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‘You don’t like to dance?’
How could she know? Apart from a few school parties, which she’d spent glued to the wall like some kind of Grecian statue, or ferrying drinks for people in the hope no one would notice how awkward and out of place she felt, Sienna couldn’t have said.
‘I should—’ She cast about for an excuse, a reason to leave him, even though her feet wanted to stay firmly planted right where they were. She waved a hand vaguely in the direction of her bestie, Gertie, across the space. Her eyes followed the direction in which her hand pointed, and so the last thing she expected was for him to touch her.
Not just to touch her, but to lace his fingers through hers in an act that was, for Sienna, so intimate her breath hitched in her throat beneath the stars of this ancient city. Everything inside her seemed to shift. She whirled around to face him, lips parted, eyes wide, and a bold sense of daring gripped her, a rush of fearlessness that made her want to tip headlong into whatever madness was whispering on the sultry summer evening’s air.
He was watching her through veiled eyes, impossible to see. Unlike Sienna, he was a master at concealing what he was thinking and feeling.
Stop overreacting.
‘Come and dance with me, bonita.One song.’
His fingers were warm and strong, his hand much larger than hers. She stared down at the contact, her pulse heavy in her throat, so she was conscious of every quiver and rushed beat.
‘Okay,’ she said after a beat. Be yourself. ‘But don’t blame me when your feet need to be amputated because I’ve trodden on them so many times.’
His smile set her soul on fire. ‘Deal.’ And then, because he clearly specialised in Moves That Could Shock Her, Alejandro lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across it, searing every single cell in her body. How could she feel aflame at the same time a tingly shivery feeling ran along her back? Contradictions flooded her—she was reluctant to dance with him even when it felt like the most important thing to her as well.
She hadn’t been exaggerating. Sienna Thornton-Rose was not a natural dancer, and, for some reason he couldn’t put his finger on, he found that...intriguing. He found her intriguing, in ways he’d probably be better able to analyse if her body weren’t so close to his, every little jerk of her legs bringing her voluptuous curves nearer, breasts that were so rounded he found his palms aching to lift up and feel them, to appraise their weight and fullness for himself, to admire them naked, to take one of her nipples in his mouth, to—
She’s not suitable to be one of your one-night stands.
Alejandro ground his teeth together, forcing himself to look across the dance floor to where Olivia and Luca were dancing. Luca was completely wrapped up in his bride; he wasn’t looking at Alejandro and Sienna.
Because he trusts you.
So? He wasn’t planning to do anything to betray that trust. But Luca had asked Alejandro to distract Sienna, to show her a good time, and it was quite clear that she was not having a good time. Yet.
Something like adrenaline rushed his body as he put his hands on her hips, those huge green eyes of hers widening like saucers as she stared up at him, her long lashes, painted a dark black, blinking as a frown tilted her full lower lip downwards. She was nothing like the kind of woman he usually dated, but there was something about her that was making Alejandro’s breath heavy in his lungs. He was conscious of all of himself and all of her. Did the freckles that leaped opportunistically across the bridge of her nose appear anywhere else on her body? Were her lashes naturally the same colour as her hair, a deep, rich, rusty red? And the hair on her sex?
Hell. Having been told she was off limits was driving him crazy. All Alejandro could think about was a rising tide of desire rampaging his system. But his life was about control and he refused to succumb to the weakness of temptation—not when Luca had been so explicit.
‘You have to relax,’ he encouraged, even when pressure was building inside him like a coil. ‘Feel the rhythm of the music. Let it touch something in your soul.’
‘I’d relax a little more if you were a little less like a Spanish-deity-cum-Hollywood-star brought to life,’ she snapped, and then flushed, as though she were embarrassed, but her eyes stayed locked to his, something unapologetic and addictive in their depths.
Why did he find her admission so pleasing? After all, Alejandro was well aware of his impact on women. He was a renowned bachelor for a reason, able to take his pick of most women at most events. And yet, her unsophisticated compliment, her irritation at finding him attractive, made him want to tease her.
To tempt her.
Oh, mierda.He really needed to think of Luca, but the truth was his best friend was the last thing he wanted in his mind in that moment.
‘Is dancing with a deity not on your bucket list?’ he prompted, bringing his body closer, even as his brain berated him for such weakness.
He felt the air whoosh out of her lungs, felt it brush his cheek, and immediately he wondered about how she’d sound when she was coming, how her breath would rush over him as she cried his name at the top of her lungs... He held back a curse as he began to stiffen in his pants, the fabric at his crotch a welcome constraint given that he was dancing with his best friend’s newly minted sister-in-law.
‘Surprisingly not,’ she said, stiffly.
‘Relax,’ he reminded her, and when she didn’t, he lifted one hand to her chin, tilting her face to his, holding it there so he could look into her eyes. ‘Don’t look away,’ he commanded, so used to being obeyed in every aspect of his life that it didn’t occur to him for one moment she would be any different. He slowly lowered his hand, watching her the whole time, bringing his hand back to her hip, and then moving her in time with the music. Only it wasn’t really the music he was synchronising her with, so much as the rhythmic rushing of his blood, the building of awareness deep within him, an ache he would normally know he was within hours of satisfying.
Not tonight,he reminded himself forcibly. Not with her.
The maid of honour dress was exceptionally beautiful. He’d noticed that when she’d walked into the church. Unlike other weddings he’d attended, where the bride had sought to outshine all in attendance, Olivia had clearly chosen a dress designed to flatter her sister with every detail. From the deep emerald green that emphasised the mystery of Sienna’s eyes, to the floaty material that clung to her full breasts like a second skin then fell loose and flowing to her knees, so Alejandro wanted to bunch the chiffon fabric in his fists and lift it, to slip his hand beneath the hem and feel the curve of her bottom, to—
Cristo. He was losing the plot. Luca would kill him if he continued down this path. Hell, he’d kill himself for betraying his friend.
‘You’re very good at this.’ Her words pulled him back to the present.
