I narrow my eyes. What he thinks shouldn’t matter. He’s a stranger. And yet …
“It’s just a dance.”
Decision made.
I place my hand in his, and he swiftly guides me to the dance floor. I try to hide my stumble once we begin but the small smirk on his face shows that he saw it. Still, he’s gentleman enough not to point it out.
My movements are jerky. I wish I could blame it on the alcohol but I know that’s not the case.
“Easy, butterfly,” he coos as his hand moves to my hip, pulling me in closer, but not too close to be inappropriate or uncomfortable.
I glance up into his eyes, mine widening at the new name he’s donned me with.
“Feel that?”
“What?” I ask.
“The rhythm. Salsa timing is on counts of four. Step with me.” He takes a step back with his right foot, urging me to step forward with my left. “Now take a step with the back foot in place.”
I follow this instruction as well.
“Now reverse it.”
I step backwards with my right foot and he follows with his left. Our bodies aren’t touching except for our hands but they’re moving in sync.
“Don’t look at the floor. Look at me,” a command, further enforced when he lifts my chin to stare into his eyes.
Why does he do that? Because as soon as he pins me with his gaze, I lose my rhythm and stumble backwards. But his strong arms are there, preventing me from getting too off balance.
Wordlessly, he moves my hands to his shoulders and lowers his to my hips, our gazes still locked on one another.
“That’s it. You’ve got it now.”
I almost drop my gaze to look down at the front of my dress, hoping that my nipples aren’t poking through because between his hold, his gaze, and his words I am completely turned on. The rest of the people on the dance floor fall away and it’s just him and I. Not once does he look away from me, nor I him. We’re the only two out here. I hardly notice when the song changes to another, and then another. Only when someone bumps into us on the dance floor, breaking our concentration on one another, do I notice that we’re not actually alone.
I spot a flash of anger in his eyes when he narrows his gaze on the man who’s just knocked into us.
Withdrawing my hands from his shoulders, I decide to head back to the table to see if I can spot the women I came with.
“Would you like a drink?” he questions before I can turn around.
I hesitate but then shake my head. “I don’t take drinks from strangers.”
A dark eyebrow raises. “Are we still strangers? I’ll have to change that.”
My heart rate quickens at the promise in his eyes. He moves closer and parts his lips to say something, but just then Rose appears.
“Hey, we’re about to head out. Early morning flight, and I still need to pack up.”
“I, uh, what time is it?”
“It’s almost two.”
I blink.
“I can take you back to your hotel.”
I turn to the man in front of me.
