He took his hands from his hips, looked like he was going to make a move toward me, and opened his mouth.

“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “We’re in the scary, soul-baring part so you don’t get to talk. I’ll open up discussion when I’m done. Now you need to listen.”

When I said the bit about “the scary, soul-baring part” his face took on an expression I had to ignore for my peace of mind and my will to go on without skipping this part and jumping him and his bare chest.

Then he crossed his arms on that chest and settled in.

Not much better.

Perseverance in the face of his gorgeousness, clearly, was going to be the key.

I called on that and carried on.

“So, I got embarrassed about that, and I can imagine you get that. What you don’t know is, that’s the first time I’ve danced, not stripping, in maybe three years.”

“Jesus,” he whispered.

I allowed that since it was a reaction and not an interruption.

“And it felt really good, until it didn’t, and then you guys saw me, but it just brought to the fore the fact that I quit dancing not because I didn’t like it. I do. I love it. But because it came with messed-up memories and those were surfacing too. Around about the time I was dancing in that room I forgot to do it just because I loved doing it, and it felt amazing, then I did a minor screwup that meant nothing at all. But my dad got in my head. And I wasn’t angry at myself for messing up so much as angry at myself for still letting him mess me up.”

“Okay, baby,” he said softly.

Oh hell.

I hadn’t told him he couldn’t interject, softly or other, much less call me baby.

All of which was really nice.

I cleared my throat.

“So, to wit,” I started, Axl’s lips quirked, that was hot, and annoying because it was hot since it was messing with my mojo to get this done, but I kept on, “that was where I was at with that and I just let it get the better of me.”

“Understandable,” he said.

Okay.

Good.

Phew.

Next!

“And I get that it may not be cool I danced ‘Shut Up’ for you when I was closing you out and you have a girlfriend—”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Okay…

Um…

Oh my God.

My brain did mental cartwheels.

Then it hit me.

“A woman you’re seeing,” I amended to dude speak.

He shook his head. “No. We broke it off the day you messed up in that studio.”

Oh.

My.

God.

“Uh…” I forced out.

“We’re still friends and we hang, though,” he said.

“Oh, okay,” I mumbled.