I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. “And music? I listen to whatever lifts me up. I have a whole playlist just for cleaning and pretending my life’s a movie. Lately I’ve been obsessed with Benson Boone.”
Esteban raises his eyebrows. “Never heard of him.”
“You’re missing out. His voice isdreamy.” I look down at my bowl and laugh softly. “Honestly, I’m just a simple girl. It doesn’t take much to make me happy.”
He nods thoughtfully. “I like that.”
I shift, nudging his shoulder. “Okay, your turn.”
He takes a slow bite before answering. “Movies? I’m an action guy. Anything with car chases, shootouts, or spies? I’m in. But I also like romcoms. I’m not afraid to admit I’ve watchedThe Proposalmore than once.”
I burst out laughing. “Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds?”
He shrugs. “It’s a good one. Don’t judge me.”
“No judgment,” I say through a grin. “That movieisiconic.”
“I don’t really read,” he continues, stretching his legs out. “Every time I try, I end up falling asleep. But music? Spanishmusic all the way. Especially reggaetón. Every time I go to Puerto Rico, my cousins and I hit the clubs to dance. I love that part of going home, it just hits different.”
I can picture it so clearly, him in some dimly lit dance spot, moving like he owns the place, smiling and carefree. The thought makes my stomach flutter again.
“Now that,” I say, raising a brow, “I’d pay to see.”
“Careful what you wish for, mi amor.” He shoots me a smirk. “You just might get a private show.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks again, and I quickly take another bite of ice cream before I say something stupid… again. But I can’t help myself. I love how he says mi amor. When I get out of here, the first thing I’m going to do is google what does that means.
“How does one even dance to reggaetón? I’ve heard that one song that saysgasolinaand the one with Justin Bieber like fifty times, but that’s about the extent of my knowledge.”
Esteban grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, Eva,” he says, taking the bowl from my hands and setting both of ours on the coffee table. “Let me show you.”
He picks up his phone, scrolls for a few seconds, and taps something. Soft violin notes float through the kitchen speakers, gentle and elegant, almost romantic. For a second, I raise a brow, I don’t think this is reggaetón.
But then the beat drops. Deep, sultry, and pulsing like it’s synced to my heart. The bass rolls in beneath the strings, vibrating in my chest and anchoring my feet to the floor. My body reacts before I can even think.
Esteban stands and extends a hand toward me, his grin teasing and full of promise. “Come on. This is ‘Zun Da Da,’ by Zion. I used to blast it when I was younger. It’s theperfectsong to teach you how to dance.”
I hesitate, laughing nervously. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” he says, wiggling his fingers for me to take his hand.
I slide mine into his, and he gently pulls me up. Then he positions me in front of him, my back to his chest, placing both hands on my hips. His grip is light, but it burns through the fabric of my leggings. He starts moving me from side to side, guiding me to the rhythm.
“You don’t have to overthink it,” he says close to my ear. “In Puerto Rico, we dance with the girl in front of the guy. The guy follows her lead, moves with her. It’s all about connection.”
I nod, swallowing hard, trying to focus on what he’s saying and not on how every part of my body is starting to tingle.
His hands remain on my hips, gently encouraging my movements, and I find myself grinding my hips against him to the beat.
“Exactly like that,” he murmurs, his voice a deep rumble. “It’s a sexy dance. Usually, couples get aroused just by the movement.”
Feeling his breath against my ear, goosebumps rise on my skin. My heartbeat is a drumroll. I’m definitely getting aroused just by having him behind me and talking to me like this.
“You can be sensual,” he continues, “and the guy can…” His voice lowers, and then I feel his hands trail slowly from my hips to my waist, his fingers dragging along my sides with deliberate pressure that makes my breath catch.“...start touching the girl,” he finishes.
My knees feel like jelly.
We dance, and with each passing second, I feel bolder,more in tune with the rhythm and with him. My hips grind harder against him, pushing past shyness into something that feels natural and electric. His grip tightens on my waist in response, fingers digging in just enough to let me know he’s feeling every second of this, same as me.
