For one thing, I’ve been trying all day not to think about how good Diego felt pressed up against me in the closet. Or about how nice he smelled. Or how that wasn’t his hand touching my ass.
Okay, I’m a liar. I’ve been thinking about that part all. Day. Long.
It’s even worse in a brightly lit ballroom with both of our families as an audience.
In the southeast corner of the room, Diego presses my back against the wall and slides his arm around my waist. With his mouth next to my ear, he whispers, “First symbol. El Mar.”
I feel his left hand moving against my lower back as he draws the symbol in chalk. He breathes the associated incantation as if he’s whispering sweet nothings, and I don’t have to pretend to be swooning. We’re chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis. His closeness and the flutter of his lips against the shell of my ear is doing things to me. Dark, delicious things.
It’s all I can do to keep an eye out, and I struggle to find words when I see my younger sister Cleo approaching.
“Someone’s coming,” I say on a gasp.
Diego’s hand stills. “I’m going to put my hand on your butt.”
I bite my lip in anticipation of his touch, but out loud, I only say, “Go for it.”
His hot palm lands on my ass, his fingers molding around the curve. I narrowly resist the urge to tell him to squeeze. You know, to make this more believable. That’s all.
Then he swirls his tongue against the side of my neck, and I nearly jump out of my own skin.
Cleo stops in front of us and props a hand on her hip like she’s a model striking a pose. She’s twenty and acts like she’s too cool for this world. I wonder how much of that is because I left when she was fifteen, and she stepped up to take my place as the family’s golden goose. With her sharp cheekbones and natural haughtiness, she became the belle of the Isla Bruja balls, which made my mom hostess supreme.
If you thought the presence of my younger sister would be like a bucket of ice water over my libido, you’d be wrong. When Diego lifts his head to look at Cleo, I want to drag his mouth back to me so he can continue whatever he was just doing with his tongue.
Cleo’s expression is bored, but still somehow dazed. She’s clearly under the demon’s spell.
“Abuela’s looking for you, Cat,” she drawls.
“Um, I’m a little busy here. Do you know what she wants?”
Cleo shrugs. “You know how she is.”
I do. My grandmother is a force of nature. She’s the queen of glamours, and she specializes in dance magic. She has a way of commanding attention and influencing people I’ve always admired.
I am also completely incapable of saying no to her.
Cleo leaves, and Diego releases me.
“We’re running out of time,” I tell him. “Did you finish the symbol?”
“I did.”
“Good. We have to get the others done before my grandmother catches us.”
“Next up is Tierra. Head to the southwest corner.”
This time, Diego urges me to prop my butt on the edge of one of the tables. He uses my ass to shield what he’s drawing.
His other hand hovers near my waist. “Hand under your shirt?” he asks, seeking permission.
I hold back a moan. “Do it.”
He slides his right hand beneath the fabric of my tank top and up my back. The brush of his fingers on my bare skin makes me shiver. He stills.
“You okay?”
I nod. “Yeah. Fine.”
