Latin Rhythm by Tess MacKall
erotic multicultural older woman/younger man contemporary romance
length: novella (approx 35K words)
Cover Art by Winterheart Design
Beware of margarita-induced chitchat, or you may find yourself in search of a hot Latin hunk—which is exactly what happened to Laura Kincaid. Divorced, with grown children, she can’t quite picture herself dancing the salsa in Miami’s trendiest nightclub. But the moment she spots club owner, Marco Valazquez, the heat is on!
Literally swept off her feet by his sexy Latin accent and stunning good looks, Laura loses herself in the arms of the younger man.
Marco understands the pain of betrayal and wants nothing more than to teach Laura to trust again. And to love. She’s everything he’s ever dreamed of in a woman. There’s just one problem: Laura isn’t comfortable with their age difference, and that, along with a misunderstanding, tears them apart.
He arched his back, and their bodies rose until her feet touched the ground, but he continued to hold her arms, his sinewy thigh resting on her sex, keeping her pressed to him. His mouth so close, his breath warm and moist on her face, to taste his lips would be heaven. And his voice—talk about melt in your mouth. That seductive Latin accent whispered all the way through her right down to her toes. A square jaw, dark stubble on his cheeks, every single inch of the man screamed sex!
“Tell me…you are not injured, sí?”
He expected her to speak? “No. Yes. I mean no, I’m not injured.”
Tossing his head back, he laughed. A deep, musical sound—genuine, carefree. Beautiful white teeth gleamed in the scant neon light coming from the club. Laura continued staring, unable to do anything else.
Lips curved into a breathtaking smile, he contemplated her again. His voice rumbled from his chest. “So, tonight we dance. Sí?”
What? He may have forgotten they were still molded together, but she hadn’t. Every breath she took forced her breasts to heave against his almost bare chest. The clingy fabric encasing her body offered little in the way of protection—protection from the heat radiating from him.
“Um…are you asking me to dance?” Oh, God, how she hoped she didn’t sound too squeaky.
His hands bracketed her face, and with his thumbs, he stroked her cheeks. “Sí. You and I. We shall dance this night. Come, cariño.”
Lifting both her hands to his mouth, he kissed her open palms, then draped his arm across her shoulder and steered her to the entrance.
Laura’s hands tingled from the kisses, and she wondered what his lips would taste like. A soft, expanding pleasure-pain rolled inside her lower abdomen and spread through her hips. The crowd crushed at the entrance parted to make room for them and called out his name.
“Marco! So good to see you!”
And another voice. “Good to have you back, Marco!”
“Are you famous?” Laura felt stupid asking. After all, if he was famous, shouldn’t she know?
He chuckled softly. “No. I own Sizzle. I have been out of town for some time now, opening two other clubs on the West Coast.” He shook hands with a few people and kept smiling.
Laura’s momentary lapse of common sense gave way to reason, tamping down on the physical sensations brewing within her. What the hell was she thinking by going off with a stranger who had literally swept her off her feet even if he did own the club? Not that she knew he owned the club before she consented to take off with him—which made her good judgment even more suspect. Besides, he had to be ten years younger.
“So, your name is Marco?” she asked.
“Sí. And you are?”
“Um…Laura. Look, I’m here with friends. I’m sure they’re in line somewhere, and I need to join them. Thank you for the dance offer, though. Maybe some other time. It was nice meeting you, Marco.” She twisted from his embrace and walked a few feet away.
Within seconds, two large, warm hands settled onto her shoulders and halted her getaway. Marco brought her back against his chest, her butt cheeks meeting his well-defined crotch. His hands glided downward over her arms to her hands, lacing his fingers with hers.
His lips touched her ear’s outer edge. “Mmm…mi linda. Do not run from me.”
His whisper prowled up and down her spine. Undeniable need ripped through her. It would be so easy to surrender and allow this man to deliver everything his touch promised. She’d always played it safe—did everything the way she was supposed to. Hadn’t she been a good mother? A good wife?
“You are thinking this is dangerous. Prohibido—forbidden,” his voice hissed softly into her ear again.
The words held her suspended, her mind in a war waged between desire and the illusion of a life she’d created.