Last Fall

by Alexis Anne

  I’d forgotten that Marie mostly raised Natalie on her own. Greg was such a part of her that I had trouble imagining the two of them separately. “When did your father die?”

  “I was sixteen.”

  That was a tough age to lose a parent. “I’m sorry.”

  “I appreciate that. Shall we?”

  He was out the door in a flash, leaving me more than a little surprised.

  The man who wanted all the details of my past didn’t want to talk about his own. To be fair it wasn’t the same thing. Losing a parent was painful but it wasn’t stopping him from living his life.

  While my issues . . .

  My car door opened. As I stared at his hand I made a deal with myself. For the rest of the night, the past didn’t exist. Not his and not mine. I was going to live in the moment, trust that my instincts about Erik were correct, and make the most of this.

  I took his hand feeling a lot more like myself than I had in weeks. I was a woman going dancing with a gorgeous man. It put a bounce in my step that Erik quickly matched.

  The club was a quick three-minute walk. The street was alive with people out for a good time. This section of Tampa had once been home to the Cuban cigar factories but was now known for its shopping and nightlife, the buildings a mix of historic and new.

  The bouncer checked our IDs. Inside was packed. The DJ was housed slightly above the crowd on the far wall. A bar ran around the back right corner. Tables had been shoved to the sides to make as much room as possible for dancing.

  “Do you dance?” I probably should have asked that first but I had a feeling he wouldn’t have agreed so readily if he didn’t.

  “Do I dance?” he scoffed, puffing his chest up a little, then spinning me into his arms as we fell perfectly into sync with the other dancers. “My mama is Cuban.”

  So of course he danced. It was impossible to live in Tampa without learning things like this. Where I was from some men line danced or two-stepped, but many didn’t want to be caught dead doing something as girly as dancing.

  But not here. Music, dance, art, food, it was all infused into the mix of Hispanic cultures that blended into the community of Tampa Bay.

  It was one of the things I’d fallen so in love with since moving here.

  With Erik’s heavy gaze on me as his body moved with mine, with his arms holding me so confidently, I had to wonder if I was falling in love with a whole lot more.

  16

  ERIK

  I’ll Never Let You Fall

  Hot, sweaty, anonymous. Dancing with Zoe was a very good and a very bad idea. Girl had moves. And even though she seemed to be a little off because of me, she kept slipping into this zone where the music took over.

  It was hot.

  Hot because it was her. Just her. Not the past, not her anxiety about me, not even the stress she kept on her shoulders about her work. This wild woman dropping to the bass line, rolling her hips, and throwing her head back, was the real Zoe Burke.

  With her sweet little body pressed hard against mine, it made it difficult to hide how much I liked it. She didn’t seem to notice so I didn’t focus on it. Instead I did my best to show off what my mama gave me. Music and dance were an integral part of my upbringing. Everyone danced. Music always played on the radio or in person. I often caught Mom and Dad dancing after they put us to bed. The Cassidys danced when they were happy. We danced when we were sad. We danced when we were lonely or to celebrate.

  It wasn’t about knowing the steps or being the best. It was about getting lost in the music—just like Zoe was doing in my arms right now. Her dark hair was sweaty. Pasted against her neck. Her jacket from the hockey game had been left behind in the car, leaving her to dance in her t-shirt and jeans.

  I loved all of it.

  The DJ came over the speakers with a horn. “What’s up Ybor?” The crowd cheered, turning his way. Zoe spun so I grabbed onto her hips and pulled her against me. With a roll of her shoulders she melded into me like she belonged there. “I’ve gotten a million requests for this tonight. I know you want to hear it. So now is the one and only time I’m gonna play it you, you hear?” The crowd grew quiet and you could cut the anticipation with a knife. “And we don’t play that English shit down here. Ya’ll know your Spanish.”

  Then the first guitar picks of “Despacito” filled the air and you would have thought an actual rock star had walked on the dance floor. People lost their damn minds screaming and running to find a place. A partner.

  I dropped a kiss onto Zoe’s shoulder as I placed my hand across her belly, swaying my hips to the first words, ready to spin her back and make the very most of the sexiest song of the year with the sexiest woman I knew.

  Her skin tasted salty. I liked that.

  I could have sworn she whispered my name but it was hard to tell between the music and the writhing bodies. Didn’t matter. In my head that’s how it happened. The music pulsed, I kissed her, and she whispered my name.

  Sounded damn fine to me.

  I gave her hips a nudge and she whipped around in time for us to make the three note drop to the title of the song and then all hell broke loose as Tampa’s finest danced their asses off.

  Zoe looked different under the club lights. Red and yellow danced over her skin. Her eyes flashed up at me. Hungry. Uninhibited. I held her close and whispered the words in her ear, pronouncing the Spanish in the sexiest way I knew how.

  The lyrics couldn’t be more perfect.

  Slowly.

  That was Zoe and me. There was no rush. Every step of falling for her had been slow. Intimate.

  This would only happen once and I was going to savor the process. Memorize every detail. Appreciate the miracle of a woman revealing herself to me.

  She danced a few steps back, her shoulders swiveling in time with her hips, a smile curving her lips. I yanked her back to me for the chorus. The force of our bodies slamming together felt damn good and she threw her head back to laugh. My hand cupped her ass and down we went with the music.

  The crowd yelled “Puerto Rico,” and then the entire club moved as one. Zoe threw her hands in the air. Her hair fell into her face as she laughed and moved. She turned and backed into me, as clear an invitation as I needed to latch onto her hips and finish the song the way it was intended. Hot, sweaty, and sexy as hell.

  I’d never had so much fun.

  “Water!” She yelled when the song ended. I grabbed her hand, making sure to lace my fingers between hers before pushing my way through the crowd to get what she wanted. “Oh my it’s so hot in here!” She latched onto my belt loop with her other hand.

  Whether it was my size, the look on my face, or the gorgeous woman who tucked herself under my arm while we waited, the barkeep quickly slid two bottles our way.

  “Thanks man.”

  He held up his paw indicating I owed him five dollars. Zoe fished my wallet out of my pocket without my asking, biting her lip as she held it up for me. I liked this feisty little firecracker that took me dancing. I hoped to see more of this side of her now that we’d broken down some walls.

  “Oh I’m paying?”

  She shrugged. “I drove.”

  I kissed her neck, just barely holding in the growl I wanted to let loose. This. More of this. “I guess the water is on me then. Let’s get out of here.” Apparently the entire club was thirsty and pressing in on us.

  We were just about to find a nice dark corner to make out in when a hand touched my bicep. I froze, as most people tend to do when they’re touched by someone unexpected.

  A blonde I didn’t know smiled up at me. “Oh my god, are you Erik Cassidy?”

  Zoe snorted, wrapping her arms around my waist as she snuggled against me. Oh hell yeah. I slid my arm around her and thanked whatever God of Jealousy sent this fan my way.

  “I am.”

  “I’ve never met an athlete out in public before!” she gushed.

  “Believe it or not we lead regular lives sometimes. For instance, I’m on
a date right now.”

  Her eyes barely registered Zoe at my side. “You dance?”

  “With my girl? Anytime she wants.”

  “Can we dance now, Baby?” Zoe cooed.

  I about died.

  “Of course, Darlin’. It was nice to meet you . . . ”

  “Meg.”

  I nodded once. “Have a fun night.” Then I swept my girl over to a table that happened to have a nice tall chair open. I slipped between her legs.

  “Your girl, huh?” she asked between kisses.

  “I didn’t want to scare you off with the entire word.”

  “Mmm . . . ”

  “I liked the way you wrapped yourself around me.”

  She broke the kiss to repeat the move, looking up at me. “This one.”

  “Hell yeah. This is where you belong, Zoe.”

  “With you?”

  I nodded slowly knowing how easy it would be to say the wrong thing right now. “The same way I belong with you.” I very carefully put my arms around her and squeezed. “We fit just right.”

  She seemed to like that. “You would have said the whole word if I wasn’t so skittish?”

  “So fast it would have made your head spin.”

  “Isn’t it too fast? We haven’t even been on a date yet.” She glanced around. “Although I guess this is kind of an impromptu first date.”

  Best kind if you ask me. “This isn’t too fast, Zo. This has been two years in the making. So no, calling you my girlfriend on our first date is not too fast in my book. Everything we do is slow and careful. I think it’s perfect that our first date has been as unplanned and amazing as our first kiss.” She blushed crimson at that. I kissed her forehead. “Where’d you learn to dance like that?”

  She did this cute little half-shrug thing she usually did when she talked about herself. “My mom put me in dance the day I took my first step. Or close to anyway.”

  I brushed hair off her forehead, wove my fingers into the thickness and pulled it away from her neck.

  “That’s nice. Thank you.”

  What she didn’t seem to understand was that I couldn’t stop touching her—never wanted to stop—her hair was simply a non-threatening way to keep this connection going.

  She smiled up at me. “It was probably eighth grade, maybe ninth, and I was sick to death of tap, jazz, ballet. I wanted more. So I threatened to quit dance unless she agreed to let me pick one class every year. That meant she still got recitals and competitions, while I got to learn rumba, samba, and eventually salsa. I really fell hard for the Latin street dances.”

  And. It. Showed. She didn’t quite move like she was born into it, but damn was she close. “I didn’t realize you were a dancer. It makes sense now.”

  “What makes sense?”

  “How you knew the club schedule off the top of your head.”

  Her eyes danced like she didn’t have a care in the world. It was fucking gorgeous. “I go to yoga with June. I happily grab a kayak and wander around the island. I even go for a jog a couple times a week, but traditional working out bores me to death.” She shook her head as she looked out at the dance floor. “But I can spend two hours here dancing and not even notice the time that’s passed.”

  “I will happily join you for this kind of workout any time.”

  “You’re a pretty good partner.”

  The blood rushed south again at the way she raked her gaze up my body as she spoke. I swallowed down the urge to say I was a good partner in bed too. “I didn’t take any classes so I’m glad to hear that.”

  “You don’t need classes if you grow up with dance in your family. That’s actually one of the best pieces of advice I ever got. It kind of changed my life.”

  I didn’t quite follow her train of thought. “The best advice you ever got was to be born into a family that danced?”

  “No,” she laughed, never taking her eyes off me. “That street dancing isn’t technical. It’s not about perfect technique. It’s about embodying the music in physical form. When you grow up with that kind of dancing around you it’s second nature. You don’t think about what you’re doing, you just do it. And all I did was think. And think. And think.”

  Ah, now I understood where she was coming from. And I so got it. Zoe was always up inside that head of hers. I had a feeling it was a good thing most of the time. At least for her readers. “You definitely weren’t overthinking anything out there.”

  “You made it easy to let go.”

  Fuck. I couldn’t breathe when she said things like that, all soft and intentional, while staring at me. Somehow my hands wound up back in her hair. “You’re beautiful when you let go.”

  “Letting go is scary. Sometimes you fall right on your face. But sometimes,” she blinked away. “I’ve had my greatest successes and my greatest failures from the exact same thing.”

  I ducked down because I absolutely hated not having her eyes on me. I found those green eyes and I didn’t move. “I’ll never let you fall.”

  It could have been seconds or it could have been hours we stayed like that. It wasn’t a line. I wasn’t saying it to get a response. It was how I felt and how I knew I’d react.

  Finally she took a breath. “I need another dance.”

  “Finish your water,” I said, reaching past her for the last sip of my bottle.

  “Bossy,” she mumbled, but finished anyway.

  “I didn’t mean to be bossy.” I pulled her up out of the chair and back into my arms. “I meant to be helpful. Caring. You know? Nice?”

  She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, lost in the music. “You are nice. And caring. And I’m gun shy.”

  About being bossed around. Told what to do. The fucker.

  She opened her eyes and threw her arms around my neck. “You’re not like him. At all.”

  “What?” We were so close our noses brushed. I could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

  “I said I was gun shy and you put a vice grip on my hips and your eyes got all sad and angry, so I wanted you to know I wasn’t comparing you to him. I was simply explaining why I react strangely to certain things.”

  I put my arms around her and just barely stopped myself from crushing her hard against my chest. If she thought she reacted strangely to certain things maybe she’d understand my weird reactions. “When you say things like that, it makes me want to keep you right here.”

  “Keep me?” her voice wavered.

  “No. Hold you. Make you feel safe. Beat the fucking shit out of anyone who ever makes you hurt again.”

  We weren’t dancing anymore.

  “That’s the thing . . . I do feel safe with you.” She took a shaky breath as she searched my eyes. “It’s a very strange feeling and I don’t know what to do with it.”

  “You don’t have to do anything with it.” Yes, I wanted her to let go and be with me already. And yes, I wanted to run back to her car and take her home with me. And hell yes, I wanted to spend the night with her. But all those things were going to happen at some point. I knew that now. “You don’t have to do anything, Zoe.”

  The hair on the back of my neck rose up and I got the strangest feeling someone was staring at me.

  I ignored it.

  “It doesn’t feel that way,” she whispered, glancing to her right.

  Was she getting the same weird signals? I followed her gaze but didn’t see anyone obvious. At first.

  Zoe froze. “That blonde is watching us,” she whispered.

  That’s when I saw her. The woman who stopped me. “What was her name?”

  “Meg.”

  Yep. Her. From all the way across the room. She was sitting at a table like the one we’d just been at. And all she was doing was staring at us.

  It was really creepy.

  “Maybe that’s where the urgency is coming from,” Zoe chuckled, smiling back up at me. I really liked her arms around my neck like this. “I have to quick figure out how I feel about you so we can escape a stalk
er.”

  Fuck. Hopefully Meg was just a drunk fan and not a stalker. “You’re getting a strong vibe from her, aren’t you?” People didn’t pull out the word stalker for no reason. And that put my guard up even higher than it already was.

  “I’m tired, turned on, confused, and now watched. I don’t know what I’m feeling anymore.”

  My brain latched right onto the one word I liked hearing most and threw the rest away.

  Zoe was turned on.

  And that made me a very happy man. “Oh yeah? Is it just dancing that excites you, or was it maybe me?”

  She rolled her eyes. “As if me drooling all over you tonight wasn’t enough, you have a fan who can’t take her eyes off you.”

  Drooling? I just . . . wow. I kissed her, grabbing the loops on her jeans to tug her closer. Soft. Warm. She kissed me back with the best little whimper.

  “Take me home, Erik,” she murmured between kisses. “Take me home, now.”

  17

  Zoe

  Lust-Deaf

  He didn’t need to touch me anywhere. Just being close to him overloaded my senses. Short-circuited my nerve endings. I felt like a computer that had been zapped by too much electricity. Surely there was smoke coming out of my ears and sparks flying off my fingertips.

  But he touched me anyway. Kissed my cheek. Hot. Ran his rough hands down my waist. Gripped my hips and pulled me against him. Zing.

  I wanted this. I so wanted this. I wouldn’t have essentially commanded him to take me home if it wasn’t exactly what I wanted.

  But there was something he needed to know.

  “Erik, I . . . I,” couldn’t think straight or form words. What was I trying to say?

  “Yes?” He kissed my lips at the same time his fingers ran over the bare skin at my waist and boom I suddenly remembered everything.

  “I haven’t done this in a long time.”

  “I know,” he mumbled somewhere between my collarbone and my breasts.

  “A really long time.” I kind of shouted that. It wasn’t the smoothest I’d ever been but things were getting critical fast. I wanted this, god how I wanted this, but I needed Erik to understand first.