But it was Winter’s voice I heard.
“I have a special gift for Michael and Erika,” she said, and I moved a few steps to the right to get a view of her standing in the middle of the dance floor. “Something I hope they’ll find entertaining. But…” she smiled, looking beautiful with her hair piled on top her head. “I hope the lovely couple doesn’t mind—I’m dedicating this to my sister’s new husband.”
What?
And then she moved her head around the room. “Damon?” she called out, making everyone turn their heads in my direction.
“I worked very hard,” she told me. “I hope you like it. You know how much I love Christmas.”
Christmas? The village she wanted out of the basement when she was in high school sprung to mind, and I remembered that she decorated for the holiday the day after Halloween. Which would be soon.
My eyes didn’t leave her as I took a step closer and placed my glass on a tray as the server passed.
She wouldn’t dance for me. Not willingly anyway.
Finding her mark already placed on the dance floor, she settled into a traditional pose, one foot turned out, the other laying behind her, and her arms positioned down, forming a circle.
She never started like that. She always came in already moving, natural and unsophisticated. That was how she danced. Uncivilized. It was what I loved.
The music started, a slow, jazzy guitar sound, the beats all poised and separate. With each string, she moved. Controlled, routine, and trite, a new pose for every chord. Arm out, toe out. Arms up, feet moving from one elementary position to the next. There was no flow. It was like a warm-up.
But then the lyrics started, a deep and raw voice coming out of the sound system, and she popped up on her toes, stepping one foot in front of the other, her body all of a sudden coming to life and slinking from one move to the other.
And that’s when the song registered. You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.
But it was a cover—some bluesy, rock variation—sexy, slow, and taunting.
I clenched my jaw.
Her shoulders rolled, one after the other, and her hips swayed to the music, her eyes closing and her neck bending like a seduction.
The drums kicked in, building up the song, and she jerked her body with every beat. Then she threw her head back, moved her arms, spun around, and rolled her head, pulling the pin holding her hair up, and it all came spilling down around her as the music let go and the singer’s voice cried out its raw rendition.
“Whoo-hoo!” Shouts went off around the room as people started to lose control, and I balled my fists, watching her.
That wasn’t fucking ballet. She may as well be taking her clothes off.
“Oh, hell yeah,” some guy cheered.
“Shit, that’s hot,” another one chimed in.
Motherfucker.
She twirled and stepped, moving like sex and running her hands all over her body, the muscles of her toned thighs visible through the sheer skirt all the way up to her crotch. The leotard left nothing to the imagination. Her hair whipped around, falling in her face, and her lips parted, making her look hot and breathless. My cock warmed with the rush of blood, and I wanted nothing more than to give her the spanking she damn-well deserved out in the car right now.
God.
“Whoo!”
Michael’s fucking basketball player buddies were going wild, and the song choice was not lost on me at all.
You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.
A Christmas song, indeed. And dedicated to me with its nasty lyrics meant to describe me, too.
Clever.
I shot my eyes over to Michael and Kai standing next to each other, both of them laughing and sharing words, enjoying this too much. Michael looked up at me, grinning like he won something, and Kai followed his gaze, laughing again. Winter publicly slighted me, and everyone was loving it.