You’d been giving Soap private lessons for a month now at your dance studio. He’d said it was for a mate’s wedding—best man duties, needed to look like he knew what he was doing. You’d agreed, half expecting a soldier with the rhythm of a brick wall. But he learned fast. Too fast.

He was waiting for you now, leaning against the barre in a fitted navy t-shirt and gray sweats. His reflection caught your eye before he did. The sharp cut of his jaw, the hint of a grin that said he’d been watching you in the mirror too.

“Thought we’d try the full song tonight,” you said, forcing professionalism into your voice.

“Aye,” he replied, crossing the room toward you, every step calculated. “Best make sure I don’t embarrass myself in front o’ the bride, eh?”

You offered your hand. He took it, rough palm against yours, warm and steady. When his other hand settled at the small of your back, your breath hitched, just slightly, but he noticed.

“Relax,” he murmured, voice low enough to brush your skin. “I’m only followin’ orders.”

The song kicked in, warm and rhythmic, the kind that demanded you stay close to keep the pace. You moved together, his movements hesitant at first, then smoother, guided by instinct rather than instruction. You felt the drag of his fingertips through the thin fabric tracing down your spine, the steady rhythm of his breath aligning with yours.

Halfway through, he faltered. Not from clumsiness but because he’d pulled you in too close. His palm slid along the curve of your hip. The line of your bodies, the proximity, the way his back muscles shifted, the faint sheen of sweat on his temple. His gaze trained not on his steps but on you.

You saw it all multiplied in those damn mirrors, different versions of the same closeness. The reflection blurred the line between what was real and what might happen if neither of you stepped away.

“Ye keep starin’ at the mirrors,” he said softly, a teasing edge that didn’t hide the heat beneath it. “They that distractin’?”

“You’re not supposed to talk right now,” you managed.

He chuckled under his breath, a deep sound that vibrated against you. “Aye, but if I don’t, I’ll start thinkin’ about other things, hen.”

Your pulse thundered in your neck, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to step back or close the distance.