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“Don’t worry Ms. Tremaine, I’ll be sure you still receive the standard commission.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Sophie blurted.
Darren waved his hand at her frantically. “Sophie!”
She ignored him. “I’m sorry, Hen—Mr. Medina. But you can’t do that.”
“Can you?” Wayne asked, arms crossed.
A tiny smile crept up over Henry’s lips. “I can. And I will.” He shot this in Sophie’s direction. “On one condition.”
Wayne’s brows rose to his hairline. “And that is?”
“One dance. With Sophie. Right here and now.”
“No.” The word was out of Sophie’s mouth before she even thought about it. She wanted to say yes, desperately. In fact, she had dreamed about being in his arms again. But she didn’t want him to think that she had reconsidered his offer for the private lessons. She couldn’t open herself up to this man.
Darren curled his arm around her waist, tugging her further away from the group. She blinked at him in surprise. She hadn’t seen him move from his spot beside Wayne. “Sophie,” he said, chuckling nervously, “can I talk to you over here?”
Henry raised a brow at her, lips twitching. She flashed Henry a sharp glance, but let her friend pull her a few feet away. He was hissing in her ear. “You are kidding, right? You’re going to dance with him. This is just some play-hard-to-get female flirtation thing. Right?”
“It isn’t, and I’m not.” Hot blood bloomed in her cheeks. She was not flirting with Henry Medina.
“Soph,” Darren pleaded. “You saw that apartment! There’s no way we’re going to find something anywhere near as nice in our price range. Please. It’s just one dance!”
Just one dance with the gorgeous Henry Medina. In broad daylight, in a skirt, where her scars and faults would be on full display. Her mouth went dry. “Dar, I’m sorry. But you saw me yesterday, my knee is no good.” It wasn’t a total lie, she was nervous about collapsing in front of Henry the way she’d collapsed in front of her students and further exacerbating her injury. But she also didn’t want him to think she was the kind of girl who was easily swayed by money.
Darren clutched her arm. “Soph—” But she pulled free and took the few steps back toward Henry. She heard Darren’s heavy sigh from behind her and winced.
“Henry,” she began. From the corner of her eye she caught Wayne rubbing a comforting hand up and down Darren’s back. She bit her lip. “We, don’t have any music.” She said, deciding that she could risk one dance for the sake of her best friend’s future.
Henry turned to Darren, a twinkle in his obsidian eyes. “You seem like a music lover. Have anything on your phone Ms. Becker and I can dance to?”
Her friend was already nodding and fishing around in his shoulder bag. He brandished his iPhone in triumph. Darren scrolled through his phone. He gave a soft ‘aha!’ and handed the iPhone to Henry.
“We’re not going to dance in the hallway, are we?” Sophie asked, hoping to minimize the humiliation.
“Of course not. We’re dancing on the roof,” Henry said. He hit the elevator button and ushered the group inside.
When they arrived at the building’s rooftop Henry swiftly plugged the iPod into a dock set up near the pool area, and Sophie scowled at Darren as the opening notes of the music came over the speakers. She turned to Henry, who was ready and waiting, his hand extended toward her. With a tremulous sigh she laid her hand in his.
He pulled her into his embrace, his arm curving low around her back. His eyes sparked like flint as she leaned into him. The beat was more up-tempo than it had been during their first dance, but Henry was clearly up to it.
The sun felt hot on her head, shining bright off the white umbrellas shielding the rooftop tables. Henry’s arm was hard against her back, his palm warm through the thin silk of her top. She couldn’t help it. Her hips were already swaying to the rollicking rhythm of the song. She fell effortlessly into the dance. Henry was an excellent leader, spinning them around the open expanse of the roof, feet gliding smoothly over the stone.
When he lifted her against his chest for a calesita, delight burst inside her belly like fireworks. She threw back her head and laughed up at the sky as he danced around her. Henry’s eyes twinkled as he gazed down at her. When her feet touched the ground again, she kicked up and hooked her leg high on his thigh.
They moved as one, steps in perfect time. She was panting, breathless, giddy at the playful brush of her skirt against her thighs, Henry’s big hand at her back, the press of his chest against her own. His foot stopped hers, pushing it along, pivoting her off her axis. His movements were strong, clean, and fast.
The dance in her half-lit studio had been deeply sensual, erotic. There was still an element of passion today. She could hardly be pressed so closely to such a gorgeous man, their bodies moving together, and not find it so. But whereas last time was serious, today was exuberant. The difference between the two dances was like the difference between a fall-into-bed-tearing-at-each-other’s-clothes voracious sexual encounter, and a light-hearted afternoon frolic between the sheets. Both sexy, but the mood was different.
She kicked out her left leg, twisting her torso the slightest bit, saucy and defiant as the singer crooned. Henry laughed, deep and low, as he pulled her back in, his hard thigh pressing between her legs. She gasped, eyes widening at the sensation. It was a dance move, she knew it was. Hell, she’d taught it a hundred times. But somehow, when he did it, it was so much more than that. As intimate as a kiss.
She bit her lip at the throb of her moistening sex, disappointed that the last few notes of the song faded. She stared up into his handsome face. His grin was wide, eyes sparkling, his dimples and straight, white teeth on display.
Sophie was breathing quickly, chest heaving, the hard buds of her nipples pressing through her bra and blouse to rub exquisitely against his chest. The entire length of her body was pressed to him. Her right leg was hooked around his hip while her left arm was wrapped around his neck, fingers curled in the thick silk of his dark hair. Only her pointed left foot anchored her to the ground.
All her weight, the portion of it that Henry wasn’t bearing, rested on her left leg. Her bad leg. And she hadn’t felt a thing but exultation. She could feel the smile stretching her own cheeks, the flush of blood in them as her heart pounded. Slowly, the rest of the world came back to her.
