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He placed a light hand on the small of her back, ushering her around the corner with gentle pressure. Sophie shivered slightly as the warmth of his hand seeped through her shirt. She should have worn layers.
As they rounded the next corner, Sophie gasped. She knew where she was, and yet, the view was still breathtaking. All of Central Park was laid out in the near distance, more lights flickering there like fireflies. On a small cafe table near the terrace wall, Henry had arranged a carafe of wine, two glasses, and a plate of fruit and cheese. He motioned her to have a seat. “Please. Let’s have a glass of wine before we begin.”
She nodded, folding herself into the wrought iron chair with its plush velvet cushion. Henry poured them each a glass and handed her one. “I hope you like Malbecs.”
He toasted her. Sophie returned the toast, sipping delicately at the rich wine. Flavors of blackberry and cocoa unfolded on her tongue and warmth trickled down her throat. “Mmm,” Sophie murmured.
“Not the finest vintage, but it reminds me of Argentina.” Henry sat opposite her, popping a raspberry into his mouth before taking a sip of his own wine.
Sophie tilted her head, studying his features. “Are you from there?”
He chewed the fruit slowly, shaking his head. “I was born here, but my parents are both from Buenos Aires. They moved here a couple years before I was born.”
She plucked a piece of crumbly cheese from the plate on the table before them and nibbled it, enjoying the contrast of the tangy creaminess of the cheese with the intense flavor of the wine. “Did you ever think about moving there? Argentina, I mean.”
Henry rolled the stem of the wine glass between his blunt tipped fingers. “My father has a house there. I suppose I could, if I wanted to. But no, this is my city.”
Sophie smiled. “I know what you mean. I’m from upstate but, more than anywhere else, this feels like home.”
She sucked the last of the sweet juice of a strawberry from her thumb, slowly becoming aware that Henry’s eyes were intent on her mouth as she did so. Intent and scorching. She licked away a smear of sticky juice on her lower lip and saw the muscle in his jaw jump. He slowly raised his gaze back to hers, taking a deep draught from his wine glass. “Where upstate?” he asked, voice husky.
“About two and half hours north of here, in the Catskills.” It was her turn to stare as he bit into a fig. She imagined those teeth closing gently over her nipple, those sensual lips sucking the hard bud, and shuddered. Moisture flooded the already slick folds of her pussy. Why couldn’t she control herself around this man?
“That’s lovely country,” Henry said.
Sophie blinked at him, trying to remember what the last thing she had said was. It took a minute. She sipped her wine to cover the lapse. “Oh, yes,” she answered, remembering. “It is. I miss it sometimes.” She shrugged. “So how did you get a place like this?”
He rubbed his thumb idly over a rough spot on the table’s surface, glancing briefly up at her through his lashes. “I work in real estate. The company is my father’s,” he said. His voice had gone dead.
His answer was brief, conveying the barest minimum of information. Best to move on. “Do you have music you prefer? I’ve brought some, if not.” She raised her iPod. Henry’s eyes flashed up to her, and she read surprise in their inky depths.
He drained the last of his wine and stood. “You can play what you like. I’ve got a dock in the sitting room we can use.”
Sophie took his extended hand, letting him draw her up out of the chair. “Well then,” she said, “shall we dance?”
He didn’t answ
er. Instead, he led her through another set of sliding glass doors, into what he’d called the sitting room. It was a rectangular room, with a fireplace taking up nearly an entire long wall. A pair of loveseats had been pushed back, clearing a wide space on the floor, and a rug that was surely Persian was rolled up against the fire’s immaculate grate.
The wood floor beneath was a deep cherry color and polished to a high shine. The iPod dock Henry had mentioned was on one of the matching cherry end tables, small and discrete. Sophie set down her bag. She took out her water bottle and drank a long sip before plugging her iPod into the sound dock. She keyed up a song and turned to Henry as the first beats drifted out through his speakers.
When he took her hand and drew her against him, his hold was even more intimate than it had been in the past. His hand on her back slid from her shoulder blade to rest against the small of her back, just above the curve of her ass. He pressed her so tightly against his body that she could feel the hard round outline of his shirt buttons and the cool metal of his belt buckle touching the flat plane of her belly.
Neither one of them added any space as they began to dance. Their hips and torsos twisted, their legs and feet moved to the beat, but they remained touching from shoulder to groin. Their previous two dances had stuck almost entirely to the accepted, classical form of tango. But not this time. This would be sensual.
Sophie gripped the hair at the nape of Henry’s neck with curled fingers, her face pressed into the warm length of his throat, her right arm dangling gracefully at her side while he dragged her forward, one big hand wrapped around her left thigh, holding it to his hip.
He pivoted, turning, supporting her entire weight as he bent over her, his breath ruffling against the hardened peaks of her breasts as he dropped his head. She slid her right hand over his chest, clutching at his shirt. His strength was the only thing keeping them up as she hung elegantly in his grasp. Sophie’s heart sank low into her belly, beating like a frantic butterfly between her thighs. She bit her lip as he spun her upright, swallowing her gasp as he moved into a calesita, like he had the other day. But this one felt different. That had been a bit of play, silliness. Today, he moved around her like a big cat stalking prey, his dark eyes hot on her face.
Henry pulled her into his chest, his cheek pressing against her hair. She could hear the rasp of his breath in her ear. His hard thigh slid between her legs, rubbing deliciously against her heated sex. Sophie undulated herself, stroking the length of his body with her own. Never before had she danced quite like this—a vertical expression of a horizontal desire, indeed. Horizontal, vertical, at an angle, she didn’t care how so long as she could express it.
She wasn’t the only one. Sophie felt the fleeting brush of Henry’s rock hard cock against her hip as he twisted and shuddered. His eyes snapped sparks at her, setting her skin aflame anywhere they rested. Pure, powerful want blazed through her veins, incinerating every other thought she might have had.
And then he leaned her back into a colgada, and her bad knee buckled. Sophie slipped, and would have fallen, heavily, onto her back if Henry hadn’t caught her and righted her. He made to move them seamlessly into a molinette, but her knee trembled unsteadily beneath her. Sophie wrenched herself from his arms, stumbling blindly to the nearest loveseat, eyes filling with stinging tears.
“Sophie?” Henry’s voice was rough with desire and worry. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Instead, she desperately massaged her aching knee where the muscles were beginning to knot and prayed for them to loosen. This was what she had feared. The weakness and ugliness of her injury bringing her low in front of Henry. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs as the tears spilled over her lashes and ran down her heated cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s my... I’m sorry. I’ll go.” She knocked the dock over in her haste to snatch her iPod as more tears poured down her face, wetting the front of her t-shirt as they dripped off her chin. She shouldered her bag hastily, trying to tuck her face against her shoulder so he wouldn’t see her tear-stained and blotchy. “I’ll just go,” she repeated, standing quickly. But her knee seized again and she cried out in pain, pitching forward. Henry’s strong hands caught her shoulders, cupping firmly, and pressed her back into the loveseat. She went, unable to stand on the knee anyway.
