He takes my hand in his, his grip warm, strong, and steady, thumbs brushing over the tops of my fingers as he gently pulls me toward him. There’s something comforting about the way his hand wraps around mine, like I’m not just learning to dance—I’m learning something else, something big, and somehow, that feels even harder than getting the steps right.
Nico steps back first, pulling me along with him. His movements are smooth, graceful, confident—and I feel like I’m stumbling in slow motion. My feet don’t quite match his, and I step on his toes more than once.
“Sorry,” I mumble, wincing.
“It’s okay,” Nico purrs, gaze lazy and molten. “You’re doing so good. Just relax, baby.”
I stumble again with the force of the sudden deluge between my legs.
We go through the basic steps again, this time a little smoother, but still—his movements are so fluid, while mine are still stiff and awkward. I can feel my face flush with embarrassment, but Nico just gives me that encouraging yet horny look that somehow makes it all feel okay.
“Okay, now let’s add some hip movement,” Elton says, clapping to the rhythm. “Let your hips follow the beat—don’t be shy!”
“For fuck’s sake,” I groan at the ceiling.
The corners of Nico’s lips are twitching. “It’s all in the hips, honey,” he growls playfully. “Don’t be shy.” He guides me through it, his hands steady as he moves us in time with the music. His own hips sway effortlessly, and as he glances down at me, there’s a teasing glint in his eyes. “Relax, really. Stay with me. Trust me. Just follow my lead.”
I feel a little ridiculous, my hips moving awkwardly, but Nico doesn’t stop. His hand slides from my lower back to my hip, pulling me closer as he sets the rhythm. My body follows his, albeit not with the same grace, but I try to match him.
I start to get the hang of it, and after several marginally successful steps, his fingers press gently into my side. My breath hitches. He increases the pressure, and there’s something about the way he touches me—nothing overt, just the press of his hand that sends a spark straight down to my toes. He’s guiding me through the dance, but with every step, every slight shift of his hand, something between us builds, slow and deliberate.
Suddenly, Nico pulls me closer. Too close. I can feel the heat radiating off him, and I’m so close I could sink my teeth in like I’ve been dying to. His strong arms steady me as I teeter on my own two feet. I glance up, and his eyes are dark, focused on me,as if the dance has become secondary to something much more intimate.
“Annie,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky.
I swallow hard, suddenly acutely aware of how close we are. My heartbeat is thudding in my ears, and I feel his breath on my skin as he leans down just a fraction closer.
We move together, our bodies in perfect sync now. Nico’s hands glide with precision over my back, guiding me through the steps, but there’s something more, something electric in the way our bodies align. I can’t help but notice how strong he feels beneath my touch, how steady and controlled his movements are.
“Now, lean into me,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper, guiding me into a dip. His hand slides lower on my back, the pressure firm, possessive, but gentle.
I lean into him, my chest pressing against his, and for a split second, I forget about the rest of the class, the music, everything around us. All I can focus on is him—his hands, his lips that are just a breath away, his body that’s holding me steady. The entire room has faded away, and there’s only him, his body against mine, the heat between us building.
When he pulls me back up, his hand doesn’t leave my waist, keeping me close. I’m breathless, my body buzzing with the closeness, the magnetic intensity. His eyes flicker to mine, the air thick with unspoken words.
“See?” Nico says, his grin back, but it’s different now. “Told you I could lead.”
I laugh, breathless, but there’s something undeniable in the air, palpable, something you could stick your tongue out and taste. “Yeah, well,” I say, “I think you might be leading Sister Annie down the wrong path.”
His smile softens, and for a moment, the world is still. He pulls me even closer, his breath hot against my ear. “Maybe. But I thinkAnnieis more than willing to follow me wherever I go.”
The lights go dim. The music gets louder.
His lips graze my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. The music swells, and I can feel the heat of his body with mine, the friction between us as we move, slow and steady, as if we’re the only two people in the room. Our bodies are slick with sweat, the temperature rising, the rhythm of our movements mirroring the pulse building between us. He’s half-hard, I feel it now, and I can’t help but press against it, thrilled and panting over the low groan in his throat and the slight thrust he gives back.
Our breaths are shallow and erratic. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. A drop of sweat drips down his neck. It’s so close; it’s right there, and I have the uncontrollable urge to taste it. Something takes over me, and I do. I lick it. It’s delicious. Warm and salty, a little sweet, like the lingering taste of summer heat and something distinctly him. There’s a hint of whatever soap he uses mixed with the intoxicating scent of sweat and desire. Addictive—earthy, masculine, utterly consuming. My tongue barely flicks over the spot, but the taste floods my senses, leaving me desperate for more.
He leans down, presses an open-mouthed kiss right under my ear, doing his own tasting. He’s all but holding me up now; I’m trembling in his arms. “So,” he murmurs, his hand sliding lower on my back as he pulls me into the hard length of him again. “Am I fuckin’ you in the car, or back at the house?”
SIXTEEN
Annie
I’mwhite-knuckling the bar above my seat.
What I’m not doing, however, is riding the fuck out of Nico Giannuzzi in the back seat.
He grips the steering wheel, ten and two.
