Page 92 of Wicked

We glide elegantly around the older and less skilled guests, and we mix up our styles. Our fingers are often linked, and Dante is confident, sure, and an expert.

Like in love making.

As I wait for Dante to pull me back in again, I lift my chin and raise my free arm higher. I even show off a little.

A couple of Italian men cheer, and I see my teacher scowl.

I spin around twice on the way back to him, and I slam against his chest. I then push my butt against his crotch.

Only serious salsa dancers would notice the extra pause or non-standard move. I would never do it under bright lights, but as we move on the side of the dance floor, we are under the trees and only lit by moonlight.

I place a palm on one of Dante’s hips, and I push off as he spins me again.

I grin darkly, knowing he is hardening. Hardening because of me.

As we pass each other again, our faces are inches away. “Vixen,” comes low, but it’s clear.

I smirk. Teasing is one of Dante’s primary manipulation tools. It’s now one of mine too! As we continue on, I feel more eyes on us. I don’t mind, because for once in my life, I feel confident, alive, and free.

“You’re distracted,” Dante says low in passing.

“Thinking,” I huff, inches from his face.

“About?”

“Education,” I say before biting his ear and spinning away.

On my return, I’m panting, hot, and I hear, “That’s good.”

Our eyes hold, and we spin around each other, mixing up our moves. “And the next class?”

Before Dante can answer, we notice several new men watching us. They are all striking, and they are all impeccably dressed in black suits. They also look dangerous.

“Who are they?” I ask, nervous.

As Dante circles me, he brings me in closer and slower. He appears serious, and the exciting, electric moment we had is gone.

“They’re…”

“Who?”

“You don’t want to know,” he says, pulling me in close. As we move slow, chest to chest, I have time to think. He has to meanmafia.

I try not to look at them, but carefully, I do. For dangerous guys, they’re hot, as hot as I’ve ever seen. Feeling their eyes on me is scary, but it also sends a thrilling energy down my spine.

I peer back at Dante, and he looks serious. Serious, protective, and hot. My heart pounds with adrenaline, and it’s confusing, dangerous, andsexy.

39

DANTE

I can still feel their eyes on us, and I don’t like it. I carefully monitor the small group of mafia soldiers under the trees, and I’ve not seen a group like this in years. Openly mafia, and this close to home.

As Raven and I dance, I keep her close.

It’s now obvious we made a scene, and it was foolish of me. I should not have let go, even if I could not help myself this close to her.

As the mafia soldiers look on, I wonder what level they are. If they’re simply soldiers or if they are seniors in large families. Sons of dons, or worse, the eldest sons.

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