Looking down at our connecting hands, he let’s go. “You didn’t need to, I can see it all over your face.” My cheeks heat with anger and annoyance. “What do you want, Cameron? Apart fromthat? I was dancing peacefully till you interrupted me. So, what. Do. You. Want?”
His eyes darken and he strides till he’s a couple of inches away from me. “I know I interrupted you. I’ve been watching you since Zoey left to fight with Will. Thanks for that by the way, I’m sure I’ll get an earful of shrieking later.”
I smile. “Happy to oblige.”
We stare at each other, neither one of us willing to be the first to look away. Another pointless challenge. His eyes shift to my lips and I take a step back before he’s able to make a move. “Eres Mía” by Romeo Santos blasts through the speakers. Great. Yet another song my mom played when she tried teaching Cameron how to dance.
“Thinking about how I couldn’t dance?” Cameron says, amused.
A smile threatens to appear. “Couldn’t? You had two left feet and you probably still do.”
He lets out a dark laugh. “Alright, Kamila, humor me for a minute. If I can keep up with you during this song, you have to sit down and have a real conversation with me about what happened the other night.”
He’s funny if he thinks he can keep up with me after what I’ve seen him do in the past. Plus, he hasn’t had my mom’s help in years and his parents can’t dance either.
“Deal.”
He holds out his hand, and when I take it, he pulls me flat against his chest. Even with my tall boots Cameron needs to bend down slightly so that our hips can come somewhat close to touching. He begins to move his feet and hips from side to side in sync with the song and me. My eyes widen. No fucking way.
“Wait—How—Who?” I stumble over my words.
He grins and lowers his mouth to my ear. “A lot can happen in two years, Kamila.”
Cameron spins me around, and somehow, I manage to stay in step with him. He moves forward, then brings me backward, everything done with the right foot and hip work. He’s almost as good as I am, and I’ve been doing this since I was five. This is nothing like the seventeen-year-old boy who knocked over one of our lamps in the living room while learning the basics of this dance.
His stare is intense when he brings our hips together and rolls his into mine in perfect time with the beat.
We dance until the song is over, my eyes remain wide the entire time as I wait for my punishment.
He pulls away but doesn’t let go of my hand. “I think you owe me a conversation now.”
Chapter Eighteen
CAMERON
I’ve been dying to sit Kamila down to talk since Saturday. The night at the Kappa party was some of the best sex I’ve ever had, and she’s crazy if she thinks that once is enough for us. There’s no sense in her hiding how good it was. Hell, she even told me how hard she came.
Kamila attempts to tug her hand out of mine when we’re outside of King’s Wolf. I huff out an impatient breath but let it go.
“Where are you taking me?” By her stance and volume, I can tell that she’s clearly annoyed. Can’t blame the woman. It’s not her fault that she didn’t know I took classes senior year to surprise Ana and her family in the summer with my awesome moves.
“Well, we aren’t going to have this conversation in a loud bar where you can’t hear me, so I thought we’d walk on campus. Maybe sit on a bench or something.”
“Sit on a bench?” She eyes me suspiciously before reaching into her purse. “I never back out of a deal, so I’ll follow you to ‘the bench.’” She struggles with her bag finally finding her phone. “Before we go, I need to text Zo to see if she’s okay.”
Chuckling, I point toward the corner next to the bar entrance where Zoey and Will are practically dry humping against a wall.
“I wouldn’t worry about her.”
That was a dick move on Zoey’s part, leaving her friend alone like that for so long. It’s one of the reasons I went into King’s Wolf. It took everything in me not to take Kamila over my shoulder again with the amount of guys who were watching her. Every time somebody moved to dance with her, I stopped them and told them who she was with, even if she didn’t know it.
Kamila raises her voice. “And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I don’t do relationships.” She sends a quick text and stomps ahead of me.
Woah. After two and a half years, I thought she would’ve had at least one.
“You still don’t do relationships?”
She spares me a glance. “No.”
