Ava, shocked, mouth hanging open, watches as her friends cheer, Sam laughs and Drew, fucking Drew, joins us too.

Go on, call me uptight now, I dare you. I yank her close as she laughs, grinding into her, doing myself no favors. I’m solid and, frankly, it’s fucking uncomfortable. And when she notices my condition, she cups me. Lord above, don’t do that, woman. I shake my head in warning, taking her hips and lowering to my knees. It’s symbolic. If only she knew. The way she’s looking down at me now, it’s with adoration. Love? She glances around us for a few seconds, taking in the scene, maybe looking to her friends for guidance. She doesn’t need it. I’ll guide her wherever she needs to go, hold her hand all the way, support her, hug her, worship her. I want to be this woman’s be-all and end-all. Can I have that? Will she let me?

Ava returns her gaze to me, half smiling, half unsure, her dark eyes shining. I’ll make her sure. I clasp her hips and kiss her stomach, looking up at her, making a million silent promises to her as I do. I’ll fulfil each and every one. It’s my mission objective.

I get up fast and reinforce every one of my silent promises with a hard kiss, and she sighs, taking me in her arms and hugging me.

“It seems I have competition,” I mumble into her mouth, the slippery friction of her tongue on mine dizzying.

“No,” she says quietly. “You win.”

I lean back, getting her in my sights. “I’ve won all right, lady.” The fucking jackpot. Life-changing stuff. Now I have to show her I’m worthy of the prize.

But first, we dance.

I let her go and she flicks her hair over her shoulder sassily, ready for me. She’s not ready. The thought runs on repeat until I bat it away.

Back to the here. Back to the now.

We dance together and it is, without a doubt, one of the most enjoyable things I’ve ever done. So simple, but so much fun. Me? Uptight? Give me a fucking break. Dancing with Ava is one of my new favorite things, and we’ll be doing a lot of it. Closeness. Focus. A room full of people, and yet there is only us.

The beat slows, and with it, so do we. She’s out of breath, her cheeks pink. I pull her close and move us together, singing quietly as she gazes into my eyes. Like . . . she could love me. I can only pray. Because make no mistake, I am head over fucking heels for her.