Page 102 of Liar

I move the coffee table off to the side for better access to him. Then, positioning myself in front of him, I begin to sway my hips and move my arms. Warming up.

I imagined dancing the flamenco like this. For a man I love, who is unabashedly devouring me with his eyes. It’s a dance that oozes sex and invites a lover in. His eyes darken as I stride forward.You likecalienté, Hayden? Then prepare to get scorched.

This isn’t going to be just any dance.

This is going to be a seduction.

With slow, controlled movements, I tap my toe down hard then my heel, gracefully alternating arms overhead. Then, the dance takes over. A sharp turn of the body, a tap of a toe, my foot settling onto the floor seconds before I arch my back and bring my arms around in a wide, fluid circle.

I lock eyes on him as I sway my hips. Every angle of my body designed to tease. Every tap to torment.

“Cazzo.”

“Clap your hands.”

He sits up then claps out a controlled rhythm.

If he liked this red dress before, he’s going to love it now.

I grasp hold of the hem and slide it higher up my thighs as I repeat the same series of steps, hips engaged and arms circling up and around.

“Faster.”

I dance toward him, his admiration, the raw need in his eyes fueling my movements. I arch my spine in an offering of myself to him.

That’s when the clapping stops.

He’s on his feet. I’m in his arms. Then I’m flat on my back on the sofa beneath him.

He kisses me like a man possessed.

I kiss him back like a woman desperate to be possessed.

His body presses into mine, and I feel his hardness rocking against me. It feels like everything he is, powerful, virile, sexy beyond belief. He rubs against the most sensitive part of me, and I’m alive with wonder. I spread my thighs, my desire for more of him all-consuming.

A faint, persistent buzzing interrupts us. His kiss slows as his body tenses.

No. Not after things were going so well.

Hayden lifts off me then offers me his hand. I’m pulled up to sit, my skirt falling back into place. He checks his phone, and that cold, unreadable mask of his falls into place.

“It’s Diego.”

“Don’t answer it.”

The phone stops but within seconds rings again.

He glares down at it. “Fuck. We need to talk.”

“We need to fuck, not talk.”

“Luciana.”

“I want a wedding night. I want this marriage. I want you.”

“It’s a marriage in name only. When the time is right, you can get an annulment.”

“In name only?”