The dance ended and as soon as the next song started Quinn lost sight of Maya because she was surrounded by a group of people, probably more contenders for a dance with her. A few moments later, Maya emerged from the group and, gingerly wiping the sweat from her brow with one outstretched finger, walked toward Quinn.
“Ernie knows his moves,” she said.
Quinn gave her the cocktail. “Here. Rehydrate. I have a feeling you won’t get a lot of time to rest tonight.”
“Nor will you.” Maya locked her gaze on Quinn. “I’m out with you tonight. I want to dance with you.” She grabbed hold of Quinn’s blouse. “Come on.” She put her glass back on the bar and, without even considering no for an answer, dragged Quinn onto the dance floor.
Even though the club was packed, they were automatically given space, as if in reverence to the great Maya Dixon. Quinn felt self-conscious because she didn’t have moves like Maya—or Ernie. Admittedly, after asking Maya out, and knowing where she would be taking her if she said yes, Quinn had looked up a few salsa videos on YouTube and she’d practiced the steps in the living room when Griff had been out.
“Just follow my lead,” Maya said into her ear. “Trust me,” she said. “You’ve got this.”
Of course, Quinn stepped onto Maya’s toes and her hips swayed in the wrong direction while sweat trickled down her spine, pooling at the small of her back. Of course, she made mistakes and her feet didn’t feel like they wanted to cooperate, but, in the end, it didn’t matter. Because when she got it right and they were in sync for half a minute here and ten seconds there, it felt like the most exhilarating taste of freedom Quinn had ever experienced. Even in those too-brief moments of unison she could feel why people became addicted to dancing with someone else in this way. The rhythm, the fusion of bodies, the steady hand of your partner on your arm. In this case, that partner was Maya, whom, Quinn concluded as they reached the end of their first dance, it was going to be impossible not to fall completely in love with.
Chapter 29
Maya’s legs wobbled like jelly when she got out of the cab. She hadn’t danced this long and this hard for years. She’d searched on the internet for clubs like the one Quinn had taken her to but she hadn’t had any luck finding a place like that herself.
“The elevator in your building better be working,” Maya said on a sigh. She was tired but her fatigue didn’t match the euphoria that coursed through her. To dance the night away like that was like a delicious dream.
“This,” Quinn pointed at a rather decrepit-looking building across the street, “is what they call a Greenpoint walk-up. We’re on the fourth floor. I hope you have some juice left in those sublime legs of yours.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Maya eyed the building. It reminded her of Tommy’s first apartment after college.
“I’d carry you up but you all but exhausted me.” Quinn unlocked the front door. A too-bright light flickered on, illuminating a stairwell that had seen better days. Quinn led the way and Maya didn’t have much choice but to follow, although the post-dancing euphoria was quickly leaving her.
“Jesus,” Maya panted when she made it up the stairs. “You could have warned me to save some of my energy.”
Quinn held a finger against her lips. “It’s late, and Griff will be asleep.”
Oh yes, the roommate. Add that to the walk-up, and going home with Quinn was beginning to feel more like a cold shower—especially after the hot, scintillating bath Maya had just stepped out of. She didn’t much feel like a harsh dose of reality this late at night. Truth be told, she just wanted to collapse into a soft bed.
Quinn showed Maya into the apartment. Maya tried to stop herself from casting her gaze about—she didn’t want to judge how Quinn lived any more than she’d already done—but her gaze seemed to have a mind of its own. The apartment was so small it felt like there was no room to move.
Quinn fetched two glasses from a cabinet and filled them with water from the faucet. She handed one to Maya. “Welcome to Casa Hathaway-Griffin.” She stood there grinning, and it made Maya forget where she was for a moment—Quinn’s smile had that effect on her.
“Thank you for taking me dancing.” Maya drank some water. “What a night. I felt like royalty.”
Quinn set her glass down and bridged the small distance between them. “There was only one queen of salsa in that club tonight and that was you.” She took Maya’s glass and put it in the sink. Then she grabbed Maya’s hand and stroked her palm. “You were phenomenal out there. Not to mention fucking hot.” She put Maya’s hand against her lower belly, fingers pointing downward. “Care to find out how wet I am for you right now?”
Maya was quickly forgetting about her surroundings even more. Quinn had a real knack for setting a mood with her smooth words and small actions, like guiding Maya’s hand down her pants. Maya nodded, because of course she wanted to find out. Quinn had not only given her one of the best nights she’d had since moving to the city, but they had danced together most of the night, their hips glued together, their gaze connected, their arousal growing as time passed.
Quinn flipped her jeans button open and Maya let her hand slide down. Quinn took a step back until she was against the fridge door. Maya’s hand slid lower as she followed.
“Not a word of a lie out of your mouth,” Maya whispered when she encountered Quinn’s wetness.
“I want you so much,” Quinn groaned. “It should be illegal.”
Maya slid her finger a little deeper between Quinn’s legs. “What about your roommate?” she
