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They’re all paired up in couples.Whether man or woman, everyone is shaking their hips sensually. It’s hypnotic, and I can’t stop staring.
Konstantin doesn’t waste time. He leads me through the bar, which smells like saffron and white wine, until we’re smack-dab in the center of the floor.
“What is all this?” I ask.
“Bachata.”
“It looks like salsa to me.”
Konstantin laughs in the base of his throat. “It’s similar, but there are a few differences.”
“Like what?”
“Well, salsa is lighthearted. Energetic.” He offers his hand. “Flirty, even.”
I stare at his fingers and fight the urge to bite my lip. It’s no longer about Nadia’s rules. I sure as hellwantto be here with him.
“And bachata?” I ask as I tangle my hand in his.
“Slower.” His other hand rests against the small of my back. “More intimate.” A small tug and I find myself pressed close to him. The smell of soap and aftershave—light enough to tease and tantalizing enough to draw me in further—tickles my nose. “Andfarmore sensual.”
“Is that right?” I breathe, fighting the pounding in my heart.
“Let me show you, Kitty Cat.” His hand squeezes mine, and my body warms all through my center.
I couldreallyuse a cold drink right now.
“I don’t know the steps.”
“Just let me take control and you’ll be fine.”
He faces me, and I see my own flushed reflection in his ice-blue eyes. It’s the first time I’ve noticed how much taller he is than me. Iknewhe was bigger—most people are—but this closeness emphasizes how his chin is half a foot over my head. His back is broad enough that someone standing behind him wouldn’t be able to see me. “You sure you want to do this in the middle of the room? There’s lots of space on the sidelines,” I say.
“People can see us better like this.”
“You mean they’ll see you get embarrassed by me a lot easier.”
He dips his head, and for a single dizzying moment, I imagine him pressing his full lips against mine. But instead, he chuckles as he whispers—breath hot and sultry against my ear, “Nothing you do can embarrass me, Kitty Cat.”
My heart wriggles up my throat.Oh yeah. I’m in trouble.
Konstantin squeezes my fingers, his shoe sliding back an inch. “Just follow. I’ll lead.”
“I’ll do my best,” I whisper.
He moves his arms in gentle swerves, his knees bending, hips rocking. It’s like he’s the living embodiment of the sea that surrounds us. The entire time he dances, his eyes don’t leavemine. I’m less graceful; I have to constantly glance at his feet just to keep up.
We pace in a small square to the beat of the music. Konstantin goes further than that, tapping his feetbetweenthe beats.
He doesn’t just break the rules, he bends them to his will.
I laugh. “How are you so good at this?”
His eyes flash, as do his teeth in his wide smirk. Pressing closer to me, he tugs my arms, causing our bodies to touch. I gasp, partly from shock, and partly from something else stirring inside of me.
“A man needs to be nimble on his feet,” he replies. “It’s rude to step on someone’s toes.”
“What about women? Do I get a pass?”
