Page 87 of Dance of Defiance

Because the more I try to tell myself that I’m not attracted to men, the more I keep thinking about onecertainman.

…And how futile it is to pretend I’m not attracted to him.

Because I am.A lot.

I mean, he’s fucking beautiful. Those goddamn eyes. The longish, shaggy dark hair that gives him a rock-star vibe. The fashion-model jawline and cheekbones. His grooved, tattooed body, hewn from rock thanks to a lifetime of dance.

I swallow uncomfortably as flashbacks from tonight hit like small fireworks going off in front of my face.

The bathroom. Letting him—Ididlet him—pull me into that stall. His mouth on mine. His hands on my body, his touch igniting fire within me and turning me on in ways Ineverhave been before.

His lips against my skin. His filthy words in my ear.

…My lips around his cock.

I blink rapidly as it all comes rushing back at once.

Fucking hell,I sucked a cock tonight.

Without hesitation. I fuckingwantedit. And while I was doing it, feeling his thick erection gliding past my stretched lips and over my tongue, spilling precum down my throat, I wantedmore.

Feeling him seize control and take away my power gave me, ironically, a power and a control I’ve never felt before.

“Jesus, the two of you.”

Laz’s voice rips me from my memories of everything that just happened. I freeze when I realize I’mrockfucking hard, too.

Bane turns to glance at our friend. “What?”

“You’re both sulking and moping. I’d like to know why.”

Bane’s brow furrows. “Are you high?” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder to where my sister is sleeping off her bender.

Laz rolls his eyes. “Okay, Evie drank too much. But she’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep, some Advil, and a big greasy breakfast. You two look like you just left a funeral.”

I shake my head. “I do not.”

“Youdo.” Laz grins. “I mean…” He prods Bane in the arm, who promptly shakes him off. “I knowthis oneis all hung up about some girl.”

Bane’s chiseled jaw tightens, his tattooed knuckles tensing as he grips the steering wheel tightly. His middle finger curls and uncurls, stroking the side of the finger next to it.

Bane’s good about hiding his emotions, always has been. I mean, shit, we’ve known each other since we were kids, and eventhough I'm aware there’s this bigthingthat happened to him when he was young,Idon’t even know what it was.

He’s…not exactly the open, sharing type.

All I know is, there’s darkness in my friend that he keeps locked down tight, almost without a single “tell”.

But the finger-rub?

That’s it. That’s the tell.

“I never said that,” Bane grunts in reply to Laz’s prodding.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not right, though.”

Bane's jaw clenches tighter. One finger strokes the other.

“Drop it, Laz,” I growl.