Page 55 of Damaged Mogul
I’m so glad to see him––more than I should be considering he’s been ignoring me––but I’m determined not to show it.
You’re not a prepubescent teenage girl, so play it cool.“Hey.” Okay not exactly cool, but at least I didn’t come across like an overexcited puppy.
My heart thuds in erratic beats making it impossible to string a sentence together.
He takes me in, his gaze traveling down to my feet, up my legs, hips, brushing up my body to my breasts, before returning to my face, which I’m sure is a violent shade of crimson.
“May I cut in?” The question should be addressed to Cesar, but Gage’s green eyes are still fixed on me.
I answer with a shy nod.
“Of course,” Cesar says, before breaking out of our dance position and taking a step back. “It was a pleasure.”
“Thank you for being so courageous.” I grimace.
“You’re selling yourself short, Lily.”
“I doubt it.” I scoff.
Cesar’s eyes shift to Gage’s. “A few more lessons, and this one”––he points at me––“will dance like a pro.”
“I got it from here.”
The two men exchange a silent conversation I’m not privy to.
“I’m sure you do,” Cesar says. “I’ll go give my sexy Dominican wife some salsa lessons.” He laughs his head off. “Catch you kids later.” He pats the tall mountain of a man standing in front of me on the shoulder.
For a beat, we stare at each other.
Even in my skyscraper heels, our height difference is laughable.
He takes me in his arms.
Wild flutters go off in my belly at the contact.
I hitch a breath, as my mind goes a bit hazy.
He takes a sharp one, and lets it out in a swift exhale.
I’m not sure if my inexperience is causing me to see things that are only a mirage, but I swear, there’s something between us.
I felt safe in Cesar’s arms––like you would in your older brother’s embrace. Gage’s proximity is dizzying. And intoxicating. And all-encompassing.
Our bodies move to the rhythm of the beat.
Needing to dump a bucket of cold water over my body to ebb the burning flames of desire, I speak, “Cesar is building me up. I can dance to pop music, but no one will confuse me for a ballroom dancer.”
“That makes two of us,” he says.
“You don’t salsa?”
“I get by, but you won’t catch me doing any crazy moves.” He jerks his chin in Arianne and Beckett’s direction. Other than those two, there are a few couples showing off their best salsa moves on the dance floor.
Gage gives me a twirl. Nothing crazy.
When he catches me in his arms, I lose my breath.
My happy martini induced buzz from earlier is nothing compared to how lightheaded I am right now.
