Page 36 of Love at First Ink

Trying to covertly readjust himself, he cleared his throat, attempting to find a safer and tamer topic. “Have you danced before?”

Marisol nodded. “I was put into dance lessons the moment I learned to walk. Or at least that’s how it felt. My mom wantedto be sure I didn’t have two left feet and embarrass our family at my dad’s events. I’m not sure I was ever as good as she wanted me to be, though.”

“Did your dad have a lot of events?”

She laughed, but there was no humor in her voice. “Tons. It felt like I was going to one every week. My sister could sometimes get out of it, but I never could. Turns out years of formal dance training wasn’t needed at these events. People mostly just stood around, talked and sipped on their wine.”

He wondered what it would be like growing up like that. Where every weekend was already planned for you, and you were expected to play a part. Cisco had a great childhood, albeit humble. His parents didn’t have much, considering they immigrated to the States at only eighteen years old. But he never thought about all the things he didn’t have growing up in California; he only thought about the fun and love his parents gave him.

He got the impression that, from a young age, Marisol had a job to perform, and her parents—specifically her mother—made sure she pulled her weight.

“I will say, on the rare occasion I did dance, none of my partners were as cute as you,” Marisol said coyly, still hiding the glass in front of her beautiful face, obstructing his view.

Cisco’s lips twitched at the corners before pulling into a grin. “You think I’m cute?” he teased.

“I think you’re alright,” she said playfully. It wasn’t a side he saw a lot of, but he fucking loved it.

“Nah, Princesa, you already said it. I’m cute as hell.”

“I take it back; you’re a nightmare.” She swatted at his chest.

But Cisco grabbed her hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it. The tone switched from playful tointense so quickly. “You look beautiful,” he murmured. “So damn beautiful.”

Marisol’s breath hitched, pupils dilating. Her gaze seared him from the inside out, and he was drawn to her like a moth to light. She wet her lips, and that was the only thing Cisco could pay attention to. He wanted to kiss her. To taste her. He wanted to?—

“Buenos tardes, mis amigos,” a feminine voice broke the trance.

He was so close to kissing her again. Their last kiss had been too short, too soft. He wanted more, but if he kissed her now, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

Marisol gathered herself before him and pulled back. He followed suit, turning his body to see a woman in a brown knee-length dress. She smiled at the few people sitting around with drinks in their hands. There weren't many. Maybe twenty at most, but enough to make the small room feel crowded.

“My name is María, and this is my partner, Savi. We’re going to be your dance instructors tonight,” the woman said, smiling at the room.

“Do we have anyone familiar with salsa dancing?” the male instructor—Savi—asked the group.

A few people, including Cisco, raised their hands.

“Ah good, we have some experts here tonight.” María laughed. “For those of you who don’t know, salsa is a Latin American dance. It combines many dance styles together to create energetic footwork, quick hip movements, and fluid turns. It’s both precisely fast and elegantly slow. Think of it like fire and ice.”

“It’s a romantic dance,” Savi added. “You’ll be up close and personal with your partner, learning each other’s bodies and movements. This is supposed to be fun and sensual. Take a fewmoments to finish your drinks and then join María and me on the dance floor.”

There was a polite round of applause for the instructors before everyone went back to their drinks. A few people glanced at Cisco but quickly averted their eyes. He didn’t mind the stares because, half of the time, it was to admire his tattoos. Other times it was full of judgment, but he didn’t give a fuck about what a stranger thought of him.

Except for Marisol.

When he turned around, she scowled at him.

“What?” He looked down, making sure he hadn’t spilled something on his shirt or ripped his clothes.

“Nothing,” she said, though it was clearly something. He let the silence settle between them until Marisol blurted out, “I mean I can dance, but I’ve never done this style before.”

Ah, so she was nervous. He could work with that.

“No problem, just let me lead you.” Cisco shrugged. “You’ll do fine.”

“And when I fall on my ass or embarrass myself, I’ll remind you what you just said,” she shot back.

“I’ll protect that pretty ass, Princesa, just trust me.” He grinned. “I’m not going to let you fall.”

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