Dexter hurries over to a drinks cabinet in the corner. "I've got some mineral water in here. Let me get that for you, Maddie."
He digs around inside the cabinet until he finds a glass bottle full of clear liquid. Hustling back to us, he hands the water to her. "Small sips, dear."
She heeds his advice, taking dainty sips until her coughing subsides. "Thank you for the offer, Dex, but I'm good."
Our host smirks again, his eyes twinkling with humor. "You mean Richard is good. Glad to hear it. I can't stand to see a woman whose passion goes unexplored, like a secret map that no man dares to read."
A secret map? Maddie's body is not a secret to me. I know every millimeter of it by heart.
Dexter looks at me. "Would you mind if I dance with your lover?"
"She's my date for tonight. The rest is none of your concern." I set my plate on the table. "And it's Maddie's choice whether she dances with you, not mine."
The woman in question leans in to whisper in my ear, "Sure you won't be jealous if I do? He strikes me as the hold-her-close kind of dance partner."
"I'm not jealous," I hiss out of the corner of my mouth. "Dance with whoever you want."
"Might be good for your business deal if I indulge him a little, but I'd much rather twirl around the room in your arms."
She smiles, squeezes my thigh, and tells Dexter, "I'd love to take a spin with you."
He rises and winks at her. "I love to dip women—deeply. Get a much better view of their tits that way."
Dexter grabs a remote control off the table and clicks buttons until a waltz begins to play through the speakers in the corner. He offers Maddie his hand. She accepts it, and they walk to the open area past the coffee table. Together, they assume the standard, genteel ballroom stance that keeps their hands in plain sight. They dance like that for about thirty seconds.
Then he pulls her snug against his body and slides his hand down to her arse.
Oh yes, he's a cheeky codger for sure.
Chapter Thirteen
Maddie
Dexter twirls me around in the small area in which we dance. Despite the fact he has his palm on my ass and I'm crushed against his body, he dances like a gentleman—elegant and courteous, never dragging me across the floor, but always leading the way. He's a superb dancer, but the whole time we're waltzing, I keep wondering what it would feel like to dance with Rick like this. Does he know how to waltz? I don't, so I'm faking it by following Dex's lead.
He might be a dirty-minded senior citizen, but he's also a sweet man. He genuinely seems to care if Richard and I have good sex. I've decided that's his way of expressing his belief that we make a good couple.
Do we? I think so, but I have no idea what Rick thinks.
As the beautiful music winds down, Dexter dips me. Deeply, just like he swore he would. But he's not ogling my boobs. He's smiling at Richard.
"Your turn, Rick," our host says. "I bet you'll dip her thoroughly tonight, won't you?"
I can't see Richard, since I have my head tipped backward away from that part of the room. I hope he's not annoyed that I called him Rick in front of Dexter, who now loves to use that nickname. Richard accepted our host's offer to call him Dex, so I'm guessing he'll be okay with the Rick thing.
Dex pulls me up out of the dip and steps away from me, holding my hand up. "Get over here and claim her, Rick. She's a stimulating partner."
Rick swallows the last of his cognac, clears his throat, and walks over to us.
Dexter grasps Rick's hand, raising it, and places mine in his palm.
"There," Dexter says. "Enjoy holding her against you. She's a treasure. I'll start the music for you."
Our host returns to his chair, grabbing the remote for the stereo.
Richard cautiously lays a hand on my lower back. Once I place my hand on his shoulder, the music starts up. Another waltz. He whirls me around and around, his gaze capturing mine, his lips curved in a subdued smile. I love the sensation of his hand on my back, and I wish he'd take a cue from Dexter and slide that hand lower to cup my bottom. I didn't mind when Dex did that, but I'd love for Rick to touch me that way.
He doesn't, though. He keeps a small gap between us and keeps his hands right where they're supposed to be.