Hell, she made him hot. And he couldn't have her. Damn.
The fast music ended and a slow tune started playing. He took advantage of it and pressed her against him with a firm arm around her waist.
Kris curved her arms around his neck, her body soft and yielding against his.
Fuck. She felt good. He felt his loins stir as he danced intimately with her.
"Do you like dancing, Trey?" Kris asked, her breath tickling his ear.
His chest heaved. Did she want a literal or a metaphorical answer?
"Depends on what you mean by 'dancing'," he answered huskily, brushing away a strand of blond hair that strayed to her face.
She let out a low, sexy laugh. "I mean dancing as in actual dancing—not sex."
"Oh. No, I don't. Except for right now."
"Oh? What makes 'right now' different?" she asked, her arms tightening around his neck, her body pressing closer to his.
Was she giving him a hint? A come-on? Was he under consideration again? He wouldn't mind that at all!
He licked his lips and smiled. "You're an excellent dance partner, and it's incredibly arousing dancing with you," he said. Not that he had to draw her attention to his excited member. It was quite obviously hard against her.
Kris leaned back and scrunched her face cutely. "You're still out of the game, even if I'm flirting with you while your you-know-what is poking my belly."
He laughed out loud, even as disappointment pricked him. "But why? I think we'd have a great time together."
"That's the problem. We might have too great a time. I think you're dangerous, Trey Andrews," she said openly.
He gaped at her, trying to determine her meaning. Was she saying she could easily fall for him if they slept together? He sighed. He wasn't being egotistical, but there were enough girls in his past who'd said they were only after sex and ended up chasing him for a relationship.
He couldn't have that. A few years ago, he'd been too trusting of a particular woman and found himself taken for a ride. He'd learned his lesson. Now, his chosen lifestyle—the bachelor lifestyle—suited him to a tee. He had no plans of giving it up.
He still let himself be seduced by beautiful women, though. He was a full-blooded male, after all. But he was careful enough—and, he'd like to think, considerate enough—to let them know he wasn't interested in anything beyond casual.
So Kris was right. He wouldn't want her falling for him at all. Better not go there.
"Okay," he said. "It's loud and clear. You and I won't be having sex. Right?"
"Right," Kris agreed.
"Great," he said, ignoring the deflation he suddenly felt. "Let's go back to the topic of dancing—real dancing. Dylan mentioned you guys took some lessons for the bridal waltz. Where did you go?"
Kris chuckled. "I taught everyone."
His eyebrows arched. "You taught everyone?"
"Yes. I'm a part-time dance teacher at a Melbourne dance studio."
"That explains a lot," he said with admiration. "You do dance like a pro."
"Thanks," she said with a smile. "But the guys were excellent students. We only had a handful of sessions and they got the steps pretty quickly."
"If I were in that bridal party, you would have had a harder time. I don't think you could teach me how to dance like that in one hundred lessons," he said self-deprecatingly.
"Oh, but you underestimate my teaching skills!" she teased. "Let's have a bet on this."
"What do you mean?"
"I bet I can teach you how to dance well in a few lessons. By the time I have to go back home to Melbourne, you'll be a good enough dancer that you could be the centre of attention on any dance floor."
He snorted in disbelief. "Me become a good dancer in three weeks? Yeah, right."
"Prove me wrong then," she challenged.
He smiled. This could be fun. "Okay. I bet I'll be the first guy who fails your class."
"I bet you'll pass with flying colours," Kris answered.
"What does the winner of this bet get?" he asked.
Kris grinned. "If I win, you take me to a nice dinner. If you win, meaning you're still a crap dancer in three weeks, I'll take you dancing—where you will have the wonderful opportunity to dance solo in front of an audience."
"Hang on a minute. That doesn't sound right," he said in confusion. "If you lose and I still have two left feet by the time you go home, my prize for winning the bet is to dance solo in front of people?"
"That's right. That would ensure you work hard and not pretend you're not learning even though you are."
"Why would I want to win, then?"
"Exactly. That's why I should win."