Island Affair (Keys to Love #1) - Priscilla Oliveras Page 0,50

Miami.” Though she rarely lingered out late into the night, even for influencer events.

“I don’t want you to overdo it.”

Sara’s heart sank with unease at his concern. This was exactly why she had avoided mentioning her OSFED. All day he’d seen her as an average girl, not someone who needed to be treated with kid gloves. If he knew, he’d wind up behaving like the others. Analyzing her food intake. Noting her trips to the bathroom or her amount of exercise. Peppering her with questions.

She wanted him to be interested in her, Sara. Not the patient with the eating disorder or the sought-after social media influencer. Just plain Sara.

“Actually, I’ve been standing here considering the idea of getting a tattoo across my forehead that says: ‘I’m fine.’ What do you think?”

Her belly flip-flopped at the sexy grin hitching up a corner of his mouth.

“Where? Right here?” He traced a faint line across the center of her forehead with his fingertip.

Sara held her breath. Savoring the tingles of awareness his light touch evoked.

“I guess it might be a good conversation starter at all your cocktail parties.”

He winked and she found herself free-falling through the air like a novice base jumper. Anxiously flailing for the ripcord to release her parachute before she hit the brick walkway with a splat.

“Whatever has this little worry line marring your beautiful face”—Luis gently rubbed the space between her brows with his thumb pad, and her eyelids fluttered, longing coursing through her—“I’ve been told I’m a good listener. If you want to talk about it.”

Part of her wanted to be up-front, confide in him her fears of inadequacy.

But she wasn’t ready for him to look at her differently. As crazy as it might sound considering she’d known Luis for such a short time, she’d truly come to value their relationship. She didn’t want him to see her as less than. Not like her own family did.

“One more before we take another short set break,” the lead singer announced over the microphone. “An oldie but goodie whether sung in English or Spanish.”

The opening notes of “Unchained Melody” strummed from the guitar, a swoony bachata rhythm infusing the classic love song.

Sara pushed off the pillar, its rough wood scraping her shoulder blade. “Oh, I love this one.”

“That’s my cue.”

Luis held out his hand, palm up. Sara laid her fingers over his, electricity charging through her when he tugged her gently into his open arms. She landed flush against his hard body, one of his muscular legs wedged between hers. His left hand cradled her right one over his heart. His right palm on the small of her back held her in place, its soft pressure nudging her to follow his lead. She went willingly.

This time he barely moved his feet in the one-two-three-four count. Instead, his hips cajoled hers into joining him for a sexier, sultrier version of the dance. He looped their clasped hands around his waist, pressing them to his lower back where his T-shirt tucked into his jeans before releasing hers to wrap his arm around her in an intimate embrace.

His left hand splayed in the center of her back, firm, insistent, as he spun them in a tight circle. She pressed her cheek to his shoulder, lost in the swirl of light and dark as they twirled. Closing her eyes, she breathed in his musky scent, marveling at the muscles rippling across his back as she clung to him. He bent his knees, lowering her with him to the beat. She rode his thigh, lust and desire bubbling to a boil inside her.

Her hips moved in tandem with his, wantonly mimicking the moves her body craved. Secretly seeking his touch in her most intimate of places.

They dipped, swayed, spun as one. Sara trusting him to lead, allowing herself to let go and simply feel the rhythm. The sensual beat. Him.

All too soon the love song drew to an end. Around them patrons clapped their praise for the band, but Sara wasn’t ready to let Luis go.

His arms tightened around her. Ducking his head, he nuzzled her cheek with his nose. Pressed a warm kiss on her temple, the scruff of his jaw scratching her sensitive skin. Tendrils of desire curled through her. Sara fisted his shirt in her hands, her knees buckling under the onslaught of lust he ignited.

“You are so damn sexy.” His gruff whisper had her body quivering with need.

Heart racing, her brain screamed for her to back away. She was playing with