Rio enters me in one deep, delicious stroke, taking my breath away. He’s so hot, so hard and powerful, but he moves slow and easy, letting me adjust to his size. Intense tingling pleasure, warm and liquid, begins to build. I can tell by his bunched muscles, his ragged breathing that he’s holding back for my sake and I fall a little more in love with Rio Martin. I ease into a slow and steady rhythm with him while running my hands over his sleek, smooth back.
With each long and lazy stroke my excitement builds until I wrap my legs around his waist so he can go deeper, faster. He whispers Spanish in my ear and I don’t need to know what he says . . . all I need to do is feel. Sweet, hot pleasure winds tighter and tighter . . . exquisite, almost painful in the intensity. I arch my back so that we are skin to skin, heart to thumping heart, while I climb higher, searching for blessed relief . . .
“Rio, God,” I say and he slides his hands under my ass, going faster, deeper, harder until an orgasm bursts upon me like a wave cresting and then crashing to the shore. Rio thrusts deep, stiffens, and comes right along with me.
“Mi Dios,” he mutters weakly and I’m pretty sure that means my God. Still buried deep within me he captures my mouth and kisses me thoroughly while I’m reeling with little aftershocks.
My world has finally been rocked.
Finally, he leans against the back of the seat, giving me room to lie next to him, and I really wish we were in bed so we could snuggle and then fall asleep together maybe to wake up in a couple of hours to do it all over again. As it is I have to be content with him holding me close in the cramped confines of the car. I kiss his chest where his heart is still beating wildly.
When he chuckles and kisses me on top of the head I tilt my face up and he looks at me for a long moment as if wondering just what to say. Then he leans in and kisses me tenderly, which is nice and all, but I get the feeling it’s to avoid what needs to be said. “You were amazing, Abby.”
Of course I blush hotly, enough that he can probably see it in the dim lighting.
“You know that, right?”
I shrug, not to be modest but because I really don’t know that, and then brace myself for what he’s about to say because I’m hearing a really big but in all of this. Why does there always have to be a but?
“But tomorrow we need to go back to instructor and student.”
“Y-you mean and forget this ever happened?”
He shakes his head. “I couldn’t forget this ever happened if I wanted to . . . and I don’t.” He runs his fingertip down my cheek and I wait for the next big but to come. “But we need to concentrate on the dancing. This was bound to happen,” he says and then hesitates.
“But . . .” I prompt, and he finishes, “We have to get back to business.”
I lick my lips and then ask softly, “So, was this an effort to get me out of your system? Like the kiss?”
“No,” he says firmly, “but if it had been, it would have been a dismal failure.”
I’m confused. “So . . . we’re back to the resistance plan?” I hate that plan.
“I’m afraid so but now it’s even worse.”
I raise my eyebrows. “How so?”
“Because now I know that being with you was even better than I had imagined . . . and I have quite an active imagination,” he tries to joke but we both know that this situation royally sucks.
“So, it’s like we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t?”
“Yeah, like that.”
“Well, hellfire. I don’t see any way to make lemonade outta this one without getting squirted smack dab in the eye.”
He mulls this over for a second and then chuckles a bit sadly. “You know, I’m finally starting to understand your language.”
“Well, I still don’t understand a word of Spanish except for the fact that it really turns me on. You could be telling me off and I would still melt.”
Rio laughs and says, “Posterguemos el plan de la resistencia para un pequeño más largo. Vendrá mañana por la mañana pronto bastante.”
“Were you telling me off?” I joke. Isn’t it funny how you can joke when your heart is sort of breaking? Must be a defense mechanism or something.
“I’m not sure what telling you off means but I don’t think so.”
“Then what were you sayin’?” I ask when I pretty much have it figured out.
Rio hesitates like he doesn’t want to say what he really has to say so I bide my time, drawing little patterns with my fingertip on his bare chest. He has a really nice chest. Finally I decide to help him out. “I get it, Rio. We’re good together but can’t be together because of complications beyond our control. Like the fact that there is a ballroom dancing competition that means so much to me and shouldn’t be compromised by having a relationship with my instructor. Oh, and beyond that there is the fact that we’re from totally different backgrounds . . . different countries, for goodness’ sake. Oh yeah, and you’ll be leaving here forever in just a few short weeks. What else is there to say?” I ask sadly, totally leaving out Angelina because I hope she isn’t part of the complications even though I think that she might be.
“I basically said that tomorrow it’s back to business, but it’s not tomorrow yet . . .”
“Oh.”
“So, are you, how do you say, catching my drift?”
I answer him with a long hot kiss. In the back of my brain I know that taking my relationship to this level with Rio might not have been the smartest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve already developed feelings for him and this is going to make it so much harder when he’s gone.
But I won’t think about that now while I’m in his arms and he’s whispering Spanish love words in my ear . . . at least I think they’re love words.
Tomorrow will come soon enough.
15
Blame It on Rio
“I know, I know, I just can’t believe it,” Julia says to me as she tops off my glass of wine. “Angelina,” she says, drawing out the dreaded name and adding a head bop followed by a finger wave, “is hardly Danny’s type.”
“Oh, I wholeheartedly agree,” I assure Julia and then take a sip of wine. I know that I’ve sworn off wine but it’s been such a tough week that I couldn’t resist a glass . . . or two. “I just don’t know what he’s thinkin’.”
This draws a snort from Julia. “Well, I’ll tell ya. He’s thinking with the little head instead of the big one.”
“What?” I don’t get it.
“His dick, Abby. Angelina is leading Danny around by his dick.”
“Oh, the little head . . .” I say and then giggle behind my hand when I sort of picture it in my mind, but Julia doesn’t think it’s all that funny and frowns at me.
“Sorry,” I tell her, feeling bad that I laughed when she is in such distress. “I had just never heard that expression before.”
She waves a hand in my direction. “You’re such a nice girl. Sorry I was such a shit to you in high school.”
I shrug it off because I realize that it truly doesn’t matter anymore and it makes me smile. Wow, the chip on my shoulder is officially gone. How about that?
“You really weren’t a shit . . . just basically ignored me.” It’s hard to believe, though, that I’m sitting here in Julia’s room sharing a bottle of white wine and some little cheese squares and thin round crackers that she brought out neatly arranged on a plastic tray. In fact, everything in her room is neat and tidy, unlike my own, but after a long day of dancing I really haven’t felt the need to tidy up.
And the days have been long, not to mention difficult. After steaming up the windows in Rio’s fancy rental car, he has felt the need to stick to the resistance plan of action, which translates to no action. I fully understand why and all but it doesn’t make it easy. On top of that, the jive is damned difficult. There are tons of flicks, kicks, and twirls with lightning-fast feet movement. My big feet just weren’t meant to move fast as lightnin’. I have fallen on my ass no less than each and every
day. Today I tripped Rio and we both ended up in a tangled heap that I had hoped would lead to some hot and heavy kissing but he merely tugged me to my tired feet and demanded we do the whole dance over even though it was lunchtime.
“So, do you think Danny and Angelina are doin’ it?” Julia asks and her lips tremble like she’s on the verge of tears.
“No,” I assure her firmly, but in truth I’m not so sure. Danny and Angelina were all over each other at dinner. Well, she was all over him but he didn’t seem to mind. “I think he might have been trying to make you jealous.”
Her lips stop trembling and she perks up. “You think?”
“Well . . .” I begin as I pick up another slice of cheddar and a cracker. Dinner was this weird stuffed fish drizzled with sauce that smelled funny. I only pushed it around my plate, so this is a welcome snack. I’m dying for some of Mama’s meat loaf.
“Abby!”
“Oh, sorry.” I stop daydreaming about Mama’s cooking and say, “I really do believe that Danny might be tryin’ to make you jealous.” I leave out the part that he was going to try that very same plan only using me. I know that I’m sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong but the wine has loosened my lips. Besides, I didn’t like him flirting with that dark-haired hussy either. Not that I have any designs on Danny anymore. My sights are set on Rio. “He’s not over you, Julia.” This much I know is true.
“I know that, I guess. He’s just bein’ hardheaded and stubborn.” She leans back against the headboard and takes a sip of wine.
“He thinks—”
“That I don’t think he’s good enough for me,” she interrupts with a shake of her head.
“You already know that?” I ask from the other bed where my tired feet are propped up on two feather pillows.
“Oh, Abby, Danny thought I wanted a frat boy on my arm when he got cut from Eastern Kentucky football. But I really wanted to go to college to cheerlead. Could you imagine cheering in front a huge crowd like that? On national television?” She sighs as if she’s imagining it right now.
“No, I can’t. Of course I couldn’t imagine ballroom dancing in front of a crowd on national television either.”
“Well, I wanted it so danged bad. I even had a partial scholarship to Eastern Kentucky but . . .” Her cheeks turn pink and then she admits, “My grades and my ACT scores weren’t good enough. I always struggled in school, Abby. The whole blond bimbo cheerleader thing wasn’t an act. I really thought I was a dumb blonde.”
“You’re not dumb!”
“No, I’m dyslexic.”
“What? Dyslexic?” I think about this for a moment. “Like, you get letters backward or somethin’?”
“My case is mild compared to others, but yeah. I always had a hard time reading and I would get directions wrong even in cheerleading. My mom thought I was a screwup and my daddy called me lazy.” Her blue eyes cloud over. “In grade school I would have to miss recess or stay after school to finish things and I used to shake when I had to read out loud. I never got the point of reading out loud anyway.”
She pauses and then says hotly, “I wasn’t lazy or a screw-off. In reality I had to work so much harder than the other kids to accomplish the things I did. To compensate I felt the need to be the most popular girl in school and the best cheerleader ever. Pretend that it wasn’t cool to get good grades when I so wanted to be on the damned honor roll just once.”
“When did you find out what was wrong?”
“In cosmetology school. My teacher had it and knew immediately what my problem was. I could learn when I watched but had difficulty with the reading comprehension.” Julia shakes her head and chuckles. “Mercy, I thought I was gonna be a beauty school dropout.”
We both break into the song from Grease and then burst into laughter.
“Abby, did we just bond?”
“I think so.”
“Good, ’cause I could use a friend.”
I take a sip of wine and ask, “So, are you over the dyslexic thing?”
Julia shakes her head and sighs. “You don’t outgrow it and there isn’t a cure or even a pill. You just have to live with it. Hey, there are plenty of famous people with dyslexia. Thomas Edison, Picasso, Leonardo da Vinci, and even Jay Leno to name a few.”
“Wow, Jay Leno?”
“Yeah, I think sometimes we overcompensate,” she says with a laugh.
“So, what are you going to do about Danny?”
“I dunno. What are you going to do about smokin’ hot Rio? You two light it up on the dance floor. You been lightin’ it up between the sheets?”
I almost choke on my wine.
Julia grins. “Yeah, it’s that obvious. Damn, y’all are gonna be hard to beat.”
“Not unless I can master the doggone jive. That dance is hard. I keep falling on my ass,” I tell her, steering her away from her question.
“It’s gotta be better than the boring fox-trot!” Pursing her lips she says, “Danny is doing the very sexy rumba with that bitch.”
“Tell me how you really feel, Julia. Don’t hold back, now.”
Julia giggles. “I can’t help it. I always cuss when I drink,” she admits and then suddenly sits up from slouching against the pillows. “Hey, maybe I should make Danny jealous. Two can play that card.”
“With who?”
Tapping her cheek, Julia ponders this for a moment and then brightens. “Ben Sebastian.”
“He’s pretty danged hot,” I have to admit. Not broody-bad-boy hot like Rio but hot in a hip surfer-dude way. “Wouldn’t you feel bad using him like that?”
“Are you kiddin’? He’s been flirtin’ with anyone with boobies. He even flirted with Mary Lou Laker after the whole spinning-out-of-control thing.”
“Maybe he was just being nice. I think he’s really friendly.”
Julia rolls her eyes. “Abby, he was flirtin’ with ya.”
“Oh.”
“Hey, you’re not gonna tell Danny about my plan, are you? ’Cause the two of you were gettin’ pretty cozy there for a while. I havta say that it was pissin’ me off big time.”
“Danny’s a great guy, Julia. I admit that I had a huge crush on him in high school and I thought I might have had a chance with him here at first, but I know he’s still carryin’ a torch for you.”
“You really think he is, Abby?” Her eyes fill up with tears. “I know I messed up all those years ago, but I was a kid and I didn’t know what I wanted. Why can’t he believe that?”
“Well, you’ll just have to bring him around to your way of thinkin’.”
“Yeah,” she says and sets her glass down with a thump.
“And,” I begin but then think better of what I was going to say.
“What?”
I shake my head. “Nothin’.”
“Spill, Abby. Don’t hold out on me.”
“You promise to keep this under your hat?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.” She actually crosses her heart. “Stick a needle in my eye.”
“Ew, I always hated the hope-to-die and needle-in-the-eye part. Take that part back and I’ll tell you.”
“Okay, I take it back.”
“Except for the promise part, right?”
“Except for that,” she says so seriously that I believe her.
“Okay,” I begin, really hoping I’m not making a big mistake by divulging this information.
“The suspense is killin’ me, Abby.”
I swallow and then say in a rush, “Rio and Angelina used to be dance partners.”
“That’s it?” She looks disappointed in my scoop.
“They were a little more than that.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh . . . they were lovers . . .”
I can’t bring myself to say it, so I merely nod. “Angelina’s mean, Julia. She dumped Rio when he hurt his knee and couldn’t dance!” I lean toward her bed and whisper, “Remember to keep it under your hat.” Oh, curse the wine for loosening my lips.
Julia shakes her head. “Who would ever dump Rio Martin?”
“That’s what I was thinkin’,” I say but then give her a you’re-not-having-any-designs-on-him look of warning.
“Don’t worry, I won’t go messin’ with your man.”
“I wasn’t thinkin’ that.”
“Were too.”
I giggle. Girl talk is fun.
Nibbling on her bottom lip Julia suddenly raises her eyebrows. “Do you think that Angelina is using Danny to make Rio jealous?”
“Could be,” I answer but I’m not liking the thought of Angelina using Danny or Rio getting jealous.
Julia must see this written all over my face, because she says, “Not that I think Rio is gonna get jealous or anything. I mean, you’ve got so much more going for you than Angelina anyway.”
“I do?” I’m hoping for examples but none are forthcoming.
“Sure,” is all Julia can manage but she’s frowning like she’s trying to come up with more. “And do you think that Comedy Corner knew about Rio and Angelina’s past and deliberately brought her onto the show to stir things up?”
“Likely, don’t you think?”
“Yeah . . .” she says very slowly. “So what are we gonna do about it?” She cocks one eyebrow like Rio.
“Danged if I know.”
Her eyebrow slides back into place. “Well, we’re gonna havta think of something to thwart their evil plan.”
I don’t think I’ve ever thwarted anything before but I nod like I’m willing to try.
“Thanks for keeping me company, Abby. I hope you get your man, too.”
I shake my head as I set my empty glass down next to hers on the nightstand and scoot to the edge of the bed. “We’re worlds apart,” I tell her, unable to keep the sadness from my voice.
“So what? Are you sayin’ you’re not good enough for him?”
Dancing Shoes and Honky-Tonk Blues Page 15
