“Squeeze.”
He shook his head and tried to pull his hands away. “I can’t. It’s rude.”
She tightened her grip on his wrists and barely suppressed a giggle. “Not if I tell you it’s okay. Are you uncomfortable touching me?”
She knew he wasn’t, not after the way he’d held her at Club Picante—something she hadn’t been able to forget, no matter how hard she tried. She just needed him to bring some of that passion to this tango.
His eyes flicked to hers, then to the cameras. “It’s not that…”
“Then what’s the problem?”
The look he gave her was stern and intense. “Is this really necessary?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Exasperation seeped into her voice. “Because I want you to know I’m fine with it. That you don’t need to be so precious with me.”
He spoke low, with that delicious little growl that set her pulse racing. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. But Stone, if you’re scared to touch me, you’re going to look hesitant in the dance. If you look hesitant, it will look like I’m leading. And if I’m leading, our tango will suck.” Her voice rose with each point, until she was practically yelling. “Do you want our tango to suck?”
“Of course not.”
“Then grab my ass!”
She could see in his eyes the second he decided to go with it. His big hands trembled, then clenched, his long fingers clamping around her ass cheeks and palming them perfectly.
Gina sucked in a breath. Heat flooded through her, and all her attention centered on the warmth of his palms and the strength of his fingers digging lightly into her flesh.
Oh god. This was a mistake. A giant fucking mistake. What the hell had she been thinking?
“Happy?” he snapped.
“Yes.” Her voice was thick, and it pissed her off. She cleared her throat. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way…”
She eased back, setting them up so they were in proper hold. “Let’s try this again. From the top.”
Two days later, they’d received their music and Stone had nailed the choreography, but they had a new problem.
He wouldn’t look her in the eye.
When they danced, he grabbed her and twirled her with such delicious force that Gina was starting to dream about his touch at night. His posture was next to perfect. Their lifts were phenomenal, and he hadn’t dropped her once. His footwork was coming along, aside from a slight tendency to bend his knees at an odd angle. But he was working on it, and she was confident he’d have it fixed by showtime. He’d made incredible progress in just a matter of days.
But while he did everything she told him, tightening his holdand whipping her body around in spins and lifts, he wouldn’t look at her while he did any of it.
It was better to let intimacy with a dance partner build organically, but they were running out of time. Gina had to call him out.
After their lunch break—he was always a bit more amenable after he’d consumed what looked like an entire chicken—she sat next to him at the edge of the small stage stretching across one end of their practice room.
Jordy closed in on them with the camera, as if sensing she was about to give them a show. All of this would be so much easier without the crew around. Even worse, Donna was with them today.
“Stone.” Gina put her hand on his knee and gave it a squeeze. “Why won’t you look at me?”
He cut his eyes to her, but he didn’t seem surprised by her question.
“I look at you.”
