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The corner of my mouth quirks up in the barest hint of a smirk. Two can play at this game.
I rise to my feet, crossing the room to take Delilah's hand in mine. Instead of shaking it, I bring it to my lips, just like last night. "Pleasure to meet you."
Her cheeks flush ever so slightly, but she holds my gaze. "Likewise."
Thankfully, the dance instructor chooses that moment to bustle in, clapping her hands together briskly. "Alright, folks, let's get this party started!"
As she and Daisy talk about what they hope to get out of this lesson, I lean over to Delilah, pitching my voice low. "So, we're pretending like last night didn't happen?"
Her jaw tenses slightly, those lush lips pressing into a tight line. "That would be preferable, yes."
"Whatever you say, princess." I flash her a wink, thoroughly enjoying how her nostrils flare with irritation.
"Don't call me that."
"Why not? It suits you."
Before she can respond, the music starts up—a slow, sultry number that has Wyatt already looking like a newborn fawn trying to find its legs—and I take Delilah in my arms.
"Just go with it," I murmur as she moves stiffly against me. "Wouldn't want to disappoint your sister, would we?"
She glares up at me. "You're insufferable."
"And you're wound way too tight this morning." I dip her back, drinking in the way her curves arc so perfectly. When I bring her upright again, she's slightly breathless. "Just relax and enjoy yourself... you know, like you did last night."
Delilah opens her mouth—probably to deliver another biting retort—but then seems to think better of it, snapping it shut again as Daisy and Wyatt waltz past us.
As the lesson progresses, I can't help but revel in how well she fits in my arms, like two puzzle pieces slotting perfectly together. The way her body molds to mine, the faint hint of her floral perfume surrounding us in an intoxicating cloud—it's enough to make a man lose his senses.
"You're staring," she murmurs.
I dip my head until my lips are nearly brushing the delicate shell of her ear. "Hard not to when you're looking so damn good, princess."
"I told you not to call me that," she bites out, but there's no real venom behind the words this time.
"What would you prefer?" I counter as my hands come to rest at the tempting swell of her hips.
She huffs out a breath, and I swear I can see the slightest twitch at the corner of her lips—like she's fighting a smile. "'Your Highness' works for me."
Her response surprises me, and I'm laughing when the instructor circles back around, watching us with an approving nod. "You two make such a lovely couple."
Delilah tenses in my arms, no doubt preparing to set the record straight. But before she can open her mouth, a sultry Spanish ballad crackles to life over the speakers, and she immediately softens, her eyes fluttering shut.
"Oh, I love this song," she says.
Then, she starts singing along in Spanish. I don't understand the words, but I don’t have to in order to appreciate the effortless beauty in the way she sings—no forced dramatics, just pure, raw emotion.
"You've got a gorgeous voice," I murmur when she trails off. “What’s the song about?”
"It's about two lovers from completely different worlds," she explains. "Their love is impossible from the start."
"Let me guess—the guy was a rugged, handsome mountain man, and the woman was a sophisticated city slicker who fell for his wild ways."
The barest hint of a smile tugs at her full lips. "Something like that."
"So, they make it work in the end, right?" I ask, pulling her a little closer. "The mountain man sweeps her off her feet with his charming good looks and rapier wit?"
Delilah's smile fades, and she actually cringes. "Not exactly. The woman ends up dying tragically, and the man is cursed to a life of solitude and loneliness."
