My hands wanted to drop my makeshift instruments to touch her hair. Stroke her cheek. Caress her dewy soft skin. Our bodies shifted closer, shoulders brushing together as we played with the rhythm, making up our own little call and response riffs. Her electrifying eyes burned into my soul every time she laughed.
A few of the ladies with flowers in their hair jumped up into the center of the circle.
"Dancing time!" the cinnamon-haired girl said, clapping her hands as the drummers paused so that she could speak.
"Don't be shy – these are simple folk dances. Just follow along as best you can, and have fun."
My eyebrow raised in Brooke's direction. She nodded immediately.
In a flash, we dropped the shakers and walked into the center of the circle. Being completely surrounded by the drums, the beat pulsed differently. Taking Brooke's hand, we followed along with the steps.
I'd never really danced before, but there were several other men who looked equally clumsy, with women who didn't seem to mind one bit.
The next dance had us holding hands, facing each other. As we twirled in slow circles, our fingers entwined, eyes locked on each other. Our breath, our laughter, our movements were all completely in sync. The connection between us was a living, breathing thing.
Everything about Brooke felt natural. Her softness, her lively attitude, her bright smile. Her delight in trying something that some might consider ridiculous.
My experience with dating was limited to some random attempts many years ago. My experience with actually feeling so much and so fast for a woman was nonexistent.
I always used experience to build up my knowledge base. That wouldn’t be possible this time. I was going to have to make Brooke fall for me – a weird inventor who was close to her father's age, who had no idea how to impress a woman – and I was going to have to wing it.
Those plush, pillowy lips tantalized me. Kissing Brooke was all I could think about. My heart started racing as I realized she was using every step to move us closer together.
The dance finished, then a flute player started a melancholy tune. The dancers all grabbed a partner and faced each other, so we followed suit.
My pulse was now that of a frantic rabbit. I tried to study every tiny reaction as my arms slipped around Brooke's waist. Her fingers glided around the back of my neck as we circled in the grass. Then our feet stopped moving.
Even as she seemed to be pulling my mouth to hers, I paused as our lips were almost touching. "Yes?"
"Yes," she breathed.
The sensation of those luscious lips against mine was like lightning through my core. Some long-dormant part of my mind snapped to attention.
I wanted her.
No. Be precise.
I craved her. Hungered. Yearned.
Brooke had to be my girl. We belonged together. She was meant to be mine.
I just had to discover how to be a good, normal partner for her.
3
BROOKE
I’d only kissed a few guys briefly, and it was…nice, but sort of awkward.
Kissing Warrick was like entering another dimension. Somehow he used his entire body to hold me, caress me, warm me, all at once. His hungry mouth pulled me in, blanking my mind until I couldn't remember what life was like when we weren't kissing.
The way he held me close was both protective and incredibly sexy. As if he never wanted to let me go. His tongue teased at the seam of my lips, and as soon as they parted, he tasted me completely.
Thank goodness he was so strong, since my knees were wobbling.
Arousal coursed through my veins, until the only thing I could think about was immediately getting somewhere private, ripping off his shirt and examining the hard body I felt under my palms.
Time stopped as we melted into the kiss. I had no idea how long we stood almost motionless, clutching each other desperately. I didn't realize the music had changed until another couple bumped into us slightly.