Page 77 of Faking It

“Isn’t it coincidental that she’s friends with someone like Micah, a guy with said connections?”

She crosses her arms on her lap, her frown deepening. “We’re not having that conversation again, Gideon. Tori wouldn’t sell me out like that. Besides, if I lose, she loses.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Positive.”

Her rigid posture and firm expression tells me not to push it. I don’t want anything spoiling our night. “Okay. I’ll drop it. You know Tori way better than me.”

As I press the button to start the car, her shoulders relax. “Thank you.” She reclines in the seat.

Ana asks if she could connect her phone to my entertainment system, and I oblige. A Latin rhythm starts up as I pull away from the curb. The pulsating beat is the only sound in the car as I steer through rush hour traffic to the outskirts of the city. Ana interrupts the music once to ask where we’re going, and just like all the other times she asked this week, I tell her it’s a surprise. With a quirk of her mouth, she backs down and stares out the window for the rest of the journey, her fingers tapping the edge of her knee.

We soon arrive at a small, red-brick building right behind the commercial district. Ana glances up at the sign, then looks at me skeptically. “Seriously?”

“Don’t I look serious to you?” I ask, despite my grin.

She groans. “Gideon, I told you I don’t—”

“Shh.” I press my finger to her lips. “We’re cutting that word from your vocabulary this very minute.”

Ana glares at me when I remove my finger, but she doesn’t say a word as I get out. Still, I feel the tension in her walk as we step through revolving doors that lead us to a dimly lit room. It’s already packed, salsa music wafting through the speakers, couples dancing sensually on the wooden floor. Heads turn as I ease through the crowd, my hold tight on Ana’s wrist. We stop at a short distance away, sandwiched between the dance floor and people looking on.

“Let me guess. I told you I’m scared of learning salsa dancing, and you brought me here to teach me, anyway.”

I nod. “Correct.”

She scoffs, glancing around at the people watching us, some with their phones out. “And you expect me to learn with a bunch of people recording me. Some romantic you are.”

“Who said anything about teaching you in front of a crowd?” I ask, eyeing a man approaching us dressed in full black, his dark hair pulled into a man-bun. He comes up to us with a friendly smile. “Are you ready, Gideon?”

Realization dawns on Ana’s face, and she chuckles, taking my offered hand. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I hope that’s a compliment.”

She shrugs as we follow Emilio down a narrow hallway. “I’ll let you know after the lesson.”

Our dance instructor leads us into a smaller, private room covered with wooden floors, with half of the wall covered with floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Emilio walks over to a stereo system and presses a button. A sensual samba fills the space. He turns, smiling at us.

“Ready?”

I nod, and Ana breathes nervously as I offer her my hand. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you about my dancing,” she says. “I won’t apologize for crushing your toes.”

Emilio starts with a fundamental tutorial, making us face each other, our fingers linked, maintaining eye contact as we take slow, alternative steps, shifting our bodies to the opposite side. She’s a fast learner and soon loosens up, which allows Emilio to move to the next level.

“Move closer. Slip your arm around the small of her back,” he instructs me. “Ana, rest your hand on his hip. Keep those fingers linked. Now, we’re going to pick up the pace.”

He goes to the stereo and changes the music to an upbeat song that still carries a sensual tone. Following his instructions, we repeat the steps we’ve just learned, our bodies brushing each time we come together. It’s like rubbing stones, each connection adding friction, her curves pressing against my hardness. My body comes alive with desire. Sparks go off. Pretty soon, I’m sure there will be flames.

Ana tilts her chin and peers up at me, and from the lust in her eyes, I’m not the only one feeling these sparks. Her hold tightens on me. Soft breaths come from her mouth. She should’ve worn a bra tonight because those nipples confirm exactly what’s happening to her body right now. My hand dips a little lower, just above the curve of her ass. I’m itching to move further down, to squeeze her firmness, but I won’t.

Our lesson ends, and after thanking Emilio, we return to the main area. Ana feels a little shy about trying out her new moves in front of everyone, but we still linger for a while, slow dancing in a corner of the room. My cock is semi-hard by the time we leave to catch our reservation at a popular Italian restaurant downtown. I lead her through the crowd while acknowledging people who greet me, thanking the stars that the room is dimly-lit.

Ana gets extra quiet on the ride over and keeps squirming in her seat. Her nipples are even more erect, pressed against the fabric like they want to escape. The sight is not helping my attempt to will this erection away. The urge to pull the car over and address what’s happening between us is so fucking strong. I’m aching for her. It’s so frustrating, knowing she wants me too but is afraid to let go.

With a sigh, I put a little weight on the gas, wanting to get to our destination before I go completely caveman. It wouldn’t be right to show Ana that brutal side after what she went through.

We get to the restaurant with five minutes to spare, which also gives me time to cool down. Based on Ana’s slow breaths, she needs cooling down, too. She runs her fingers through her hair, tousling the curves, giving it a sexy look. I adjust myself, knowing this erection is going nowhere anytime soon. Every action from Ana turns me on.

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