I tried to chuckle with her but couldn’t really pull it off. Dread ricocheted down each rib to land heavily in my gut. He would most certainly not be happy when he found out this white girl could not dance. At least I was safe in the knowledge that there were no take-backs. He paid the fee regardless of whether or not I could dance. That was not part of my portfolio, and I’d never claimed it to be.
The elevator opened to a hallway where glass walls spanned the entire length from wall to wall. The regular lights were off in the room, black lights were flickering, and spotlights shone down on several figures, bodies writhing to the obscenely loud beat. A man in jogging shorts and a t-shirt clapped out beats and called numbers to the dancers in what I thought were placements for their feet or hands, but I couldn’t be sure.
Heather brought me in to stand to the side. That’s when I got my first good look at Anton Santiago. Taking in his sleek, muscled form, my mouth went dry; the room around me seemed to throb like a heartbeat as he slowly walked forward. Each beat of the music accentuated the movement of his shoulders, one in front of the other, and twisted his hips along to each hit. His body was covered in slick sweat, from the protruding collar bone, over square pecks and down the highway that was one helluva toned abdomen. Not only was he cut, his body just screamed, “Hold me, touch me, put your naked form all over me.”
He spun around, the back-up dancers mimicking the move, and then he hit the floor…with his body. He did a series of pushups to the beat, then one-handed, the muscles in his forearms bulging delectably. He did another but with an added roll of his hips as if he was humping the ground. Sweet mother…I wanted to shimmy over there and lay down so he could practice that move on a living, breathing, hot-blooded woman. And I was hot. So fucking hot. I fanned myself as I watched his body twist, turn, and catapult into the air onto his feet where he repeated the hip rolling pelvic thrust to the sexiest lyrics.
“Ride it baby, ride… **body roll**
“With me, I’ll go all night…” **thrust**
“Let me do you right…” **body roll**
“And ride it baby, ride…” **thrust**
His large hand cupped his package, tugging up while his body arched into the air. He looked like a golden-brown god who’d just finished pounding his dream girl and was checking the status of his weapon before going back into a sex-driven battle.
The music came to an abrupt halt. “Okay guys, that’s enough for the day. Anton, we good,” the guy in shorts called out.
Anton didn’t say a word, just offered one cool as a cucumber chin lift. A gaggle of girls clamored up to him with water and a towel. “Oh Anton, you were amazing. So sexy.”
He stopped a few feet in front of me, eyes never leaving mine. Green to green. His blazing, mine turned way the fuck on. “Leave me.”
“But, I thought after rehearsal we were going to have fun?” The two girls clamored for his attention.
His brows furrowed. “Anton don’t do repeats. Vete al carajo,” he said and with a sweep of his hand shooed them away. By the grimace and sadness on their faces, whatever he said could not have been good. Later I found out it meant “fuck off”.
“Lucita,” he licked his lips in the way a man does that literally makes your spine tingle and your core clench. Yes, he made my * clench with a single lip lick. “Now that you’re here, whatever shall we do with you?” His Puerto Rican accent did crazy things to my senses as his eyes scanned me from head to toe again. He may as well have reached out a hand and trailed it all along my skin for how much I felt that look.
Those green orbs glazed over with what could only be seen as pure, carnal lust. We stood there, eyes locked on one another as we had a visual silent war with one another. Nostrils flared, eyes squinted, and finally I spoke.
“You could feed me. I’m starved,” I said. Heather, standing a lot closer than I thought, snorted with laughter, breaking the tension between me and the Latin Lov-ah. Now, seeing him in front of me, it made all kinds of sense where he got that name.
His head cut to hers. “Sorry, Anton,” she said and looked away, failing to hide the smile on her face.
Anton held his hand out to me. “Mia, let’s fill you up.” The way he said those words literally made me think of a hundred other completely inappropriate things besides food. I licked my lips and smacked my chops.
“Yes, let’s.”
Chapter 2
Anton led the three of us to the elevator and up to the penthouse, his private residence. The moment the doors opened Anton walked through them leaving the two of us behind. “You know what to do, H.” He hollered over his shoulder, not even sparing a glance in his wake.