His expression darkens and I recognize that look. It’s disgust. Things must be really bad if Devlin’s disgusted.
“Does he not want to see me? Does he hate me forever? What?”
“Come on.”
He takes my arm, and I follow him over to the string quartet. They’re between songs, and he whispers in the ear of the violinist, who nods and smiles.
Then Devlin drags me into the center of the room.
“What are you doing?” I hiss. “What’s going on?”
He spins me into him, and I fall onto his chest. Devlin takes my hand and murmurs in my ear, “What’s happening is that we’re going to change Storm Grayson’s mind about you.”
“Why? How does he feel about me?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Then how are you going to fix it? Influence him?”
He shakes his head, and a slow smile works itself across his face. “No. Better. We’re going to tango.”
“What?” I screech as the music starts up.
Before I’m given a chance to bolt, Devlin’s got me in a tight embrace. The music kicks up, and he leads me with strong steps into the dance.
Now I’ve taken lots of dance lessons. Any good witch worth her salt can move and shake, but I’ve never done the tango. I’ve seen plenty of movies where there have been sexy tangoes, but watching and doing are different.
Aren’t they?
“Make him want you,” Devlin whispers in my ear.
“What?”
“Blair, you are three seconds away from losing the one shot you’ve got, and there’s nothing I can say to Storm to change his mind. So unless you pull out the sexiest dance you can manage, he’s going to walk out that door and never return.”
My head snaps toward Storm. He’s still here, but he’s not paying attention to us.
“I could use your influence power,” Devlin whispers in my ear, “but that’s only a temporary fix, a bandage on a problem. You’ve got to convince him to stay, that you’re worth it, that suffering from a broken nose was the price of being in your presence.”
My skin shivers as his words float over my ear and trickle down my neck. Something happens in this moment. It’s like a lightbulb’s been snapped on, and I realize that I have two choices—let Storm leave or win him.
I decide to win.
So I throw myself into the tango.
The music is slow and sultry, and I take the opportunity to show off my dance skills. Devlin walks me back several paces, and I drop, extending my right leg between both of his while keeping my eyes pinned up at him.
A hush fills the room. Everyone’s watching.
I rise and Devlin’s hand splays over my lower back, across the curve of my rear end, and I suck air but keep my eyes latched onto him.
Heat is flaming like an inferno in his gaze, and that heat envelops me, spurring me on, pushing out the world as I follow his lead.
Our steps are quick, our legs entwine, tangle, separate. My torso’s pressed against his as he pushes and pulls, dipping me down, his breath grazing against my bust before he dramatically whips me up and catches me in his embrace.
I’m breathless, intoxicated by this moment with him. There’s only him. There’s no one else in the world except Devlin, and I’m putty in his hands, water in his embrace.
He moves like a god, and the entire room knows it. I can feel all their eyes as I’m dipped, as I fall onto him and he catches me, as I tangle my leg in his like we’re wrapped up in bedsheets, and as I unwind from him.
