“Do I make you nervous?"His gaze travels from my eyes to my breasts and down to where my dress meets my thighs. "In that dress you do.”

“Oh, God. I'm in big trouble. Because I'm staring. I can't keep my eyes from ogling his chiseled triceps and biceps and every other "eps ' he has. The butterflies in my stomach have just multiplied tenfold as my wandering gaze meets his.”

“Are you following me?" she asks, but doesn't meet my gaze."Yeah," I say."Why?"I give her the only honest and true answer I have. "You're where I want to be.”

“Is that your cheap way of telling me you want to kiss me?”He looks into my eyes, his dark gaze capturing mine. “Querida, I always want to kiss you.”

“When my eyes meet his gaze as we're sitting here staring at each other, time stops. Those eyes are piercing mine, and I can swear at this moment he senses the real me. The one without the attitude, without the facade[...]”

“Then what sport do you play?"Carlos puts down his food. Oh, no. He's got a rebellious gleam in his eye as he says, "The horizontal tango."-------------------------------------------"Dancing really isn't a sport," Brandon tells Carlos, oblivious to the shock at the rest of the table."It is when I do it," Carlos says.-------------------------------------------Brandon turns to my dad with big, innocent eyes."Daddy, do YOU know how to do the horizontal tango?”

“And what do you want right now?" Right now I itch to heal his wounds and forget my own.He touches my cheek with the tips of his fingers.My breath hitches. "Do you want to kiss me, Alex?" I whisper."Dios mio, I want to kiss you ... to taste your lips, your tongue." He gently traces my lips withthe tips of his fingers. "Do you want me to kiss you? Nobody else would know but the two of us.”