Life Before Damaged Vol 7 :The Ferro Family (Life Before Damaged #7) by H. M. Ward

Author:H. M. Ward [Ward, H. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781630350772
Amazon: B010TXRT6A
Publisher: Laree Bailey Press
Published: 2015-07-19T23:00:00+00:00

WHAT THE WALTZ?

August 31st , 6:31 pm

WHAT?!

Our parents move away from the lectern, my mother stroking my father's back reassuringly. Pete walks over to the DJ, leaving me stranded alone at the front of the room looking like an idiot, tapping my fingers on my thighs. He and the DJ exchange a couple of words, gesturing with their hands and nodding.

Pete removes his jacket, vest, tie and cufflinks, setting them on the DJ’s table. When he comes back, he unbuttons the top button of his shirt and rolls his cuffs midway up his forearms, the whole time looking straight at me with those blue bedroom eyes.

When he’s ready, he walks over and offers his hand. I slip my hand in his while he rests his other hand on my waist. He tips his head down to look into my eyes.

“Ready to have your ass kicked, Granz?” The corner of his mouth lifts to one side. His goading breaks my unease.

“Kick my ass? At a waltz? I’m a ballerina, dude! We waltz in our sleep! We’ll see whose ass gets whipped.” Pete grins at my words and I realize what I said. “Shut up and dance, Ferro.”

Pete bursts out laughing and the music starts. Glenn Miller’s trombone rings out a few notes of warning and Pete’s mischievous smile says the rest. Oh, crapsticks! He intends on swing dancing instead of waltzing, and I’m not wearing the right clothing!

“Uh, Pete?" I tug on his shoulder. "Easy on the lifts, okay? I can't flash my undies to anyone here tonight.”

“As you wish, Miss Granz.” His words are coupled with a wink, and my hopes go the way of the Titanic. Crap. He’s totally planning on showing everyone the color of my panties.

Before I can back out, he spins me out, away from him and quickly snaps me back. The movement propels me so that I crash into his chest, and I’m eye-level with his exposed neck. God, he smells good. What is that? Leather? The guy smells like a saddle and spices. The little dip at the base of his throat is just begging to be licked.

We freeze for a couple of beats, smiling at each other, and when the intro fades into the melody, he starts leading me into the dance that I taught him. Our steps are perfectly synchronized and lively. He leads me across the dance floor, making me move in any way he wants. His grip is firm and authoritative. He isn’t a weak dance partner, and it’s not because I’m being a good girl and following perfectly.

When I try to take control, his grip on me tightens and he guides me more forcefully, pushing me under his arm, spinning me out, and snapping me back. We’re breathing hard and the rush is amazing. I forget the people watching. It’s just us and the magical pulse of the trumpet. The singer’s voice is lush and spot on. It’s like we’re lost in time, pulled apart from the things that threaten to destroy us.

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