bucket list.
School dance… check.
Handsome man… check.
Happy… always a check for her.
When she pulls away from me, I keep looking at her. It’s too dark to be sure, but I think she’s blushing at the casual revelation.
I keep forgetting that she has lived a life of want because she doesn’t see it that way at all. She’s appreciative of every experience and makes the most of every moment, reminding me to do the same.