“Wow. I’m doing the Salsa.” she laughed. “Well, actually, you are.” She giggled like a teenager. “Damn, you can move.” I grinned when she wiggled her brows again.
I released her hand and dropped mine pressing her hips tight to me. “It’s all in the hips and very sexy if the couple moves well together.” There was an instant smokiness to her eyes when she looked up. She gripped my shoulders tight. “You did say you want to feel me again.”
“I said hold you, not feel you,” she scolded but laughed. “Do you dance often?”
“The last time I danced the Salsa was at a school dance. I attended a boarding school and hated all the cultural events they kept hosting. They made us practice every damn day for six months. I had this teacher who’d cry blue murder to our parents every chance she got. After that, I vowed never to dance it again.”
“But you’re dancing it now.”
“Because it’s with you,” I replied without thinking. Her expression turned thoughtful. I’d pay a million dollars to peek into that beautiful head and see what went on in there. I tried to break her sudden solemnity. “It’s an easy dance to learn.”
She rolled her eyes. “If you can afford dance classes or you have an old uncle that can teach you. I had neither, and I’m not much of a social bee. My cousin taught me the little you’ve seen me dancing just now.”
“Besides Salsa, do you like any other music?” I asked, hoping to get to know her a little better.
“The Second Waltz is another favorite.”
“Waltz? Really?”
Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I was born to an Italian mother and Indian father, so between the two, I grew up with more traditional music than English hip hop.”
That little share intrigued me. It would account for her unusual skin color, and paired with those blue eyes and dark hair, I was surprised she wasn’t a model. “Italian and Indian, that’s one spicy mix with a capital letter I.” I chuckled when a smirk curled her lips.
“My mom loved to cook, and whenever she was in the kitchen, Classical or opera music filtered through the house. Somehow I grew to love it.” My heart clenched at the flagrant loneliness in her eyes.
“Sounds like your parents were stunning people.”
She stared at me for a long moment. “They were. Money wasn’t always great, and we moved around a lot, which is why new homes make me uncomfortable...” she trailed off as though lost in memories.
Now I understood her intimidation when she entered the apartment—childhood anxiety. I had a sudden urge to protect her. I wanted to hold her, squeeze her, shield her from everything she feared, and I never wanted to let her go. I wanted her to be mine. The realization of my thoughts shocked me to the core. I inhaled sharply when she began speaking again.
“But they tried to make the best home for me. They would string lights over my ceiling, and I’d pretend I slept in a fantasy forest. At times we’d make this tent in my room that we’d share for a couple of nights until I was comfortable sleeping alone. Even when Mom passed, Dad tried hard to keep us grounded.” Watching the changing emotions move across her face, I didn’t notice the music had stopped until she stepped off my feet and curtsied. “Thank you for that wonderful dance, kind sir,” she teased, grinning from ear to ear.
Until that moment, I hadn’t realized just what power she wielded over me, not only in the bedroom. She was already more woman than I could’ve hoped to find, and with that, she commanded my attention, usurped my emotions, tested my restraint, and would haunt my every thought. Without even knowing it, this woman had it in her to destroy me, not just sexually, but every fiber of my being. She possessed the ability to steal my affection, my smile, my love. Was it weird to lose my heart to someone I hardly knew?
“I’m hungry,” her soft statement pulled me out of my descent into something I couldn’t fathom.
“The kitchen’s through there. You want to have a look?” I pointed in that direction, needing a moment to recoup my thoughts. As she walked away, I couldn’t take my eyes off her swaying hips, knowing she was naked under my shirt. Despite that knowledge, I realized that I didn’t want just sex with this woman. Was it crazy to think I could have something more with her? I cursed under my breath. Dropping into a chair in front of the fire, I stared into the orange flames.
“Would you like a bite?” I looked up, not realizing she’d returned. She stood beside me, a bowl in her hand, her tongue licking her lips.
I laughed at her childish contentment. “What have you discovered in the kitchen that’s got you smiling like a Cheshire cat?”
“My midnight snack. Frosted flakes.” She held out the bowl for me to see.
My eyes rounded. I couldn’t keep the disbelief out of my voice as I asked, “Of all the things in that stocked kitchen, you come back with a bowl of cereal?”
She rolled her eyes at me, and my lips twitched. “Have you tried it?”
“No. Those things are not good for you.”
“Then don’t diss it,” she scolded. To my surprise, she swung her leg over mine and straddled me. Spreading my thighs to accommodate her, I cupped her butt. “Open your mouth.” She held up a spoonful of golden flakes floating in milk. I shook my head. “Unless you try it, I’m not having sex with you again.”
I threw back my head with a guttural laugh. “Blackmail, Princess?” She nodded. “And what makes you think it’ll work?”
“Because I know you want me to suck your cock.” She shrugged, shocking me with her outspoken suggestion, and proceeded to fill her mouth with another spoonful, licking her lips like it was the most expensive caviar she’d tasted. I remembered that not only was she allergic to seafood, but caviar also wouldn’t impress her if a simple thing like Frosted flakes made her this candid.
“And not because you want me to fuck you again?” I moved my left hand in a lazy drag over her thigh, gradually easing it under her shirt. The spoon stuck in her mouth, she stared at me. Despite her effort to appear calm, the slight tremble was a dead giveaway. “You haven’t been thinking about what other plans I have for you tonight, have you, Princess?” She shook her head. My hand climbed to her breast. I rolled my thumb over the hardened nipple. Holding her body rigid, she sucked in a breath, dropped the spoon into the bowl, and attempted to scoop out another bite. “Don’t pretend you don’t want me, Sia. I can feel how you respond to me.” The fingertips of my other hand skimmed over her thigh, back and forth until her skin pebbled. “Fine. I’ll taste it.” I dropped both hands to my sides and opened my mouth. Her body sagged in frustration. I grinned when she avoided looking at me and accepted the spoonful she fed me.
