Page 82 of Shiver

The song talks about living in the moment and not waiting for tomorrow to show affection to the people you love.

I turn my face away from his as he twirls me out before winding me back up into his arms. My low back extends, and he plants his hands firmly above my ass, providing the stability I need to dip backward. My gaze lands on the smiling faces of my family, and my chest fills with warmth.

My tense muscles relax, and I feel myself finally ready to let go.Just for tonight.

Luca spins us so our backs are pressed to one another, and we sway our hips, our asses touching as we do, and our hands are intertwined overhead.

He twirls us back together, and this time, his hands are covering my ass, grinding me into him. There’s a feral glint in his eyes, and my breaths become shallow.

God, he’s gorgeous.

“You’re fucking stunning, princess,” he mutters, twining one of his hands into my hair, pulling my face into his shoulder as we dance in place, our hips continuing to sway with the beat, but we’re both working to catch our breath.

“We can’t let your parents show us up, sweetheart.” He breathes into my ear before pushing me away from him, only to draw me back in. We maintain about a foot of space between us as he holds one of my hands and presses his other to my lower belly. Luca leans his top half forward, and I mirror him, shimmying our shoulders and pressing our foreheads together for a beat before he spins me so my back is pressed to his front.

We press ourselves tightly together, grinding against each other as we sway our hips, and I slide down his body and back up. Luca drags his hands up my sides and pulls my arms up and over our heads, as he rests his cheek against the side of my head.

My pulse is racing, and my thighs burn with the effort it takes to stay upright while this gorgeous man has me in his arms, and I feel like I could shatter in his embrace.

When the song begins to speed up for the last time, Luca must be able to tell because he widens his stance, lowering himself into a squat, and positions me over his right leg, settling me down onto him. I jump off his leg, smiling brightly as he pulls me back onto his thigh, my legs swinging backward and then to the front to straddle him as I grind against his knee. He bucks his leg up, pulling me into him, and as the song comes to a close, he twirls me out, my left arm and his right fully extended before he rolls me back into his chest, tugging me tightly to him. Everyone claps loudly, whistling at the couples still left on the dance floor, and of course, my parents are included.

They have such wide smiles as they look dreamily into each other’s eyes, and I can’t help the pang I feel in my chest.

I want that.

The next song is “Mi Corazoncito.”3 Frustration flares through me at just how annoyingly perfect these songs are for describing the feelings even I don’t fully understand. It’s a song about heartache, regret, desire for reconciliation, and the rollercoaster of emotions that can be felt during the back and forth of a relationship you aren’t sure is meant to be but can’t seem to keep fighting.

Luca and I maintain eye contact as he walks backward, very dramatically might I add. He keeps about two yards between us, and as the music speeds up, he starts to mirror my movements, bending his elbows and shifting his weight from one foot to the next.

We close the distance between us, and he reaches out for my hands, drawing them into his chest and holding them there as we bounce around one another with quick steps. Luca’s smoldering gaze shifts to a small grin, making that dimple I hate to love pop out from the corner of his mouth. “How do you do that with your hips?” he asks.

I look down between us, trying to figure out what he means because he looked like he was doing fine all on his own.

I drag my hands down his chest, reveling in the way his muscles ripple under my touch, before removing them and taking a step back, standing in front of his on flat feet. “I think the heels help a bit because it has the balls of my feet already in the right position for it, but”—I point to either side of my hips—“you kind of shift your weight between one foot to the next, moving your hips like a washing machine.”

He smirks. “A washing machine?”

A loud laugh escapes me, but I rest my hands on his hips. “Mirror my movements, hip up, roll your abdomen into the movement, and bend this knee”—I point to the opposite one—“and end on the ball of this foot.”

He does as I say, and no surprise to anyone, he executes it perfectly. “Yep, just like that. Now do it again but on the other side.”

“Like this?” he asks, snaking his hands out to grab my hands, twining his fingers through them.

I nod, my breath caught in my throat as he runs his lips over my knuckles. “Thanks,principessa,”he murmurs, dragging my body back into his.

Something tells me this man knew exactly what he was doing the whole time.

He moves us around the center of the dance floor, spinning me out and twirling me back into his body. When the song hits a high point, we pull away from one another, our hands still interlocked as I twist, and we drop to the floor with my legs straight and core tight like a plank. Luca keeps me hovering a foot off the ground before dragging me back up against his hard chest. My hands rest on his chest, and he runs a thumb over my cheek, tucking my hair back behind my ear.

He pulls me in close, rolling his hips against mine. He groans low in my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin. “Fuck, princess. This wasn’t supposed to get me so hard, especially not in public,” he whines.

I love the sound of this man, desperate and always so needy. He makes sure I know exactly what he’s thinking all the time, and I appreciate it as someone who has to rely on my own perception of a situation all the time. Sometimes it’s nice just to have someone tell me what they’re thinking instead of making me guess. It gets exhausting.

“Sounds like a personal problem,” I whisper, not bothering to hide the laughter from my voice.

“Wearea couple, Samara. We could tackle it together,” he says, sliding his hands down my sides and cupping my ass so my front is pressed against him.

By divine intervention, the song changes again.4 It gives me the opportunity to swing out of his grasp, a playful smile turning my lips as I dance around him. I don’t miss the loud groan he releases before shaking his limbs out and positioning himself in front of me.

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