The One That I Want (Scorned Women Society Book 3) Piper Sheldon (classic books for 12 year olds .TXT) 📖

you had to work this party,” he explained. “I thought …” He looked to the side and then turned back to me. His focus snagged on my legs before returning to my face where it moved from my mouth to my eyes and all around. “Well, you mentioned never having prom or graduation, this is the next best thing.”

He looked so earnest as he spoke, so hot with his slicked-back hair and freshly shaved face. He was so sexy I couldn’t stand still. I wanted to rub my thighs together just to feel the silk material. I wanted to feel him roll the stockings off my body slowly, one at a time.

“Such a romantic,” I said having no clue how to even handle such a thoughtful gesture. “Thank you,” I added.

I reached out and squeezed his biceps without meaning too. The action surprised us both. I didn’t even know what happened. One moment I was standing there and the next my hands had a mind of their own.

He raised an eyebrow and cracked a smile.

Something shifted in me then. Like the final remnants of an ice cube dissolving, I gave in. I’d been trying so hard to maintain control when all I did was make everything worse. He came here to comfort me, to give me the dance I never had, even after my freak-out at Genie’s. It was time to just let our bodies take the lead for once.

“I was actually just about to leave,” I said, hoping he’d take the hint. Maybe we could go have a drink at the bar … maybe I could share with him the very expensive La Perla garter belt—purchased at sale seventy-five percent off—that held these stockings up.

His smile dropped. I realized too late how he would take that.

“Not sneaking out,” I said quickly, trying to poke fun at myself. “Maybe you and I …”

“This party is a stinker,” he said glancing around.

“Wait. What? What do you mean?” We looked around the room. More kids had moved to play with their phones at the tables.

He nodded looking concerned, hands deep in his pockets. “We have to do something.”

“I’ve done everything.” I started mentally going over the checklist for the party, the food, the decor, the music, everything had gone off without a hitch. But something was missing, I admitted to myself. It was … a bit of a snoozer.

“Let’s dance. Show them how it’s done,” he said.

“Right.” I laughed.

“I’m serious. Somebody needs to show these whippersnappers how to dance.”

“Whippersnappers? You’re so cool,” I said dryly.

He grabbed my hand and started tugging me to the floor. I froze. “What are you doing?”

“Come on. We have to pass on our traditions to the next generations. This is crucial.” He tugged me.

“Sanders. No. I’m serious. I do not dance.”

“Are you kidding me?” he asked and I realized my mistake.

“Okay, I dance. But I already told you I wasn’t myself that night.”

“Lie.” He threw out his arms frustrated. “Come on, Roxxo. Who cares what they think? You’re never going to see these people again.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s Green Valley, I’ll probably see half this room tomorrow.”

“True. Still, who cares? Aren’t you tired of holding on so tight all the time?” He came closer. He brought his hands around my head. For a moment, I thought he was going to pull me in for a kiss. I didn’t want that. Or did I want that? “Aren’t you tired of thinking all the time?” He pressed his forehead to mine in a frustrated growl. “Don’t you just want to dance like we did that night?”

I widened my eyes.

“Okay,” he amended. “Maybe not exactly like that night. There are impressionable young minds around us.”

His hands reached around for the clip that held my hair back. He pulled it out and ran his fingers through it. He was right. I just told myself to let go. Now I had to follow it with action.

“You’re broken in the brain,” I said but it came out a husky whisper.

“Likely. But you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.” He scratched his nails against my scalp and ran his fingers through the length, until it flowed around me. I smelled my shampoo from my slightly damp hair and he leaned in to inhale it deeper. Little freak. I bit back a smile.

I was tired of overthinking. I was tired of being so afraid that a little fun would cause an entire backslide. Just then the peppy beat of the Electric Slide blasted from the speakers. My shoulders started to rock back and forth like some base Pavlovian reaction to the music.

“Come on, you know you want to,” he said with no shortage of flirtation in his voice.

I rolled my eyes. “This is insanity.”

I grabbed his hand and we went to the floor. “That’s my girl!” he shouted and I couldn’t help but feel delirious from his words.

“So is this like the Nutbush?” he asked.

He watched my steps and caught on quickly.

“I have no idea what that is,” I shouted over the music.

He stilled. “I have so much to teach you.” After a disappointed shake of his head, he started to move again.

A few girls hovering on the edge of the dance floor giggled and pulled each other to the center. I moved to the front to show them. It’s a superpower women sometimes have, the ability to learn line dances instantly and follow with ease.

“There you go,” I said to them. They laughed and shimmied without shame. I could tell they felt cute too and that made me feel good.

Who was I? Maybe this was the joy Suzie felt teaching a class at Stripped. I let the music take over. It was fun to line dance. I didn’t look cool but I didn’t care. This was fun. I could have fun, I was allowed.

More people moved to the floor. Soon at least thirty of us were dancing. Step forward, rock back. Shimmy.

“Alright, now. Come on, y’all!” the DJ