Текст книги "Transcending Darkness"
Автор книги: Airicka Phoenix
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“Juliette?” Concern tightened his fingers on her as he pulled her into his chest. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
I love you. Jesus Christ.I’m in love with you.
How the hell had that happened? When had that happened? How had she not noticed sooner? Better question, how was she going to keep him from finding out?
Chapter 17
Something was wrong. Killian could feel it every time their eyes met. There was a tremor in her gaze, a flicker of something that kept her from maintaining the contact for more than a second before focusing on something else. Plus she was unnaturally distracted. It worried him far more than he knew what to do with, especially when she refused to tell him so he could fix it.
“Have you changed your mind?” he asked one evening as they lay across the tangled expense of the bed, their damp bodies cooling.
As she so often did now, she had her back to him, which she did the moment he moved off her, as though she couldn’t stand the sight of him.
“About what?” Her voice was barely audible.
“Europe.”
She shook her head. “No, not unless you have.”
He couldn’t stand it anymore. “Juliette.”
She flinched when he touched her. Actually flinched. It was such a slap that he could only sit there with his hand outstretched, his mind torn with disbelief and a swelling of hurt.
“I need the washroom,” she whispered, already scrambling out of bed with the sheets and hurrying across the room.
What had he done? He couldn’t think of a single thing. Had he hurt her? Wouldn’t she tell him if he had? Was he asking for too much of her time? Did she need a rest? None of it made sense, because Juliette had never bottled up her feelings when she was angry with him or if he’d done something wrong. She had always been open and honest about everything. It made no sense why she was pulling away from him.
The bathroom door opened and she emerged. Dressed. He hadn’t even seen her take her clothes with her.
“Juliette?” He sat up.
“I have some work to do at home,” she whispered. “But I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Juliette!” Her name snapped out of him in a warning growl before she could reach the door. “What is going on with you?”
“Nothing. I told you—”
“Bullshit.” He threw himself off the bed and got to his feet. He made his way to where she stood, back rigid. “You’ve been running from me for days and I want to know why.” He softened his voice. “Have I hurt you?”
He saw her fingers draw into tight fists at her sides. Her head lowered even as it rocked from side to side.
“No.”
He barely heard her.
“Then what is it?” Carefully, terrified she’d flinch at his touch a second time, he took her arm and turned her slowly towards him. “Tell me.”
“I’ve just been tired,” she murmured, talking to her feet. “I’ll do better.”
“Stop it!” He gave her a gentle shake. “You know the only thing I care about is you.”
Her chin lifted and he was sucker punched by the tears glistening in her eyes. There was raw agony shining beneath the gold that wrenched through him. His first instinct was to shake her again until she told him what the matter was. Instead, he found his fingers moving to frame her face.
“Do I need to kill someone?”
He’d meant it as a joke—partially. He’d hoped it would make her laugh. But her face crumpled. She jerked out of his hands and ran for the door. Then she was gone before he could even wrap his head around what he’d done wrong.
There was no sleep for him that night. Never mind that he didn’t have her to lull him into unconsciousness, but couldn’t stop seeing her face, the pain trembling along her bottom lip. Over and over he’d gone over every moment of the last few days, dissecting everything they’d done together and coming up with nothing. Their love making … sex, damn it. Their sex had been as per usual. Since Halloween, he hadn’t surprised her with anything overly new. He still made sure he took care to be reasonably gentle, to not let the beast get too carried away. But the question remained.
Sleep a mere illusion, he slipped out of bed and padded from the room. The corridor lights had been dimmed, but he knew the way down with his eyes closed. A deep sort of silence echoed through the place, the kind that demanded things he couldn’t provide. His mother had designed the estate with children in mind. Lots and lots of children. She had always wanted a huge family, but could only have Killian. Her hopes had been that he would wind up giving her an army of grandchildren. Instead, he refused to give her even one. But she would understand. After what became of her and his father, she would know why it was important the McClary name died with him. Smith’s attack was the perfect example. It might have been small in the scheme of things, but it was an attack inside Killian’s home. Had he had a wife and children, had his men not been able to handle the situation … the very thought of them coming to harm drenched him in cold sweat.
No. People like him didn’t deserve a family. They didn’t get a future. The most he could ask for was a kiss of happiness, a whisper of warmth to ease a cold existence. That happened to be Juliette. She was his one taste of peace. There would be none after her. How could there be when the thought of letting her go had become a fear worse than any nightmare he’d ever had? How could any woman ever possibly take that place? He loved her. Juliette had left him no choice. She had crashed into his world like a beautiful storm and disrupted everything. He could admit it to himself in the dark recess of his own mind. He had only ever loved one other woman, but he knew what it was even if it was completely different.
The conservatory doors opened with no effort. The hinges creaked on the weather worn frame. Stone slabs cut cold strips into the bottoms of his bare feet as he followed their path deeper into the darkness. Humidity clung to his skin, strangling the air in his lungs, but it was a familiar sort of pain, one he had visited often when sleep had become an elusive ghost.
Like his mother’s garden, the conservatory held no rhythm or reason. There was no order other than the path that delved deeper into the madness. She had wanted a jungle, a beautiful chaos of colors and that was what she had created. Killian couldn’t name even half of the blooms and foliage. They all looked the same to him. But he made certain nothing ever changed. Not a single plant. His father had done the same, except for the dais erected in the very heart of it all. The pedestal Killian visited on nights the world was caving in on him.
Pale fingers of light drifted down from the glass dome overhead to shower over the twin silver pots. It shone along the rims and spiked off the gold knobs on the lids. Killian lowered himself down on the only chair in the place and looked up at what was left of the parents who had given their lives for his.
“Hi Mom.” He lowered his chin and peered down at his fingers hanging uselessly between his knees. “I know I promised to bring Juliette the next time I came, but that might not happen. I think she’s had all she can of me. Not surprised, honestly. A woman like her wants forever and a man she can be assured a future with. I can only give her a year and that’s too much.” He scrubbed an agitated palm over his face and back through his hair. “It was a mistake keeping her. It was wrong of me to think … I was selfish. Now she’s going to walk away and I … I’ll have nothing.”
Seconds closed as he tried to picture what he’d do when she ultimately walked out the door and never came back. Every day was one day less in their contract, one day closer to the end. It was only a matter of time when he would wake up to an empty bed and be alone forever.
“You’d’ve liked her,” he told the concrete space between his feet. “Damn temper of hers would have made you proud.” A soft chuckle escaped him. “And God she’s a stubborn woman. Not a day goes by when I don’t know whether I want to strangle her or kiss her.” His smile slipped. “She’s too good for the likes of me. She’s too innocent and … I’d rather die alone than live without her.”
He fell silent. The last of his words echoed in the muggy stillness. It faded. Then there was nothing, but creeping emptiness; his mother, if she had any advice, said nothing. The urn sat perfectly still on its wooden platform.
He stayed a few more minutes before saying goodbye and returning to the front of the house. Dawn was approaching, painting the sky a soft, pastel pink. The early morning air was chilly with the promise of snow. Killian paid no mind as made his way to the office, still bare foot and topless. He claimed the leather chair behind the desk and waited for Frank.
Chapter 18
There was no shortage to her stupidity, Juliette realized as she busied her hands sorting pens into different pen holders. It wasn’t exactly a necessary job, nobody cared if the red, black and blue were mixed. But it was better than standing at an empty desk, waiting for the day to end so she could fix the monumental shit storm she’d caused.
What the hell was the matter with her? It was the same question she’d asked herself repeatedly since her dramatic fleeing earlier that morning from Killian. Yet no matter how many times the question was asked, she still had no response, except that she was an idiot.
So she loved the guy. Big deal. She wasn’t some stupid hormonal teenager—at least, she wasn’t supposed to act like one. She was a grown woman who knew how to control her damn emotions. So, just because she loved Killian, didn’t mean it had to change anything. It wasn’t like she needed to tell him. It could be her secret, and when the time came to say goodbye, she would, yet again, be a mature individual and … accept that.
Her gut wrenched, but she told it to shut up. Her gaze flicked to the clock on the monitor and she breathed a sigh of relief to see she had five minutes left. Then she’d grab her things and head straight to Killian’s estate where she would apologize and assure him she wasn’t crazy.
Celina arrived promptly at six. She stalked straight past Juliette like she hadn’t seen her and disappeared into the host room behind the desk. Juliette rolled her eyes, but made no mention of it as she turned and followed, not to make conversation, but to grab her things.
The host room was a much smaller version of the staff room. It was a closet sized bit of space with a square table, two chairs and a row of six lockers. Celina was at hers, hastily shoving her coat and purse inside. Juliette moved to the one at the very end, near the wall and removed her own coat and purse. The two finished their business without sharing a single word or glance. Celina had made it perfectly clear that she did not trust Juliette. That it was clear she was obviously sleeping with someone very important if she was able to keep her job after the official letter Celina had written to Harold, which had gone ignored. Juliette didn’t give a shit.
She threw on her coat and marched from the room. She paused briefly to toss the master keys out of her pocket onto the table before making her way through the foyer.
Frank met her at the doors, a garment bag tossed carefully over one beefy arm. The sight of him had her automatically darting excited glances behind him, searching for the face she could never get out of her head. But he wasn’t there. Neither was Jake or Melton.
“Mr. McClary has sent me to escort you, ma’am,” Frank said coolly. “He wishes for you to join him for the evening.”
Juliette faced the man. “Join him where?”
Frank held out the bag. “A place of his choosing, ma’am. He asks that you wear this.”
Bemused, she took the hanger gingerly and glanced towards the bathroom. But rather than follow directions, she looked to Frank again.
“Who’s watching him, Frank?”
“He is perfectly safe where he is,” Frank assured her.
Juliette wasn’t so sure, after all, his home was supposed to be safe and yet someone had managed to hurt him there.
The doubt must have shown on her face because his face softened. “I would not have left him otherwise.”
Still unsure, but deciding not to waste time arguing about it, Juliette hurried to the bathroom. She locked herself up in one of the cubicles and began to undress.
There were shoes with the elegant, burgundy gown, strappy, silver things with five inches of heel. She pulled it all on before teetering her way out of the stall towards the mirror.
The Grecian gown was gorgeous with a single bunched bit of fabric over one shoulder and a sweetheart neckline. The chiffon material flowed from the cinched waist down in a flurry of shimmery movement. With the silver heels, it was absolutely stunning.
Needing to show off the cluster of diamonds pinned to the sash over her shoulder, she scooped up her hair and dug through her purse for the small Ziploc of hair things she kept inside. She pinned and fastened the blonde strands in a messy knot that left tendrils framing her face. She applied a fresh coat of makeup next before stuffing her old clothes into the garment bag and leaving to find Frank.
She didn’t need to go far. He was waiting for her right outside the door.
He bowed his head once before taking the items from her.
“This way.”
She followed him outside in the frigid November evening. Her gaze swung up as they crossed the parking lot to the SUV. The heavens were clear, but she knew it was only a matter of time before they were buried beneath a thick layer of snow.
“Where are we going, Frank?” she asked as he opened the back door for her.
“It’s not far,” was his smooth response.
Knowing better than to push, she slipped into the seat and watched him close the door behind her. He circled around and got behind the wheel.
He hadn’t been lying about not going far. The drive couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. When they stopped, he left the car idling as a short, beaming man hurried to open the door for her.
“Miss Romero?”
Juliette nodded.
The man’s smile widened. “I’m Vince. Mr. McClary has asked me to take you inside.”
Her gaze swept past the man to the building. It wasn’t anything special, a squat, brick building in the middle of the warehouse district of town. But she let herself get helped out of the car.
“Frank, can I leave my purse with you?” she asked.
From behind the wheel, Frank inclined his head. “Yes ma’am.”
Thanking him, she followed Vince through a set of metal doors. They opened in a cramped little stairway stained with graffiti and grime. It was not the sort of place she would have chosen to wear such a lovely dress, but Killian must have had a reason.
“This way.”
Vince motioned her to follow him to the metal steps and up. There was three flights before the top. Juliette was breathless by the time they reached the green door at the top.
Vince beamed. Without a word, he jerked the door open and stepped aside for her to go in first.
Candles, dozens upon dozens of candles illuminated every square inch of loft space. Fairy lights twisted around wooden beams and ran rampant in loops from the rafters. In the center of it all, closed in from all sides by white, gauze drapes, sat an elegantly set table for two equipped by two long stemmed candles and delicate china.
Of all the things she’d expected, this was not it.
“You look gorgeous.”
Startled, Juliette turned. Behind her, breathtaking in a black suit, Killian offered her a crooked smile that made her heart trip. His thick, wavy locks were swept off his brow and combed back to leave his freshly shaven face open. The ends curled over the crisp collar of his blazer. Beneath it, his shirt was a blinding white, a sharp contrast to the slash of silky black running down his chest to the gold buckle holding up his trousers. He reminded her of a model straight off the glossy pages of GQ.
“You look pretty nice yourself,” she choked out, inexplicably breathless. She moistened her lips. “What is all this?”
He moved towards her in slow, even strides. His hands found their way into the depths of his trouser pockets. His dark eyes shimmered beneath the flickering candlelight.
“I thought we’d try something different tonight. If that’s all right with you?”
While she liked going home to him and letting him work the stress out of every muscle in her body, a girl could hardly say no to a secret candlelight dinner.
“Oh, I’m sure I can manage,” she said, offering him a teasing grin. Her smile softened and she reached for him. Her palm settled on the soft material of his blazer, just over his heart. “This is incredible. Thank you.”
His hand closed over hers, swallowing her fingers as he drew her closer. “I merely oversaw the process.”
She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. You could have just as easily taken us to a restaurant. There are a hundred fancy ones all over the city. Instead you did this.” She looked over the room, still in absolute awe of its beauty. “I love it so much.”
His eyes darkened. His fingers tightened around hers.
“Good.”
He led her to the table and drew out her chair. He waited until she was properly seated before rounding to his side.
Juliette waited until he was facing her before blurting the question that had been plaguing her.
“Is this because of this morning?” His eyes lowered, the only sign she needed to confirm her theory. “I promise that won’t happen again. I am honestly so sorry for—”
“No,” he cut in softly. “Don’t be sorry. I haven’t been very fair to you and that’s my fault.”
Juliette blinked. “What do you mean?”
He raised his gaze and fixed them on her face. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to talk about anything upsetting this evening. I just want to enjoy you.”
A smile tugged on her heart. “I’m all for you enjoying me.” She propped her elbows on the table, threaded her fingers together and perched her chin on her knuckles. “Tell me about your day.”
Killian leaned back in his chair. “I did some work. Made some calls. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
Juliette narrowed her eyes. “And somewhere between the working and call making, you put this together and bought me an amazing dress, which I absolutely love.”
His lips quirked. “It’s an all right dress. You make it beautiful.”
Juliette laughed. “Are you trying to charm me into your bed, Mr. McClary? Because I have to warn you, I have a very long list of suitors vying for my affections.”
One dark eyebrow lifted in amusement. “Have you now?”
“Worried?” she teased.
His grin was slow and brutally arrogant. “Ah darling, not at all. Your body will always belong to me. No other man will ever make it come apart the way I do.”
Her body gave a shiver in agreement. All amusement becoming a hot, sticky rush of liquid soaking her panties. Her clit throbbed in longing.
He smirked with all the knowing grace of a man fully aware of his effect on his woman.
Juliette swallowed audibly. “You don’t play fair.”
He leaned forward and lowered his voice to that gravelly purr that drove her crazy. “You don’t like it when I play fair. You like it when I’m dirty and rough. You like it when I rip off your panties, bend you over and fuck you until you can’t walk for a week, or when I put my fingers deep inside your wet little pussy and make you scream. That’s how you like me.”
It was true. Fuck being fair. She lived for the nights when he tortured her mindless, when he had her so worked up she was certain she’d die if he didn’t end the suffering. There was nothing fair or loving about those nights. It was all a brutal battle of hot, sweaty bodies colliding with one goal in mind—to fuck each other into exhaustion.
“Well, that can go both ways,” she croaked out, willing her body to calm down before she upended the table to get to him. “I recall you begging a few times.”
“I won’t deny it, I am addicted to your pussy.”
A second ticked.
Juliette laughed. “God, we sound like a pair of sex maniacs.”
He drew in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “Only with you, love. Only ever with you.”
Heart giving an undignified flip in her chest, Juliette started to open her mouth when a rumble filled the vast space around them. The sound tore her away from the deep yearning coiling deep inside her. Her head whipped around just in time to see the cargo elevator gate slide open and a stout little man hurry out pushing a silver cart. He bustled over, bowed low first to her, then to Killian. Without a word, he removed the dome off the tray, revealing two steaming plates, both holding the same sized slabs of filet mignon with a side order of asparagus. The dishes were set in front of them. The man bowed again and hurried away as quickly as he’d come.
“Thank you!” She called after him, but he was already lost behind the sliding door. She turned her attention forward and found Killian watching her quietly. She offered him a small smile. “This looks delicious,” she murmured, needing to break the silence that had sweltered around them as hot and thick as a balmy July heatwave.
She picked up her knife and fork and cut into the tender meat. The silverware across from her clinked as they were lifted, but not utilized. She popped a bit of meat into her mouth and almost moaned as the seasoned flavor exploded across her tongue in a juicy rush. It took all her restraint not to wolf it all down, screw dignity.
“God, this might actually get you laid!” she blurted.
Killian laughed. “Well, as much as I would like to take credit, I can’t say I had much hand in its preparation.”
“Killian?” Juliette lifted her face. “Can I ask you something?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
“Where’s your sister?” she asked.
“Maraveet isn’t exactly my sister,” he corrected. “She’s more of a self-appointed pain in my ass.”
Juliette chuckled. “Got one of those too, eh?”
Killian snorted. “Our moms were best friends so I was always forced to play with her. Tea parties and dress up … it was a bloody nightmare.”
She had to bite back her laugh. “Not into tea parties and dress up?”
Dark eyes flicked to hers, narrowed with annoyance and a shimmer of amusement. “I think my hatred of tea and frilly dresses stemmed from those hot summer afternoons.”
The laughter burst out of her in a roar she had to stifle behind her hand. The other went to her stomach as her body bowed forward.
“It’s not funny,” he grumbled, his own mouth twitching. “She’d parade me around the manor and chatter on about how many handsome gentlemen would ask us to dance at the ball later that evening.”
Juliette sucked in enough air to ask, “There was a ball?”
“Every fucking night.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes like the memory was forever burned behind his eyelids. “She’d bring out all her dolls and sit them around the room, then she’d make me spin her round and round…”
“I like her,” Juliette decided. “She sounds like fun.”
He lowered his hand. “Demanding, spoiled … stubborn. Dear God she was fucking stubborn.” He paused as a thought came to him. “I am forever surrounded by stubborn women.”
“So, where is she?”
Killian shrugged. “Could be anywhere. I got a text from her a few months back from Paris. I might hear from her again in a week or month or year.”
Her smile faded. “You guys aren’t close anymore?”
“Oh, we’re close, but with her line of work, she can’t keep in close contact.” His gaze lowered to the table cloth. “It’s not safe for either of us to be close.”
“That’s so sad,” she whispered, sitting back, food forgotten. “To not be able to ever have a family or anyone you can love. How do you stand it?”
“By not having a family or anyone to love,” he murmured. “This life is a solitary one. There are a few, like our fathers, who think they can cheat their fate. They meet a woman, fall in love, and start a family, but ultimately, it never lasts. Their children become shadows of them and they … they die.”
A tightness filled her throat, making it impossible to breathe. “Where are Maraveet’s parents?”
“They died in a car bombing when she was seven. Maraveet was staying with us, but she was supposed to be with them when it happened.”
“Oh my God…”
“That is why I can’t keep you for longer than a year, Juliette. This alone has put you in more danger than you can possibly imagine, but I needed this, need you, as selfish as that is.”
Pushing back her chair, Juliette got to her feet and walked around to his side of the table. He was already expecting her. His hands closed around her hips and he drew her into his lap. Her arms went around his shoulders.
“Get out,” she whispered into the warm stretch of skin along his neck. “Don’t do this anymore.” She hesitated a full heartbeat before adding in the quietest murmur, “Stay with me.”
His arms around her tightened. His head turned to nuzzle his face into her chest.
“There is no out.” His fingers tightened into her hip even as he burned the words into the soft material of her dress. “There will always be someone who will want what I have and eventually, one day, my luck will run out.”
“Stop it!” The world tore out of her in a strangled growl. “Don’t say that. There has to be a way.” She drew back enough to peer into his eyes, her own filmy with tears. “You just … you need to find it.” She touched the side of his cleanly shaven face. “I can’t lose you, Killian.”
He kissed her, but it was unlike all the other kisses he’d given her in the past. This one was too much like a goodbye that she jerked back. Her hand went to her lips, damp and trembling.
“Don’t do that,” she whispered, voice unusually choked. “Don’t kiss me like you’re saying goodbye.”
For too long, he said nothing. The dark glint continued to play across his features in a knot of light and shadows. Everything about him was light and shadows, she realized. It was what had always called to her. His demons and angels.
“I’ve got something for you,” he said unexpectedly, temporarily distracting her.
Juliette straightened a notch. “What?”
He gently nudged her off his lap and rose with her. He offered her his hand, which she took without hesitance.
“Well, you won’t get it if you keep frowning at me,” he told her as he walked with her backwards away from the table.
“I’m not frowning,” she muttered. “I’m concerned. There’s a difference.”
He stopped and reached for her face. “Your concern has your eyebrows fighting.” He rubbed lightly at the place between her eyebrows with the pad of his thumb, as though attempting to erase the crinkle there. “Come on. Smile for me.”
It was hard to keep a straight face when someone says smile. It was an almost reflexive gesture. Immediately, her face softened and her mouth tilted.
“That’s very nifty trick,” she told him.
“Right?” Grinning, he pulled back. “All right, I’m going to show you how to waltz.”
Juliette laughed. “Waltz? Are we in the seventeen hundreds?” Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know how to waltz?”
“I know many things,” he remarked airily.
“Are you any good?” she wondered as he positioned her across from him.
“I am always good.”
Juliette rolled her eyes. “Of course. All right. How do we start?”
“First, I need one hand here…” He took her left hand and set it on his shoulder. Once properly in place, he dropped his palm to her waist. “And the other here.” He clasped her free hand in his. He positioned them a proper foot width away. “Now, you have to imagine a box on the floor around our feet. It’s big enough for both of us to move easily around in it. When we start, I will move my left foot forward while you move your right foot back. Then we count three beats and move together right.”
“My right or your right?”
“Mine.”
Nodding that she understood, she braced herself.
“Ready? One … Two … three … and back…”
It wasn’t so hard. It was basically line dancing, but in the same four spots, not that it stopped her from stomping on his toe or tripping over her own feet. Killian held her up and patiently guided her through the next step. The whole thing was made a hundred times better by the fact that he kept her laughing. Most of her missteps were due to her inability to keep upright when her body kept doubling over.
“I won’t lie,” Killian said at one point. “You are a horrible dancer.”
“Shut up!” Panting, she wiggled her shoulders and tried to portray a look of confidence that was horribly skewered by the peal of giggles threatening to burst out. “Maybe you’re just a horrible instructor.”
He sniffed indignantly. “Unlikely. I’m a McClary and thus born with the natural graces of a swan.”
There was no stopping the roar that exploded from her. Her head flung back as the sound exploded from deep in her thorax. Tears welled and spilled down her cheeks in a hot stream. Her legs abandoned her to be held up solely by his hands. Against her temple, Killian’s chuckle warmed the skin. It ruffled her hair. His chest rumbled against hers as she sagged into him. At one point, she was no longer even making a sound, just an odd jittering that raked through her entire body.
“Okay…” She wheezed air into her lungs and struggled to straighten. “Okay, teach me that leg curvy thing.”
“Leg curvy thing?”
Wiping her eyes, she nodded. “That thing with the leg going around her partner’s leg.”
He considered this a moment. “I think you’re thinking of ballroom dancing. We’re waltzing.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Show me!”
His eyes narrowed warily. “I don’t know if I want to. You might accidentally kick me in the crotch and I might strangle you.”
She broke out in another fit of giggles at the thought. “I’ll be careful.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he stepped back once he was certain she could stand on her own feet.
“I’ll spin you out, then back in, and when I do, you hook your outer leg around mine.”
Nodding that she understood, she waited for the tug as he spun her out fluidly under his arm. Then, with an equally perfect jerk, he spun her back into his chest. But rather than execute a flawless leg twist, she slammed into him, nearly sending them both to the ground.
“Again!” she demanded. “I almost had it.”
It was his turn to laugh, but he obliged. He even did it slower so she had time, but it wasn’t as easy as it always looked on TV. By the time her head stopped spinning, she’d missed her step, which was another tricky matter entirely. In the end, she never got it and wound up just hooking her leg around his hip for the hell of it without the turns.