Free Biting Oz: Biting Love, Book 5 by Mary Hughes Page A

ass-end into Glynn. I stumbled, would have fallen had not Glynn caught me—again. I blushed at how clumsy I was around this hard, sexy male, both tongue and feet. At least this time he grabbed waist, which was less intimate than breasts.
    Or so I thought until my butt landed against his hips and his big, warm hand splayed over my stomach, covering my whole stomach. A bright bolt of need shot through me.
    With a clap of hands, Dumas spun away. “Pair up, pair up.” He pranced center stage, heading for Mishela.
    “Mine!” Gollum-like Steve darted in and grabbed for her wrist.
    Glynn growled, low and not quite human, eerily like the animal last night. Pressed to him, I felt him tense to leap. Big, muscular Glynn, stick-thin Steve. This would be bad.
    But before Glynn could jump, Julian Emerson seized Mishela’s wrist out from under Steve’s bony fingers. Julian drew her to the slim guy in patched jeans and a straw hat who was the Scarecrow, Jon Wise. Jon smiled adoringly at her.
    Steve pouted.
    Behind me, Glynn tensed more. He didn’t seem to like the idea of Mishela with Jon either. I tried to diffuse the situation. “Jon’s a star. Besides, how much trouble can he cause in the middle of a crowd?”
    Glynn only growled, real animal this time. It jacked me straight, which rubbed my bottom against him. His growl cut off as he jacked straight too. And something else jacked stiff.
    I’m not totally inexperienced, so I recognized the blooming in his jeans. What I didn’t recognize was the size. What, did he have a pneumatic XL sock? An inflatable, deluxe rubber raft? I deliberately tried to come up with the least arousing comparisons I could because, sweet lord, Glynn’s XL—make that XXL—nestled warm and snug into my bottom like coming home.
    Speaking of coming home…he rubbed his cheek against my hair and murmured, “You’re right, babi . Sometimes I become too distrustful. Thank you.” He curled close.
    I leaned automatically into his warmth. If I had the comfort of this strong male to come home to every night, it might almost be worth giving up dreams…ring me up as produce. Warts, picking teeth, professional distance, none of it seemed to work with him. I had to get away—
    “Face your partner. Mirrors, everyone.” Dumas zoomed in and twisted me in Glynn’s arms, making escape impossible. Damn him. I wasn’t sure if I meant Dumas or Glynn.
    The director flitted from pair to pair, a shrimp-pink butterfly with lime peel wings. “One person moves. The other matches it. Try to anticipate your partner. Come on, people, I want to see some synergy here.”
    I put space between me and Glynn, trying to lower my blood pressure, but my eyes landed automatically on his fly and I coughed, waved a hand at his portable power tool. “I don’t think I can mirror that.”
    He blew air. “Just do the exercise. Let’s not make this difficult. I’ll follow you.”
    His eyes didn’t follow me. His gaze was over my head, on Mishela.
    That cooled me off like nothing else could have. I was trying not to be interested, but I was a moderately good-looking female. Couldn’t he at least give me a courtesy ogle?
    “I don’t need to look at you.” He growled it, a man-growl this time.
    “What?”
    “You pouted because I’m looking at Mishela instead of you, but that’s my job. Besides, I don’t need to look at you to want you. You’re burned into my memory.”
    “I never pout. It’s not professional.”
    “You do. And it’s adorable.”
    “I don’t—huh?” Adorable? He was sweet as well as sexy? Here was a man who might be worth giving up duty and rainbows…spank me with a sackbut.
    Other pairs were doing a sort of mime-in-box thing. I held up one hand, flat like I was pressing it to a mirror, and circled it. Time to get some mental space too. “Hey, how many viola players does it take to make a batch of chocolate chip cookies?”
    Glynn matched his palm to mine and followed me effortlessly. Without