First Position (Dirty Dancing #1)

by Melody Grace

  Raphael clutches his chest and lets out a dramatic groan so loud, for a moment I think he’s hurt. Then I see the glint in his eye and realize, he’s just teasing me.

  “Like ice cream?” he repeats, shaking his head. “You mean you haven’t tried it yet?”

  I shake my head.

  “We’ll have to fix that,” Raphael tells me, laughingly handing me a cold can of soda. “It will change your life, I promise.”

  Our eyes catch, just inches apart in the tiny space. My pulse kicks. I want to tell him that I’ve already had one life-changing experience this week: seeing him dance in the piazza today. But it would sound ridiculous, so I bite my lip instead and look away.

  Raphael steps closer.

  I look back, and my heart catches in my throat to see the expression in his eyes. Raw and hungry, a mirror of the desire clawing at my body. My heartbeat pounds in my ears as I gaze back, powerless to look away.

  Raphael reaches out his hand, and touches his index finger to a lock of hair that’s fallen free around my face. I shiver, suddenly too caught up to even breathe, reveling in the soft touch as he slowly pushes it back behind my ear.

  Oh...

  The soft touch slowly ripples through my entire body. My nipples tighten. Heat pools between my thighs. I don’t understand the spell he’s cast over me, how one minute I feel perfectly normal, and the next, it’s like I’ve leapt off a tall building, in total free-fall towards the ground—loving every second of it.

  All I know, is I want more.

  Eight.

  “Raphael!” Suddenly, there’s a loud, male yell.

  My eyes fly open and Raphael jerks back as another guy barrels into the tiny room. He embraces Raphael with a hearty slap on the back, talking a mile a minute in expressive Italian as he clatters around the tiny space: finding a bottle opener, pouring glasses of red wine, tearing off a hunk of bread from the loaf on the counter.

  My heart races. Holy crap, that was close. I almost kissed a man I’ve known all of five minutes.

  Screw kissing, you nearly dropped your panties and begged him to take you.

  Finally, the guy sees me.

  “Chi è questa?” He asks Raphael, raising his eyebrow in a suggestive look.

  Raphael looks embarrassed. “Annalise, this is my friend, Luca. Luca, Annalise is an American student here. She saw us perform today.”

  “Pleasure to meet you.” Luca brushes crumbs off his shirt and shakes my hand enthusiastically. “Apologies for the show, Gianni was so hung-over, he could barely walk straight.”

  “That’s where I’ve seen you!” I exclaim, recognizing him. “You did the hip-hop show. It was great!”

  “Aww, don’t flatter him.” Raphael laughs. “His head is already big enough.” He ruffles Luca’s hair affectionately.

  “You know what they say,” Luca smirks. “Big head, big—”

  Raphael gets him in a headlock before he can finish. The two roughhouse playfully, and I leap back to get out of their way. There’s an easy camaraderie between them, and at first I wonder if they’re brothers. But up close, I can see, they look nothing alike. Where Raphael is dark, Luca is all sunny blue eyes and a large Roman nose, shorter than Raphael, his build athletic and stocky against Raphael’s tall, muscular grace.

  As the guys keep wrestling, another girl edges into the small space. “Luca!” she barks impatiently, shoving them aside as she goes to the refrigerator. They break apart, laughing. As Luca speaks in Italian to the girl, I realize it’s Raphael’s partner from the performance: the gorgeous dark-haired girl. Tonight, she looks just as stunning, wearing skintight black jeans and a loose silk blouse, her lips stained with matte plum lipstick and her long hair tousled and sexy.

  Right away, I feel like I’m fifteen years old, playing dress-up at a college party. My denim skirt and plain top seem ugly in comparison, especially now that I’m standing here in my damp camisole, my wet shirt tied around my waist.

  “Hey,” Raphael interrupts Luca and the girl. “Speak English.”

  “Rafa’s made a friend,” Luca tells the girl, grinning.

  The girl doesn’t reply, she just saunters towards me and takes a long sip of wine, her eyes flicking over me from head to toe. She says something in Italian, but I catch one of the words. Bella...

  That means beautiful, doesn’t it? I wonder as she gives me one final look. “We’re all outside,” she tells Raphael, stroking her hand down his arm as she sashays back out.

  It’s a possessive gesture, and I’d get the message even if she didn’t shoot me a final look on her way past. My hopes come crashing down. I was right, they are involved, enough for her to send me that ‘in your dreams’ look, anyway.

  “Forgive my sister,” Luca tells me. “She missed out on common courtesy.”

  Raphael laughs. “You can talk.”

  Luca gasps. “What are you talking about? I’m a true gentleman. Which is why I’m leaving you two alone.” He winks, grabs another hunk of cheese, and backs out of the room with a formal little bow.

  I can’t help laugh, even as my mind races to figure out the relationships here. If Raphael and the girl were together, then Luca wouldn’t be encouraging him to spend time with me, would he?

  “Don’t pay him any attention,” Raphael smiles at me. “Luca is... how do you put it? A trickster.”

  “A joker,” I nod. “He seems fun. Have you been friends long?”

  “Ever since I moved here, about five years ago.” Raphael nods towards the door, so I follow his direction. We stroll slowly back out into the courtyard, around the edge of the party. The music has switched to a wild, pop beat, and the dance floor is packed with moving bodies now, a writhing mass of energy and life.

  Raphael finds us a spot in the shadow of a bougainvillea bush and pulls up two chairs. He settles in one, opening a bottle of beer. He lifts it to his lips, and I have to hold in a sigh: he even drinks with grace, the taut muscles of his arm pressing against his shirt, every movement languid and flowing.

  “You aren’t from Rome?” I ask curiously, perching in the chair beside him.

  Raphael shakes his head. “No, I grew up in Milano, a city in the north of the country. Luca was one of the first people I met here. His family took me in, and together we built the troupe. He’s like a brother to me.”

  “And the girl...?” I ask, trying my best to sound casual.

  “Francesca?” An unreadable expression flits across Raphael’s face. “We’ve been dancing together for years.”

  “She’s very talented,” I say, remembering her performance.

  “Yes,” Raphael looks amused. He glances out into the crowd, where Francesca is dancing, head throw back in abandon, her hips circling with a sexy rhythm that sends a stab of envy right through me. I can turn a dozen perfect fouette spins, but I could never grind like that, with such sensual promise.

  “She’s very good at getting the audience’s attention,” Raphael adds, watching her. “She loves to perform. It’s a wonder anyone looks twice at me,” he adds with a wry laugh.

  “Oh no!” I exclaim, before I can stop myself. “That’s not true. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.” I stop, blushing. “I mean, I thought you were great too. Your lines, and the musicality.”

  Raphael quirks an eyebrow at me. “What do you know about musicality?”

  I pause. “I ... I’m a dancer too,” I admit. “That’s why I’m here. I’m with the American Ballet Company. We’re performing on tour.”

  Raphael’s face changes. A look of recognition slips across his face, bright and intense. “I knew it,” he says softly. “I could tell, just from looking at you. The way you carry yourself...”

  I feel my cheeks burn. “No, it’s nothing. I mean, it’s just ballet. Nothing like what you do.”

  “Don’t say that, don’t put yourself down.” Raphael looks at me. “Your beauty, your grace, it’s all from your dance. I can tell, it’s part of who you are.”

  I blink. Is he serious?
It takes me a moment to realize that he is. Then my stomach flips over, a delicious, slow waltz. I look down, blushing, not sure what to say.

  Raphael laughs. “You’re not used to compliments? Surely you get them all the time.”

  I shrug, awkward. “I don’t know. About my dance, maybe. Not me.”

  “That’s a true shame.” Raphael reaches towards me, and touches my chin with the side of his index finger. The lightest touch, sparking shivers everywhere. “You’re beautiful. You should know it.”

  From any other guy it would sound like a cheesy line, but Raphael has such sincerity in his dark stare, I don’t shy away again.

  I swallow, finding words in my dry throat. “Thank you,” I whisper.

  Suddenly, the music changes, breaking the moment. It’s a familiar beat, one of the songs they used in the street performance this afternoon. The courtyard fills with whoops and cheers, and now everybody is on their feet, filling the space, letting loose.

  Raphael leaps up and holds out his hand to me. “Come on,” he beckons.

  I shake my head fervently. “No, you go on. I can’t dance.”

  He laughs. “You just said, you’re a dancer.”

  “Not like this!” I protest, looking out at the crowd. It’s like a music video out there, people turning out amazing moves, effortless as breathing, and sexy as hell. “I can’t—”

  “You can.” Raphael cuts me off, reaching to grab my hand. “I’ll teach you.”

  My protests are lost under the music as he pulls me into the thick of the crowd. It’s hot and sweaty here, like walking into a sauna, and all around us are moving, pulsing, dancing bodies, faces lit up with abandon, lost to the rhythm. Raphael is a natural, he finds the beat right away, already moving as he leads me out to the center of the courtyard, the beat thumping loud enough to vibrate my chest.

  “Relax,” he yells, swaying to the music. “Just follow my lead.”

  OK, then.

  I try to move, but my body feels awkward and foreign. I try to catch the beat, cringing with every pained, jerky step. Damn. I again wish the ground would swallow me up. Can’t he see I’m no good at this? Ballet is a million miles from this kind of dancing; I’m used to precision, defined moves, carefully choreographed steps polished to perfection, not this, this chaos.

  Somebody moves into my space, knocking into me. I stumble, falling clumsily against Raphael’s chest. My cheeks burn with embarrassment.

  “I’m sorry,” I break away. “I can’t!”

  I turn to flee, but Raphael grabs my hand, pulling me back in, close against his body. “Shh, just close your eyes,” he tells me.

  I stare at him, confused—and reeling from the heat of his torso against mine.

  Raphael grins down at me. “Trust me, just close your eyes.”

  My emotions are whirling in my chest, I just want to get out of this crowd, but something in his playful grin makes me stop. I came here for a reason, for him. I can’t run away just yet.

  I take a deep breath and do as he says. I close my eyes.

  “Now listen to the music. Just feel it.” Raphael’s voice comes, a low, sexy growl against my ear.

  I shiver. In the dark of my mind, my senses are suddenly heightened. I can feel the heat from his body, just inches away, hear the pulse of the music, like a wave rolling into shore.

  “Good, relax, just feel it.”

  His voice is like a balm on my insecurities, lulling me. I focus on the beat, the rhythm of the chords. One two three. One two three...

  Almost without realizing it, my hips begin to move. Just small circles, but I feel it, flowing through me. And then his hands are on my waist, and his body presses closer to mine.

  I freeze for a moment, shocked at the contact. I’m used to dancing with a partner, but this feels so different. Unscripted and free. I have no idea what he’s going to do next – and that thrills me. Raphael keeps dancing, and slowly, I find myself matching his rhythm, moving with his body.

  Oh...

  The sensation is overwhelming. The heat of him, the feel of his taut, solid torso pressing against me, the scent of him, deep and musky. With my eyes closed, there’s nothing to distract me, no way to block it out or focus away. Just us: me, him, and the music, nothing else in the world.

  “See? I knew you could do it.”

  Raphael’s hands reach further on my hips, drawing me into him. Our bodies slide together, and the touch is so intimate, I find it hard to breathe. To even think. My heart is racing, every nerve and muscle sparking with electricity. My body tightens with lust, tension curling deep between my thighs. I’ve danced with a partner before, of course, hundreds of times, but this is different. A sensual rhythm, like we’re bound together by the beat, moving as one.

  This is what sex would be like, I realize in shock. Moving with someone, feeling their body so closely; a sweaty, delicious slide…

  I want to stay locked in this dark, breathless state forever, but I want to see Raphael more. I force myself to open my eyes. And there he is: staring down at me, his face inches from mine.

  I catch my breath, dizzy. His eyes blaze ravenously under the lanterns, echoing everything his body is saying. He’s so beautiful up close, so powerful: a dark angel in the night, awakening feelings I’ve never even dreamed about.

  I want him. I want all of him.

  As if reading my mind, Raphael moves one hand up my back; a slow caress, hot against my skin. My eyes don’t leave his, but I shiver under his touch, feeling the heat, the purpose behind his touch as his fingers trace up my spine to the back of my neck, curling to tangle in my hair.

  We’re moving slower now, swaying to the beat in a sensual dance. There’s no space left between us, our bodies pressed together, sweaty and breathless and feeling so damn right, it’s like I was made to be here, fitted to him, chest to chest, hip to hip.

  Raphael leans closer, closer, and I catch my breath, lost in the rhythm of our bodies, the intensity of his dark eyes, drawing me into him, so natural, it’s the easiest thing in the world when he closes those last, precious inches between us, and finds my lips with his.

  The kiss blazes through me like wildfire.

  It’s overwhelming, a flood of sensation like I’ve never known before, setting every nerve ablaze. My brain shuts off, short-circuited by the rush of pleasure, and all my hesitance is forgotten.

  You were made for this.

  I instinctively reach up, pulling his head down to me, hungry for more. Raphael groans against my mouth, and then he’s kissing me deeper, his lips hot and demanding, his tongue probing, tasting me, sliding against mine in a sweet rush of friction that makes me shudder, swaying against him. Raphael grips me tightly, holding me up with his strong arms, and I melt into him, eager for more.

  God, this kiss is heaven, a dark temptation that blots everything from my mind until all that exists in my world is him, Raphael, his lips driving me mindless, his body promising so much more.

  How did I live before this feeling? How will I ever stop, knowing what I do now?

  At last, he breaks away. My body screams out in protest, but before I can make a sound, Raphael takes my hand, and leads me out of the crowd.

  Nine.

  Raphael

  I drag her from the dance-floor, possessed by a singular need.

  I want her. I have to have her.

  Now.

  From the moment I first laid eyes on her, watching me dance in that square, I felt a desire like nothing else. A connection beyond words, beyond logic. Now, knowing the soft sway of her body against mine, the silken touch of her skin…

  I won’t stop until I’m buried deep inside her, feeling every clench and moan of her delicious pussy; her sweet lips parted in a scream of pleasure.

  Mine.

  Annalise stumbles after me. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes glazed. I can see her nipples pebbling through the thin silk of her camisole, and it sends a surge of blood straight to my rock-hard cock. I want to suck those eager pe
aks until she’s begging for me; part her thighs and sink my tongue into her sweetness, lick her until she loses her mind.

  “Where are we going?” she asks, sounding breathless.

  “Somewhere private,” I answer. But the party is raging. There are people everywhere, and I know, inside, there won’t be an empty room to be found.

  I pull her gently around the side of the building. Here, the music is quieter, and the shadows offer a private place to hide.

  I slowly push her up against a wall.

  Annalise’s eyes flare. She looks at me, and bites the edge of her lip in hesitation.

  Fuck. I can already see those perfect lips wrapped around my cock, sliding faster, swallowing me whole.

  I bring my thumb to the edge of her mouth, gently tracing back and forth.

  She inhales in a shudder.

  “Wait,” she whispers. “I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  She flushes even redder, but if she expected her inexperience to make me pause, she’s wrong. It sends another bolt of desire crashing through me.

  An innocent. Pure. Ready.

  “So let me teach you,” I murmur, easing her lips open. “I’ll show you a pleasure like you’ve never known.”

  I push my finger into her mouth, and watch her pupils dilate. She licks gently, and I groan. Fuck, she’s so hot. Emboldened, she closes her lips around my finger and sucks.

  I break, abandoning any attempt at self-control.

  With a growl, I pull my hand away and claim those tempting lips with my mouth. I kiss her hard, demanding, surging my tongue deeper in her mouth and crushing her against the wall.

  She sways against me. I grip her body tighter, roving over every inch of her tight little body. Her dancer’s waist, the slim curves of her ass, the sweet, ripe buds of her nipples…

  Annalise pulls away with a gasp. I stroke over her breasts again, and feel her body shudder. I watch her face, see the struggle between desire and self-control.

  “You like that, don’t you?” I murmur, teasing her nipples between my thumb and forefinger until she whimpers. “Has anyone touched you like this before, my sweet? Has anyone made you moan?”