Page 6 of Watch Me

“That’s nice of you.” I smile politely.

“Not really. I also came because I knew you would be here.”

My breath catches. “Me?”

“Hmm.” He leads me into another open position, then curls me against his body, my hips crushed against his. “Certainly you feel my…enthusiasm to see you again.”

Definitely. It’s sizable and very hard to miss.

Then he leans me over his arm in an exaggerated dip and follows me until his face is an inch from my breasts. I feel him exhale, his warm breath caressing my cleavage. My nipples bead instantly.

Slowly, he stands me upright again, then spins me until my back rests against his chest. He nestles his erection in the small of my back. The flat of his palm covers my abdomen, and he takes my other hand in his. The gesture must look possessive. It feels that way.

Straight ahead, I see Kristoff dancing with a thin, middle-aged woman whose hair is a dubious shade of red. He peers at me with a questioning brow raised.

Alejandro leads me to swivel my hips against his, in time with the music. Kristoff doesn’t miss a second of our bodies rolling together. In fact, as I look around, I realize we’ve sucked up most of the attention in the room.

A blast of moisture floods my pussy. When people watch me, I get excited. Right now, I hate how true that is.

“Everyone is watching us,” he whispers.

“I see that.” My voice shakes.

He bends and lifts my leg, wrapping my calf around his thigh and urging my head back to his shoulder. Our eyes meet, our mouths inches apart.

His stare strips me naked. God, if he doesn’t stop, I’ll melt against him.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs in my ear, his hand creeping up, dangerously close to my breast.

He spins me to face him, then settles my leg over his hip, pressing his hard cock against my aching center. I swallow back a gasp as our chests press closer. He can probably feel my runaway heartbeat, just like I hear his pounding. His stare is unbearably intimate.

I’m terrified he can read my mind.

“The men staring all want you,” he whispers. “And you like having their eyes on you, don’t you?”

4

Iopen my mouth to deny Alejandro’s dirty little whisper, but his gaze stops me, warning me before I can do anything foolish, like lie.

“I can tell you do.”

His stare is too intense. He digs past my icy defenses, sees the real me, and roots out my shameful secret… He’s a walking wet dream…and my worst nightmare.

How does he know I crave being watched?

Alejandro sways with the music in the opposite direction, bringing me with him. With a gentle caress of my cheek, he directs my gaze back to his, cleverly making it look like a part of the dance.

“You know you do,” he murmurs. “You love that most every man in the room would kill to have your body against his and an up-close view of your smoldering sensuality melting the ice you wrap yourself in.”

His words make me shake because they’re terrifyingly true. “Stop.”

He performs an open step, then brings me back for a box. “Their stares cling to you as you lure them in with the sway ofyour hips perfectly timed with the beat of the music. They’re drawn to your femininity. Their gazes caress your breasts as your chest lifts with every move and breath. They watch the movements of your sleek thighs and ache to lie between them.”

A glance around proves he’s right. Easily a dozen men are openly watching Alejandro and me dance, their gazes ranging from more than mildly interested to sizzling with heat. Desire vibrates deep inside me, pulsing under my clit. How wet can I get before I stain the front of my thin, nearly transparent costume?

And how does Alejandro know exactly what turns me on?

Most people have only seen the driven dancer who yearns to win and make her family proud. No one else has glimpsed the woman inside who uses dance to express the sexuality she otherwise represses.

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