Page 14 of Red, White, and You (Merry Little Midlife #3)

I stand at the edge of the outdoor dance floor, my heart pounding rapidly in my chest. The night sky above is black behind a canopy of neon lights that have been strung up in a crisscross pattern across the open space, casting a soft amber glow upon the sprawling dance floor.

Laughter drifts through the air, accompanied by people speaking too loudly, shoes shuffling around clumsily, and heels clicking against the wooden facade.

But there’s no music .

Each camper wears headphones, but without them, I can’t hear the song or follow the beat. They look ridiculous, and honestly, I can’t say I understand the allure.

Frankly, I just don’t get it.

My shoulders are tense as I watch, my fingers gripped tightly around my glass of wine.

I’ve taken time off to be here. I’ve waterskied. Today, I even ziplined, for God’s sake. I’ve gone as far as taking a break from blow-drying and styling my hair.

But a silent disco? Dancing around to music no one else can hear?

The very thought of it fills me with dread .

I sip my wine and watch as couples and groups of singles twirl and sway, their bodies moving to the rhythm of only God knows what song.

Could be Calvin Harris.

Could be The Wiggles.

Is it all the same song or does each person have something different streaming into their ears?

The wireless headphones Brady gave me hang around my wrist—and that’s as close as they’ll get to my ears. Unless… could I connect to my cell phone and pull up a podcast? Catch the latest episode of Lawyerist ?

Now that I might be into.

I scan the campers, searching for my ex-husband amidst the kaleidoscope of colors and movements. He stands across the dancefloor, and when our eyes meet, the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. He smiles, and everything else disappears.

Almost.

There’s still a sea of people dancing around like fools.

They part as he steps onto the dancefloor, making room for the man they all adore as he strides toward me. With every step he takes in my direction, my tension eases.

He’s dressed in a snug black t-shirt tonight, a pair of black jeans sitting low on his hips, and dark chestnut chukka boots. He fits in here, obviously, but could just as easily be the center of attention at a nightclub in the city.

I lick my lips as he approaches me and his eyebrows rise playfully.

Blushing, I drop my gaze.

His fingers find my chin and tilt my head back up. “Dance with me,” he mouths.

“You’ve got to be kidding. ”

“What?” he mouths, pointing to his headphones. “I can’t hear you.”

I cross my arms.

Brady steals the wine glass from my hand and finishes the last sip, then sets it down on a nearby wine barrel-turned-table. He begins to sway to whatever music he hears and, God bless him, he looks damn good doing it.

But doubts swirl within me. What if I make a fool of myself? What if my movements are out of sync with the rhythm that only I can hear?

A knowing smile curves his lips, his gaze full of nothing but love and acceptance. And maybe a little mischief. I could break into the African Anteater Mating Ritual and this man would still look at me like I’m the love of his life.

Maybe I’ll do just that, teach him a lesson.

He reaches for my headphones and I allow him to pull them from their resting place on my forearm, then he presses a button on the side and gently places them on my head. He adjusts the volume, watching me for a reaction.

A sultry rhythm flows through the headphones. It has a heady, underlying bass beat that seeps into my bones. Slow and sexy, it doesn’t take long for the music to weaken my defenses.

Brady raises his eyebrows.

I shrug. Fine. It’s not… awful .

He sways his hips again, dancing to the music that now we both can hear, then steps toward me and wraps his arms around my waist. Reluctantly, I let him move my body in tune with his until I can no longer fight the need to move with him, to feel him.

I unfold my arms and wrap them around his neck, line my body up with his because that’s what it wants. That’s all it wants.

“Good girl,” he mouths .

I roll my eyes and shake my head, but can’t help the smile that pulls at my lips.

With every movement, his devotion wraps around me like a protective shield, urging me to let go of my fears and surrender to the man who loves me.

The world around us fades into a blur of moving bodies, a sea of glowing neon, leaving only Brady and me. I close my eyes, breathe him in, and let him take control. He moves us around the dancefloor, slowly and sensually. Within this dance, time stands still.

The song changes. Again and again. The dance remains the same. We’re as close as two people can be without being naked.

It’s not close enough.

We laugh, twirl, and sway, lost in a realm of our own creation.

With every step, every movement, I shed my self-consciousness.

He pulls me closer, curling over me and nudging my nose with his own, then his lips are on mine, parting them, and he kisses me slowly, matching the rhythmic beat of the music.

We kiss and rock, making this moment our own.

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark, hooded with desire.

My belly is taut, a knot of longing twisting tighter with every step we take, his leg pressed between mine as he guides me around the floor causing friction that is almost as intoxicating as the man himself.

Our dance is erotic and private, yet out in the open for all to see.

The thought makes my heart skip a beat, but when I look around, no one pays us any attention, lost in their own lives.

Laughing and dancing and making memories beneath the stars, they’re completely oblivious to the foreplay happening between Brady and me .

Brady clasps my chin and runs his thumb across my bottom lip, then grips my chin firmly as he ducks to kiss me once more, harder this time, more demanding. He claims me with each stroke of his tongue, turns my limbs to jelly and melts my insides with the heated passion of his kiss.

He pulls back and smirks, then takes my hand, leading me away from the pulsating energy of the silent disco with quick strides, damn near dragging me behind him as he heads down the hill toward the lake.

I don’t mind this caveman side of him. I giggle and realize I still have my headphones on, but don’t move to take them off. The music still flows through the speakers, and I’m kind of used to it now, kind of… liking the way it makes me feel like we’re in our own little world together.

The moon casts a radiant glow upon the tranquil lake. The night sky is ablaze with stars, sparkling confetti strewn across an ebony backdrop. He leads me to the dock, positions himself behind me.

The soft sigh of the wind caresses my cheeks, carrying with it the scent of summer blooms. Brady’s presence behind me is both comforting and electrifying. The warm night air wraps around us, but has nothing on the heat of his body.

With a gentle pull, Brady draws me closer, until our bodies are pressed firmly together, my back to his chest.

His lips, soft and warm, find my throat, and I close my eyes on a sigh.

We rock to the music, slower now, barely moving.

He reaches up to cup my throat, holding me firmly against his body as his other hand trails down to the top of my skirt.

He skitters his fingertips across the exposed flesh of my midriff, sending goosebumps out over my flesh.

He runs his tongue up the side of my throat as he dips his hand beneath the fabric of my skirt, down beneath the lace of my panties.

He teases my mound with feather-soft strokes, then reaches down until he can push two fingers inside of me.

I gasp, but he tilts my head, sealing his mouth over mine.

He kisses me through every whimper, every moan, silencing the sounds I make as he coaxes my body toward my next earth-shattering orgasm beneath the starlit sky.

Anyone could be watching us. People could have surrounded the dock behind us, and we wouldn’t have heard a single footstep approach because of these damn headphones.

And I should care about that; really, I should.

The threat of getting caught should scare me into pulling away from him. But it feels too good to be wrapped in his arms, and the demanding strokes of his fingers are too damn delicious. I don’t want to deny myself.

Brady breaks the kiss and turns us more fully toward the lake and the display above us, shielding my body with his as he tilts my head upward and rests his chin on my shoulder.

As the first few Fourth of July fireworks light up the sky, painting the blackness of night with a vibrant display of color, he coaxes each wave of pleasure from my body as we sway to the beat of the song playing in our ears.

And I don’t think I’ll ever view fireworks the same way again.