I can feel him—how hard he is—and it sends a thrill straight through me. Now I fully understand the appeal of this kind of dance. In a dark, crowded club, this would practically be foreplay. Here, alone with him in the soft lighting of his living room, it feels even more intimate. Raw. Honest.
Then, his lips brush against my ear as he sings softly,“Te besaré hasta sentirme tuyo.”His voice is low, almost like a whisper, but it shoots straight to my core. A warm hum follows, his breath teasing my neck.
I shiver. “What does that mean?” I ask, voice shaky.
He chuckles, deep and rough. “It means, ‘I’ll kiss you until I feel like I’m yours.’” His hands glide up and down my sides as he says it. “It’s very sensual. The singer wants her so bad, he’s willing to have sex with his clothes still on. Just to feel close to her.”
I suck in a breath.
The imagery, the way he says it, the way his hands are still on my body, it’s too much and not enough at the same time.
“Can I turn around?” I ask, my voice breathless. “Or is it just like this all the time?”
His mouth dips close to my ear, his voice a low growl. “No, you can turn around.”
Before I even fully process it, he’s turning me in his arms, and now I’m facing him. His eyes are hooded with desire, and the way he looks at me makes my stomach flip. There’shunger in his gaze, undeniable, unfiltered, and the heat I feel pooling inside me grows stronger.
He grabs my hips and pulls me flush against him, eliminating any space between us. Our bodies press together, and I can feel every hard inch of him. My breath hitches.
“When we dance like this,” he murmurs, “it’s a little different. Since we’re face to face… I can move you however I want to.”
And he does.
His hands stay on my hips at first, then trail lower, then up my back, guiding my body into sync with his. I let go of any hesitation and follow his lead, moving with him, my body molded against his. I’ve never felt so connected to someone without saying a single word. Never felt so exposed and desired at the same time.
The music keeps playing, but all I hear is the sound of my own heartbeat thudding in my ears. We’re barely dancing now, it’s more like we’re breathing in the same air, holding on for whatever happens next.
The song ends, but neither of us move. We just stay there, pressed together, staring at each other.
The tension between us is thick—charged, magnetic—and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next. Kiss him? Step back? Say something witty to lighten the mood?
But the truth is, I don’t want to break this spell.
I don’t want to move at all.
Chapter Eighteen
Esteban
She fits perfectly in my arms, like she was made for me, and I am so damn screwed.
The kiss we shared earlier knocked the air out of my lungs. I had to pull away before I lost all control and dragged her onto my lap. I wanted to touch every inch of her, memorize the feel of her skin under my hands. And that tiny moan she let out? It’s etched into my brain, playing on a loop I never want to end.
Then I had thebrilliantidea to show her how to dance reggaetón. Now, her body is pressed up against mine, her hips moving in rhythm as I guide her, and I swear I'm barely holding it together. Her curves mold to me like a damn glove, and I know she feels how hard I am. There’s no hiding it, not with the way she keeps grinding against me like she knows exactly what she’s doing.
I want her.
I want to strip that sweater off her, pull down her leggings, and make her mine right here in the middle of myliving room. I want to make her moan my name as I eat her pussy. Then I want to see her face as I enter her wet and tight heat. I want to do dirty things to her. But I don’t. Instead, I stare down into her gorgeous eyes, fighting the urge to lean in and kiss her again. She looks up at me like she’s thinking the same thing, and my grip on her hips tightens just slightly.
The tension between us is electric. I haven’t stopped touching her since we started dancing and truth is, I don’t want to. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Ever.
And never, not even in my wildest dreams did I imagine that my best friend’s little sister would be the one to make me feeleverythingfor the first time in my life. The girl I used to tease, the one I saw grow up. Back then, she was just Noah’s kid sister; off-limits, untouchable, part of the background. But now I can’t get her out of my head. She’s no longer the little girl I used to prank, she’s a woman. One who challenges me, pulls me in, makes me want more than I’ve ever allowed myself to want.
What the hell am I supposed to do with all these weird emotions?
I’ve always been all about love. Hell, when Austin and Noah were falling for their girls, I was the one cheering them on, giving advice, pushing them to not screw it up. But this? This is different.
This isEva.
