Page 7
Chapter Three
Amira sensedthe shift in the air when she came home from work that evening. It was an invisible rippling along her skin. A sense that tonight would be different. Not one to disregard her gut instinct, she showered with care, taking time with her appearance. She left her auburn hair unbound, letting it flow to her shoulder in loose waves.
Zane would be there, as he was every Thursday night. Since the lesson two months ago, they had developed an unspoken agreement. Every week they would attend Gus’ milonga to dance. And every week she yearned for more.
Whilst their friendship was new, their conversations were rarely superficial. Even still, there was so much about him she had yet to learn. It fascinated her that a man as well-traveled and experienced as Zane hadn’t wanted to settle down. To commit to one person.
His reasoning was vague, a strategy he used to dodge any personal questions. He was an individual very much in control. A man used to getting his way.
And she was addicted.
Amira liked who she was when they were together; open, candid, revealing parts of herself she never would with a stranger. But she wanted to dig a little further, to understand why she was drawn to him. In order to do that she needed to get to know the man behind the expensive suits.
Could he know of how often she fantasized about him? How often she came thinking about him inside her?
She thought he might have an inkling. And that suited her just fine.
Amira entered the milonga that evening, nerves in disarray. Feeling bold, she had worn her favorite silk dress. It was a daring design that showcased every inch of her body, hugging her ass and clinging to her curves; she was on display for those who dared to look.
But she cared only for one man’s response. And when she stepped further into the hall, she was aware of it. That spark. And just as suddenly, her shoulders loosened, her muscles relaxed. She didn’t regret her choice of outfit for a second.
She was attuned to Zane’s presence. Like a pulse, she could sense him, strong and steady, just beneath the surface. She spotted him across the dance floor, sitting at the DJ table. Immaculate in yet another dark suit, he stared back at her, no doubt registering her shock. She was rooted to the ground. He never once mentioned he DJ’d tango music. But there he was, set up at the table, relaxed, in command, as if this was his regular gig.
Amira wandered to a group of dancers milling about at the edge of the floor. The lesson had ended for the evening, and a steady stream of people filled the hall. She took her time socializing, pleased when a few of the dancers complimented her on her dress, asking about her designs. Even though their conversation was engaging, the buzzing beneath her skin distracted her.
Yes, something was different tonight. She couldn’t describe it, but she sensed it. With every nerve in her body, something was building.
She was about to excuse herself when one of the dancers moved closer, asking if he could claim the first tanda.
“She’s spoken for.”
Amira turned. Zane stood behind her and briefly rested his hand on her back, claiming the first dance. One reserved for lovers or friends.
He raised one dark eyebrow, a question of her acceptance.
“I am. But the second tanda is free.”
The dancer nodded at her, then turned to Zane.
“DJ-ing on your own tonight?”
“As you see.”
“It’s all the rage nowadays to co-DJ. Not as much work. Happening a lot in Europe at the moment. I was just in Prague last month when a few of the top dancers did a few of the weekday milongas like that.”
“I don’t like to share.” Zane stared at her now, his fingers trailing down her spine. The direct contact on her over-heated skin was a delicious torture.
She acknowledged his message with a raised eyebrow even as her body trembled. Her pulse danced to an odd rhythm. The rest of the conversation was lost on her. She was captivated by his lingering touch, by her desire for more. It seemed like an age before the music for the first tanda came on.
“I didn’t know you DJ’d,” Amira murmured when he led her to the floor.
“I appreciate the simple luxuries in life. Music is one of them, especially tango. All those layers—the piano fighting with the violin, the bandoneon mediating between the two…it’s captivating. I make it my personal creed to always invest in things that are pleasurable. Tell me, what do you do to relieve stress, Amira? When you’re all alone at night?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she whispered.
“I would. I never ask unless I’m prepared for the answer.”
The invitation hung in the air.
