Page 35 of Love at First Ink

Tiny assured her, “I’m the best driver in the family.”

“Only because she drives like a grandma and avoids highways,” Cisco said.

“Shut up.” She flipped him off again beforeturning her attention back to Marisol. “I’ll be careful. Please don’t make me ride with this idiot again. All he does is talk about you and how pretty you are and how much he wants to kiss?—”

“Okay!” Cisco interrupted. “Always fun hanging out with you, prima, but you gotta go.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m gone. Don’t forget to Venmo me!” she called as the doors slammed behind her.

“I promise she really is a good driver.” Cisco took Marisol’s hand.

She ignored the warm flush that went through her body. “If she crashes, you owe me a new car.”

“I’ll buy you whatever fucking car you want. Now let’s go. I have something fun planned for us.” Cisco didn’t offer further explanation as he led her out of the building and to his car.

“Where are we going?” Marisol’s curiosity got the best of her.

Cisco opened the passenger door for her and said, “Dancing.”

What?!

CHAPTER 16

Cisco

When he was thirteen, Cisco’s mother signed him up for salsa classes. What awkward teenage kid wanted to take dance classes? Certainly not him, and he hated it. He was one of the only boys in the class, and none of the girls were interested in dancing with him. He had been a scrawny, awkward kid, so he couldn’t blame them. His early teenage years were not kind to him, and he lacked the grace and poise salsa classes demanded.

It wasn’t until his early twenties that he acquired an appreciation for dance in any form. It helped that he gained more control of his body because he wasn’t a lanky teenage boy anymore. Dance was sensual and commanded a lot of trust between partners. This was one area Cisco wasn’t sure Marisol was completely on board with. She was guarded, and that often came across as standoffish. He was quick to see through the cracks in her armor though. There was more she was holding in and not telling him.

Marisol held her emotions close and kept people at an arm’s length. He wanted to completely shatter that barrierbetween them, and there was no better way than the closeness dance provided.

He found out last week that a speakeasy downtown was holding a beginners’ salsa lesson for partners. He had never purchased tickets faster, even though he didn’t talk to Marisol about it beforehand. Part of him knew, if he asked her beforehand, she would immediately shut down the idea. Maybe keeping it from her was shitty, but he couldn’t bring himself to be too sorry about it.

“What is this place?” It was the first thing Marisol asked since he picked her up and dropped the bomb about going dancing. Honestly, though, she took it better than he expected.

The two of them stepped into Rosa’s Hideaway, a cozy speakeasy-style bar and restaurant that felt like a step back in time to the Roaring Twenties, though with a few modern touches. The dim lighting cast a warm glow over the rich mahogany furnishings, while vintage jazz music played softly in the background. The lounge area featured a handful of plush brown leather couches, inviting guests to sit and relax. Nearby, several high-top tables offered additional seating, their polished surfaces reflecting the soft amber glow of the antique-inspired chandeliers. Toward the back, a small cleared space with large speakers stood ready for dancing, promising a lively atmosphere as the night unfolded.

“This is Rosa’s,” Cisco said, leading her to the bar. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Am I really going to have to dance?” she asked him.

“You are,” he said, unable to hide his smug satisfaction.

“Then I’m going to need a vodka tonic. Heavy on the vodka.”

Cisco ordered their drinks before leading Marisol to one of the leather couches. Light, jazzy music played in thebackground, adding to the ambiance. A few other couples and groups had already arrived and were speaking amongst themselves.

Marisol took a seat, crossing her legs before taking the offered drink. “You know, I expected lunch when you said you wanted to see me again.”

“That would be predictable, Princesa. I don’t like predictable,” Cisco mused, taking a drink of his whiskey. He loved the smoky taste and the way it burned his throat as it went down. “Besides, this gives me an excuse to touch you.”

He watched as the flush in her cheeks deepened. She tried to hide it behind her glass, but she couldn’t hide from him. Her gaze swept across the room, quietly assessing the other patrons. Her painted fingers tapped against the couch, her knee bouncing to its own rhythm—a habit he’d come to recognize whenever she found herself in an unfamiliar setting. Her eyes lingered on him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

He noticed. He always noticed.

“If you want to touch me, there are better places for you to do that,” Marisol said, her heated gaze traveling up and down his body before locking with his. “But I suppose this will do.”

Visions of him running his hands along the curves of her naked body played in his mind. The whimpers of pleasure he desperately wanted to rip from her lips. Her moans he wanted to capture in a kiss. This line of thinking went straight to his cock, and the last thing he needed right now was to start dancing with Marisol with a raging hard-on.

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