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“I promise my dancing will woo you,” he teased, extending a hand toward me. “Maybe you’ll even take me up on that booty call invitation after this.”
Oh, why the hell not? I didn’t want to be a stick in the mud or to make us look suspicious. And if Slade wanted to have fun, why shouldn’t I?
I pushed off my stool, landing steadily but with a slightly bubbly feeling in my head that told me the mojito’s effects had kicked in. Slade snatched my hand and guided me onto the dance floor. As he tugged me around to face him, I started to sway with the music, getting a feel for it. I wasn’t a star or anything, but I could hold my own if I needed to.
Slade jumped right into the beat, dipping this way and swiveling that way with a total confidence I couldn’t help admiring. I might also have been admiring the physique that justified some of that confidence. The guy was something to look at, and not just because of his moves.
He caught me watching him and waggled his eyebrows before grasping my hand again. “I promised you a real dance. Are you ready for this?”
I bit my bottom lip, unsure of what I’d gotten myself into. “The deal for coming with you was that I didn’t wimp out, so show me what you can do.”
“I hope you have good balance, Piccolina.”
I didn’t have a second to question those words before he was sweeping me around, moving me in perfect sync with the music. I barely managed to keep up without stumbling over my own feet. When Slade stopped, he flung my entire body backward. I felt weightless for a moment before he caught me and dipped me close to the floor. Then he lifted me back to his chest in a deft move that left my head spinning.
He slowed his movements for a minute, doing a forward and back move that I could mimic once I found the rhythm. I had to concentrate on each step and motion we made to keep up with what he seemed to be doing flawlessly. Here and there he added little extra gestures that I didn’t bother trying to imitate. It looked like a mix of a more formal dance style with typical modern club moves, both coming naturally to him.
Through my awe, I realized I shouldn’t be surprised. Back in high school, he’d always liked showing off with agile spins and leaps using his prosthetic leg, proving that it didn’t slow him down. It really didn’t at all. I mean, he was moving a hell of a lot more gracefully than I was.
He couldn’t have come up with all these techniques on his own just goofing around like those teenage antics. As his pace slowed with the more languid beat of the next song, I leaned closer, catching my breath before asking, “Where did you learn to dance like that?”
Slade set his hand on the side of my waist, the contact sending heat flooding through my shirt. It only intensified when he drew me closer so he could speak into my ear. “When I was a kid, my grandfather insisted on teaching me Latin ballroom dancing. He said it would help me win over the ladies when I got older. Is it working?”
I couldn’t help snorting at the wry question, giving him a playful shove to the chest, but the truth was, my whole body was getting all kinds of heated up with him this close. “It takes more than a dance to win me over,” I informed him with an arch of my eyebrows, but the statement didn’t feel all that true.
Slade took the declaration in stride like he did so much else. “Bummer,” he said with a wink. The hand on my waist trailed down to my hip, the brush of his fingers making my skin quiver in anticipation. He squeezed lightly, avoiding outright groping my ass, as he wrapped the other arm around the small of my back and dipped me slowly.
I allowed my head to fall back as I laughed through the maneuver. When he raised me, his breath spilled over my upper chest and neck before he pulled me completely upright just inches away from him. I couldn’t help imagining what his mouth might have felt like pressed against those sensitive planes.
The thumping beat sped up again, and Slade tugged me even closer to him. His leg eased between my thighs. Suddenly my chest was pressed against his, our bodies swaying together in a way that generated the most delicious friction. It felt incredibly dirty, but I also couldn’t bear to stop. It was still just dancing, right?
As much as I tried to convince myself of that, a flush crept over my face. Slade guided me in a rhythmic circle on the dance floor, his lips grazing my cheek. As I let my hands rise to tangle in his wavy hair, he made a sound in the back of his throat that resembled a restrained growl. He whispered a lilting phrase in my ear. “Piccolina, serías el postre perfecto para mi.”
My rudimentary Spanish from grade school in no way prepared me to interpret his comment, but itsoundedgood enough to melt me. “What does that mean?” I asked, my voice breathier than intended.
A smirk pulled at his lips as he whirled us in another direction, his leg still rubbing against that hungry spot between my legs. His arm tightened against my back, the muscles flexing. “It means that you would make a delectable dessert.”
Okay, it seemed like a simple dance wasenough to win me over, after all.
Washereally into it, or was this all just passing the time for him? He seemed to flirt automatically, not with any significant intent. I leaned back enough to try to catch his gaze and get a read on him. My heart was pounding fast. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted him to be into it. I wasn’t actually looking to hook up with him or anything… Right?
The heat I found in Slade’s gorgeous eyes was enough to melt any sense of resolve I’d had. A tingle raced through my body to my core. “That—that was a random thought,” I murmured, and then could have smacked myself. Of all the things I could have said in response, that was the leastsexy option.
Slade didn’t seem to mind, though. He licked his lips. “Not as random as you’d think.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth, and another rush of heat flooded me. I wanted him to lean in and close the distance between us. I was sure it was a totally horrible idea, but every part of me was aching to find out if he was as good at kissing as he was at dancing.
Oh, hell, Maddie, why not just kisshim? The world won’t end, right?
I might have actually done it. I hadn’t finished arguing with myself when a harsh voice shattered the moment between us.
“Eye-fucking the client on the dance floor—how professional.”
Logan’s words and his brawny frame looming over us might as well have thrown a bucket of frigid water over me. I pulled away from Slade as if I’d been caught in a crime myself, a shudder running through me.
Slade took a step back too, raising his hands, but he smiled as if he didn’t think this was any big deal. “Just fitting in and making use of our time here the way people are supposed to, man.”
“Well, while you were getting your rocks off”—Logan’s searing gaze snapped to me—“and you were distracting him, I managed to get some information. But there’s nothing we can pursue tonight. We should get out of here before we draw any attention—or at least any more than you two might already have.”
