Tracking You. Kelly Moran

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СКАЧАТЬ But what difference did it make what song they’d chosen?

      Gabby’s thumbs flew over the keypad in response, then she swiped the screen to pull up YouTube. She scooted closer to him, bringing her light scent of honey with her. “We’re dancing to Ed Shereen’s ‘Thinking Out Loud.’ This video has the lyrics typed.”

      Because if he understood the lyrics, he would feel the mood of the music. He stared at her and, for the umpteenth time in his life, wondered what in the hell he’d do without her. To avoid doing something stupid, like kiss her in gratitude, he focused on her phone.

      As he read the lines of the song, he couldn’t help but think how it kinda nailed his feelings toward Gabby. From a friendship standpoint, of course. There was no crossing the line in the sand with her. Everything that made his life run smoothly, everything that made a lick of sense, was because they were a solid unit just like this. He was certain his world would implode if anything jeopardized what they had.

      When the video ended, she set her phone aside and stood. The sweats he’d loaned her hung from her hourglass hips and threatened to fall. His old tee hid all her willowy curves. She held out her hand expectantly.

      “What?”

      “Practice, that’s what.” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet, or rather, he let her. He had a good foot and ninety pounds on her. Glancing around the space, she pursed her lips in thought as if trying to calculate the best spot to “practice.”

      After Flynn and his brothers had graduated from veterinarian school, they each had built a house on unused family land deep in the woods at the edge of town. Flynn’s was modest compared to his brothers’. A ranch with only three bedrooms and a kitchen half the size of Cade’s. Drake had gone grand scale because he and his wife Heather had wanted a litter of kids. Until she’d died from cancer a few years ago. Even though their tastes were different and the layouts unique, all three cabins had naturalistic and masculine elements. Huge stone fireplaces, bare wood floors, rafter beams cut from birch, floor-to-ceiling windows, and clean edges to the designs.

      Gabby grabbed the phone and guided him around the couch to the open area between the living room and kitchen where the rug wouldn’t trip them up, he assumed. The hardwood planks beneath his feet were cool, despite the temperatures outside finally warming with spring.

      She fiddled with the phone and took his hand. “Do you feel the vibrations?”

      Barely. It was easier to feel bass from a speaker. He shook his head.

      She did something in the settings and looked at him. “Now?”

      It was stronger, yeah. The thready pulse pressed a rhythm against his hand. He nodded.

      She put the phone in the breast pocket of his tee where the bass thumped against his chest. Maneuvering his right arm around her waist, she took his left hand in hers. The position thrust them closer than he’d anticipated as her soft, sweet honey scent wrapped around him. The warmth from her body drifted near, inviting.

      He stilled as his neck heated. He didn’t think it was possible to get embarrassed with Gabby, but being this close to her was awkward and…

      Hell. He focused on breathing instead.

      “I put the song on repeat, so we have time.” She smiled reassuringly and his heart flipped over in his goddamn chest. When he made no motion to start, she tilted her head. “We really don’t have to do much more than sway back and forth. If you want to learn a basic box step, use your left foot to go that direction and follow my lead.”

      He was having a hard time reading her lips with the blood roaring through his veins and his vision hazy. Any second now, he’d break out in a cold sweat.

      Christ, it was just Gabby.

      She gingerly set them in motion, a slight shift to his left. He caught up and went with it. But instead of moving backward according to her pattern, he went forward at the same time she did and they collided. He stepped on her foot. Hard.

      He pinched his eyes closed. This was stupid. No one would be paying attention to them at the wedding with Avery in the room all decked out. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t dance or not.

      Gabby’s laugh rumbled his chest. She squeezed his fingers and he dutifully opened his eyes. “Relax.”

      It wasn’t as if he wasn’t trying. Sorry, he mouthed.

      She shook her head as if to say, poor, poor man, and set her free hand on the back of his neck. The heat from her fingers slid down his spine to a part that best not awaken. Before he could process he was in danger of thinking with his lower head, she carefully placed her tiny feet on top of his, thrusting her breasts snug against him and aligning their bodies. Like how a little girl might dance with her dad, except…he was definitely not her father.

      The room vacuumed of air.

      It had been way too long since he’d had sex.

      Tilting her head back to look up at him, she grinned in good fun, unaware of where his devious thoughts had plummeted. “Now you can’t step on my feet. Where you move, I go.”

      He’d never noticed the tiny, round scar above her eyebrow before. Most likely from the bout of chicken pox they’d had in second grade. All these years, though, and he’d just detected it. Shades lighter than her milky skin, the spot was barely noticeable.

      They were close enough to share air. Her warm breath skimmed his jaw. He’d bet his right nut her skin would taste as good as it smelled. Summer and honey and sweet…

      Shit. Double shit.

      He was not getting turned-on. The situation had nothing to do with the woman and everything to do with biology. She was molded to him like second skin. It was a natural response to contact. Nothing more.

      By sheer will—and thinking about his great aunt in a bikini—he roped in the reaction before Gabby became aware. He set them in motion with no rhyme or reason other than to move.

      Weaving them around the room, she stayed rooted to him by keeping her feet on his. He kept his arms around her back lest she lose balance. He spun and tracked the open space until they were both dizzy and he no longer felt like a cad for impure thoughts.

      When he stopped, struggling for air, she threw her head back and laughed. Her ponytail dislodged, causing a riot with her hair. He pushed the strands away from her face and resisted rubbing his thumb over her jaw. Right now, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes lit, she wasn’t so adorable after all. Other adjectives came to mind, but he shoved them deep in the recesses of his mind. He hoped to hell his expression was as blank as he was trying to force it to be.

      Her smile slipped a degree and something close to awareness filled her eyes. The fingers on the back of his neck dug in deep. She froze on impact and, after two heartbeats too long, she eased out of his arms. She took great care adjusting the too large shirt she’d borrowed, looking everywhere but at him.

      With a rapid flash, as if he might burn her with contact, she took her phone out of his pocket. “Shooters tomorrow with the gang?”

      They’d made those plans earlier today, thus no need to remind him. He nodded, not liking the strange rift. “I’ll be there.”

      “I’m СКАЧАТЬ