Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(88)

Erik stepped close and took her hand, turning her to him.

“I’m not a very skillful dancer,” Syria said, wishing she could wipe her clammy palms on something, but it was too late.

“Just follow my lead.” His hand came around her to rest low on her back. He did not bring her in close, but left a few inches between them, his arms in a firm frame.

The room was small, but Erik used every square foot in a sweeping waltz that moved in a fluid circle, keeping them within the confines of the walls. Syria felt no struggle at all in his arms as he guided her. He somehow managed to subtly communicate to her which direction to go and what step to take.#p#分页标题#e#

He looked down at her, smiling and easy, and Syria let her tension melt. How easy it could be just to let someone else guide your life, especially someone wealthy and handsome and so good at it.

The music slowed down and Erik pulled her into him so that the length of their bodies touched. Still, his legs directed her as they danced in graceful quarter turns. Syria felt positively light.

His hand caressed her arm now, and while she was aware that his seduction of her was beginning, she let it come. They were in public, the curtain wasn’t even closed now, and she could see what he was like. She had no intention of being his slave or even doing the trial, but allowing herself to imagine this lifestyle might be a nice diversion for an evening, especially since all that waited at home was an endless amount of photo work and a tough conversation with Tyson.

Just the thought of him made her tense. Erik must have felt her shift as he took his arms out of the dance frame and brought her in, fingers massaging the back of her neck. They didn’t dance now as much as sway together, feet shifting in small mincing movements.

“Let everything else fall away,” Erik said. “Just live for his moment.”

Syria laid her forehead on his shoulder, letting him work out the tension. She closed her eyes, just for a moment, even as his hands moved down her shoulder blades, curling to her waist, and squeezing her rib cage perilously close to her breasts.

The music wound around them like a ribbon, haunting and slow. Erik’s thumb moved up, sliding against the bottom of the swells and Syria stopped dancing, holding still. “I can’t do that,” she whispered.

“I won’t press you,” he said into her ear. Then they were moving again, dancing with normal steps, out of their alcove and into the main room, which was in the process of being transformed. The dinner tables were wheeled away, other than the ones on the periphery. No one ate any longer, but sat at tables or danced in front of the small orchestra.

Erik led her to the center of the empty space as Syria tried to look around. “I didn’t know it became a different sort of place.”

“Many restaurants convert into dance clubs. In New York, there are many famous ones.”

“Do they have to kick out all the diners?”

“Generally reservations are only give to those who know how the restaurant will transition.”

Additional musicians were arriving and taking seats, a saxophone, trumpet, and trombone. More of the couples were coming to the dance floor. Syria relaxed again. This was going to be fine.

The new instruments jumped in, and the music began to speed up. Erik led her into a more riotous dance, and Syria found she could just let go and have fun with it.

Some of the other couples were full-on swing dancing, waving their hands and rolling in and out. A few were quite good, going up in the air or spinning around their partners.

“Wow,” Syria said. “I had no idea something like this was so close.”

Erik spun her out to the end of his arm and reeled her back in. Syria felt her hair falling a little loose, but had to laugh. She hadn’t been so lighthearted in a long time.

After a minute, the music began to slow again, and now the sax player stepped forward for a sexy solo that made Syria swallow hard. She felt it piercing her, poking holes in her resolve as Erik pressed in behind her so she could watch the man play. His arms crossed her waist, and his hands splayed across her belly in an embrace that felt protective and secure.

Syria closed her eyes. She wanted to drink more, to just get lost in this. Erik’s body shifted with hers, back and forth in a gentle rocking motion. He held her hard against his hips, his mouth near her ear. “I can’t keep my hands off you,” he said. “But I will not do anything you do not want.”

Syria said nothing, moving easily to his rhythm, letting the music flow through her. She opened her eyes and realized the other couples were also locked in tight, many of them moving suggestively against each other as the room grew gently dimmer and the chandelier light switched to red.