High Octane by Lisa Renée Jones

objections. “Here we go. Step. Step. Good. One, two, three. Just follow me, and keep your spine stiff. Step. Step. One, two, three.” His hand slid to her backside. “Don’t shake that cute little butt of yours. Not for the two-step. Better. Good.”
    â€œI am so not good at this.”
    â€œYou are doing great.”
    â€œBecause you are really, really good at this,” she said. “You’re doing it for me.”
    â€œHad a lot of years of practice,” he said, gently guiding her.
    â€œIn the jungles or the deserts?”
    â€œYou’d be surprised at where a little piece of Texas shows up,” he said.
    The music shifted to a slow Keith Urban song. The mood shifted with it, the air suddenly thicker, charged with an expanding awareness. Ryan closed the small space between them, let his hips guide her movements. His chest was tight, his groin with it. He had no doubt she could feel the hard press of his arousal.
    She was petite and soft, and he wanted nothing more than to strip away the barriers and hold her in his arms. To feel her on every possible intimate level. But he’d given Sabrina the power to control when, how, and if they were ever to make love. Nothing about what had transpired between them today changed that decision. No matter how much he might want it to.
    â€œMaybe this dancing thing isn’t so bad, after all,” she murmured.
    â€œThat a girl,” he offered approvingly. “Before you know it, I’ll have you jumping out of a plane.”
    â€œOh, no,” she said quickly. “That idea was a momentary bleep of insanity that I won’t be having again anytime soon.”
    They’d shifted into a slow sway, barely a dance. “Something made you think you wanted to skydive.”
    Her lashes lowered, her answer coming slowly. “It’s complicated.”
    â€œAh,” he said. “Complicated. That’s what you said to Calista. In other words…you don’t want to talk about it.”
    She stopped moving, her expression animated, distressed. The lights were dim, but he could see the flush across her cheeks. “No,” she said. “That’s not what I meant, Ryan. I don’t mind talking to you. In fact, you’re easy to talk to. The truth is…I thought I was a control freak. I thought jumping out of a plane would teach me to let go, to just live a bit. Or Jennifer thought it would.”
    â€œAnd now you’ve changed your mind?” he asked, his hand covering hers where it rested on his chest.
    â€œYes,” she said. “Or no. I don’t know. It’s confusing. I think…” She paused, her delicate brow dipping in consideration, before she continued, “I think I just need to feel like my decisions are my own. That the control I have is not conceived from a need to stay within certain boundaries. I wish I could be more like you. Without boundaries, without fear of what might go wrong.” Her fingers curled on his chest, her chin lifting as she stared up at him, vulnerability and insecurity in her eyes, but her voice didn’t falter. “I want you to show me what it feels like to let go, Ryan. I want you to…” A knock sounded on the door. Loudly. Over and over.
    Silently Ryan cursed, hanging on her words. She wanted him to what? Another knock. Damn it.
    â€œThat would be the kid next door who always knocks as though there is a fire or something,” she explained, the moment lost as her tone turned matter-of-fact. Gone was the soft, wistful tone of seconds before. She grimaced. “I don’t know how I thought he was you when you were you.”
    Ryan frowned. “What?”
    â€œNothing,” she said, waving off the question. “He’s persistent. Let me go buy his candy and send him on his way.” She pushed to her toes and kissed Ryan. “Don’t forget where we were.”
    Trying to escape, she didn’t get