"I’m telling you," Cate tries to maintain focus. The touch, the atmosphere — Petra's very distracting. "I could’ve been the next Jennifer Lopez, and I’m a better dancer than you."
She’s cocky as hell. Her hands slide upward, fingers fanning on Petra's neck as her thumbs caress her jawline. Cate's body aligns with Petra's, their shapes interlocking without rhyme or reason.
"Oh, you are, huh?" Petra's brows lift, a teasing tone in her voice. "The next J.Lo?" A light laugh of amusement bubbles up in her throat, something far too fond lingering in her eyes. "Next you’re gonna tell me you could out dance Shakira."