Page 44 of The Way We Touch
This time it’s INXS’s “I Need You Tonight,” and Cooters & Shooters is in full-on dance mode. I look around and everyone’s rotating their hips and singing along with the song.
Garrett bends down and lifts his sister onto the bar in one fluid motion. She lets out a little yelp, but now she’s standing above me, her muscular legs on full display, her ass barely covered in denim cutoffs, and her long hair swinging down her back.
“Dance!” Garrett orders, and she shrugs.
Then she lifts her arms over her head and starts to rotate her hips in a way that short-circuits my brain.
In her ballet videos, she was a girl—delicate, thin, and dainty as a Christmas snowflake. Now she’s all woman and pure sex.
She bends her knees and does a little hip thrust, and my dick springs to life in my jeans. Her tanned legs dip and flex, and her plump ass bounces in those shorts.
My lips are parted, and I’m surprised my tongue doesn’t roll out like one of those cartoons. My mind floods with images of all the dirty things we could do together. I need you tonight…
Everyone on the bar dances in time, including the two men in wigs, but she’s the only thing I see.
She turns around, her hips still moving to the beat, and when she turns back, her eyes are closed. Her chin lifts, and she raises her arms, rolling with the music and twisting her narrow waist. Her full tits bounce in time to the music, and that does it.
The last of my resistance goes up in flames.
“I’m sorry if I got a little dark on you last time we were together.” Dylan’s voice is soft, and we’re back at the house. She’s sitting across the bar from me in the kitchen, a pint of Guinness in her hand, and everyone’s gone to bed.
She’s amazing, and I’ve been on edge since her sexy dance on the bar. Holding her in my arms and swaying to the music was great, but she took it to the next level with her Coyote Ugly moves.
“I’ve never talked to anyone about what happened that day,” she continues, seeming oblivious to her effect on me. “Except, Craig, of course.”
“Your brothers never checked on you or asked how you were feeling?” I’m leaning on the cool granite across from her.
I want to extend my hand, slide my fingers up and down the soft skin of her forearm, wrap them around her wrist, and pull her to me.
“I think they felt guilty, Zane in particular, and maybe he thought it would make me feel worse if we talked about it.”
I consider her brother Zane, and his response to therapy. “Still, they should’ve asked if you were okay.”
“I can put on a pretty good show of taking things in stride.” Her voice isn’t as fragile tonight, and I’m glad. “I’m pretty good at pretending everything’s fine when inside I’m falling apart. I guess we all are.”
“It can be a relief to focus on what you’re good at, on the things you can control, instead of what you can’t.”
Her head tilts to the side. “You sound like you have experience with it. What fell apart on you?”
Exhaling, I take a chance, extending my hand across the bar in her direction. Her brothers are all in bed or at their own homes. It’s just the two of us, sharing like we always do after dark.
Now I’m reaching out for more, but she hesitates. I don’t move, giving her the chance to consider, to say yes or no, as every muscle in my body tenses.
Her amber eyes are on my hand, and her tongue touches her bottom lip. I know her fears, but I’m so far past wondering if this might be a mistake. She danced across that bar and stole my heart tonight, and I don’t care about the consequences.
I know she doesn’t date football players, and I know I’m asking her to bend her rules. At the same time, we’ve shared so much. It’s a risk, but something tells me this risk is worth taking.
This connection we share is different. It’s real. Things can change. We can change them together.
Seconds tick past. I’m on the razor’s edge of letting her go, chalking it up to what might have been, to nothing ventured, when she moves.
The air in my lungs stills as she slowly leans forward in her seat. She puts her elbows on the bar and lowers her pint glass.
Then, with her eyes fixed on my hand, she moves hers over it. My heart beats faster, and it requires all my control to take it easy. I turn my palm so hers slides against it, and I do my best to act casual, not like something monumental just happened.
What did she ask me? My experience with life falling apart.
“I would see my friends with their dads throwing the ball, laughing, going to movies. One friend’s dad took us to see the Spider-Man movie, and he was as into it as we were. Then I got home that night, and my house was empty.”