The-Spanish-Love-Deception-www.indianpdf

something simmered and flared in his gaze. That blue blaze wiped clean the
surprise, replacing it with something that looked a lot like hunger.
Everybody else around us was dancing to a beat that my hazy mind
seemed to remember from something. It was Latin; it was decadent and fun
and what summer nights in Spain were usually made of. Without really
knowing how, my hips started moving. Aaron’s hands shifted to my waist.
And we were dancing. The memory of doing that with him not so long ago
blindsided me for an instant. How ironic it was that we’d found ourselves in
the same situation so soon after and that we seemed like completely different
people.
It didn’t make sense.
But I didn’t care. Not tonight.
My fingers played with the short strands of hair in Aaron’s nape as our
hips swayed to the Latin beat. So soft—his hair was so very soft. Just how I
had imagined. I pulled a little on the strands, not knowing why. In answer,
Aaron’s fingers tightened on my waist, causing my blood to swirl and heat,
gathering in all kinds of interesting places.
Without being able to stop myself, I went up on my tiptoes again, not
needing an excuse to examine his face closer. He wasn’t frowning or smiling,
but there was something about his features that made him look different.
Unbound. Yes, that was it. There wasn’t a trace at all of that restraint I was so
used to seeing in him. And to me, that made him look as handsome as he had
ever looked.
Maybe I should tell him.
My lips parted with the words, and I watched his gaze dip to them. The
look in his eyes released a flock of butterflies low in my belly.
“Aaron,” I said, but I was distracted by the way he was looking at me. I
didn’t think I was dancing anymore. What was I going to say?
“Do you trust me, Catalina?” he asked me.
Yes. The answer flashed across my mind, but I didn’t voice it. There was
something that had intercepted the three-letter word. Something I was
vaguely aware I needed to remember.
Aaron’s fingers spread, and his thumbs trailed across the fabric of my
blouse. One of them slipped beneath the hem. The simple contact sent a wave
of pure awareness across my skin.
“You don’t, not yet,” he said against my ear, and then his lips hovered
above my cheek, causing my breath to hitch. “But you will trust me; I’ll