Page 37 of Love at First Ink

“You promise?”

Cisco made the motion of crossing his heart with his finger. “Swear.”

She looked at him intently before finishing up her drink, placing the empty glass on the table. She reached out for his hand. “Fine. Let’s do this. But I reserve the right to hold this against you if it goes badly.”

“You can hold whatever you want against me. It would be my honor.” He winked, taking her hand and leading Marisol out on the dance floor with the rest of the patrons.

CHAPTER 17

Marisol

She didn’t have enough to drink to mentally prepare herself for being pressed up this close to Cisco. She had been under the delusion that they would ease into such an intimate dance, but clearly the instructors didn’t subscribe to the same school of thought.

“We are going to start with the basics. It’ll look like this,” María said. Savi took her hand and placed his other high on her hip. They counted the eight beats out loud as they moved in sync with each other, ending with Savi pulling María to his body, dipping her. His hand traveled to her thigh, and the two were locked in such an intense stare that Marisol felt like she was intruding on something.

An excited murmur went through the onlookers as they faced off with their partners. If Cisco could hear just how fast her heart was beating, she would be mortified. She didn’t hide her nervousness well, though, because Cisco started to sway his hips, overly dramatizing the movements.

“You can’t tell me this doesn’t turn you on.” He did a weird little thrust that had her laughing out loud.

“I will do anything for you to stop doing that.” She grinned.

His eyes darkened, a goofy grin forming on his lips. “I think a kiss would stop me.”

A kiss might stop him, but it would definitely heat her body and leave her wanting more. “Play your cards right, and you might just get one.”

He grasped at his chest, panting. “Ah, Princesa, you wound me.”

She highly doubted that but didn’t get a chance to say as much because they were approached by Savi. The man was pretty, dressed similarly in all black. Judging by the perfection of his unblemished skin, he had an even more extensive skincare routine than Marisol. She had half the mind to ask.

“And how are you two doing?” he asked in a slightly accented voice. Cuban, maybe. “Do you need me to demonstrate the dance again? I’d be happy to for Marisol.”

Cisco’s hold on her tightened as he pulled her closer, nearly flush against his hard chest. “We are doing fine.” There was an unmistakable hardness in his voice that wasn’t there before. Her body tingled at the possessiveness of it. Normally, she would be pissed if anyone felt entitled to her, but clearly her body felt differently when it came to Cisco.

Marisol leaned into him, just to see what he’d do. A shaky breath left his lips, revealing just how much she was affecting him too. Good. She didn’t want to be the only one unhinged when it came to the other.

Savi didn’t appear offended. If anything, his smile only widened. “Ah, my apologies. I see there is no need for my assistance here. Your chemistry is”—he brought his fingers up to his lips and kissed—“so good.” He winked atthem before moving toward the older couple next to them who argued over hand placement.

Once they were alone again, Marisol looked up at Cisco through her lashes. “We’re doing fine, are we?” She couldn’t help but tease.

Cisco, who looked ready to pounce on poor Savi, relaxed his body. No signs of his annoyance lingered when he smiled at her. “We are. You’re in capable hands. I’m a pro.”

“A pro?” she mused.

“Mhm, yup. You're looking at a two-time junior runner-up in dance. Runner-up because the kid who always won was the child of the owners.” He chuckled.

“Good. Now prove it.”

Cisco took that as a challenge. The room filled with the sound of a Spanish love ballad and the counts from both María and Savi as they guided people through the dance. Turns out, Cisco wasn’t lying about being a runner-up. He was good. Damn good. Marisol didn’t have time to feel self-conscious or silly at the quick footwork or the way her hips moved awkwardly during the parts she was least familiar with.

None of that mattered with Cisco because he didn’t make her feel like she had to be perfect. She could stumble through a move, and he wouldn’t get mad or berate her for her incompetence. He laughed with her, guided her through the steps she couldn’t master with patience, and never once made her feel small.

This was how it was supposed to be. Not something she had to hide back her tears or stress over because she desperately wanted to impress her mother. No, she felt light on her feet. She was havingfun.Her laugh was genuine, and her mouth hurt from smiling too much.

One hand stayed in his the entire time, while her othertouched different parts of him. His arm, shoulder, chest, and back. Each new place, she discovered something new about his body. How his muscles would flex each time she dragged her nails down his arm. The way his eyes never strayed from her, no matter what they were doing. This close, she could make out the tattoos creeping up along his neck.

Then he pulled her close again, her back pressed against his chest. She felt the heat of his breath against her neck. She had to remind herself to breathe. It just became increasingly more difficult when his hand ran down the flat expanse of her stomach to her navel. Her head tilted back to meet Cisco’s sultry eyes.

This man was breathtaking. His tattoos didn’t just add to his appeal; they deepened the sense of mystery surrounding him. Intricate black and gray designs covered his forearms, a mix of bold geometric patterns and delicate, swirling script that hinted at stories only he knew. A serpent coiled around his wrist, its sharp eyes watching, while a compass rested on his biceps, as if guiding him toward something greater.

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