“You’ve seriously never learned how to dance bachata?” Carlos asked, his voice already breaking with a laugh threatening to explode.

As expected, he cackled when you said no and immediately grew defensive. His large hand slipped down to your waist, squeezing the soft flesh and pulling your body flush against his. “Que ternura,” he chuckled. “It’s pretty easy. I’ll teach you, yeah?”

With his free hand, he pinched your chin to bring your attention back to him. “Hands around my neck, nena.”