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Yeah, she thought. I hear that.
Hands on hips, Nadia blew a wave of hair from her forehead. “Ever wish Sam hadn’t decided on dance lessons?”
“Every damn day.”
“Well, at least we’re in step there.” She checked the clock. Fifty minutes still to fill. “Speaking of Sam, she picked the song she wants the two of you to dance to. I think now’s as good a time as any to hear it.”
“Can’t think of anything else I’d rather do.”
A smile kicked at the corner of her mouth as she found the whimsical Norah Jones song Sam had chosen and pressed play.
Ryder’s brow furrowed, before he nodded once. “I can handle that.”
“Can you handle some choreography to go with it?”
Beneath his deep tan, the man paled.
“No pirouettes, I promise. Only one overhead lift, right at the end. It’s tricky, but if you think you’re not man enough to pull it off...”
His colour was back, and with it came a dangerous gleam in his eyes.
“You think I’m joking?” she asked.
“I think you have a sadistic streak. Makes me wonder why.”
He said it as if it was a good thing, which sent utterly masochistic curls of pleasure straight to Nadia’s belly. “I’m not a nice person.”
“Nah, it’s something else,” he said, his gaze dropping to her mouth and staying there. “You’re plenty nice.”
“While you don’t play fair.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” When his eyes lifted back to hers they were lit with laughter. And heat. And promise. And absolute resolution. Despite her pleas he had no intention of backing down.
She looked at the impossible man before her in consternation. “You’re really ready for this?”
“Raring.”
You better be, she thought.
For the next half-hour she clapped out the counts as her old ballet teacher used to, till the shouts of her commands—knees straight! shoulders back!—echoed off the walls.
And soon they were both sweating. Not glowing, not perspiring, but dripping wet. While Sam’s song trickled through the room like water over stones in a brook, looming rolls of thunder in the distance brought with them an oppressive heat the industrial fans above merely seemed to push about the room.
But Nadia didn’t let up. Especially when Ryder actually seemed to respond. The man was tall and broad, which could make for a Frankenstein approach to dancing, but he had natural grace when he stopped trying to cage his instincts and just let go.
Nadia eased herself into Ryder’s frame, adjusting only slightly, using her body to urge him where he needed to go. And this time, as one, their feet began to move. Slowly, gently, no push or pull, just the music pulsing through the floorboards and rocking them to and fro.
Nadia nodded. Good boy.
The music swelled around them, all harp chords and piano keys, and the singer’s husky voice crooning about spinning round and round, moving so fast. Nadia moved Ryder forward, and then he moved her backward, the rhythm so natural she let him. He slid his hand an inch further around her back until her belly met his, and she let him do that too. He tucked their arms nearer their sides, which wasn’t classic dance hold, but even while it made Nadia’s breath swell she didn’t put a stop to it. The rhythm had other ideas as the dance swirled around and through them, binding them together and shutting out the world.
It was bound to happen, considering the way their bodies had fitted together in that kiss. That mind-blowing kiss—
Lightning lit up the room, followed by a crack of thunder, and then out went the lights. Then the fans. Music too. Not for the first time that week, but it was the first time they didn’t flicker straight back on.
The heavy silence, the oppressive stillness in the air, the shards of moonlight the only thing between them, it should have been the perfect chance for Nadia to cut her losses and call the lesson over. Except neither of them stopped swaying.
In fact, Nadia might even have leant her head against Ryder’s chest. Curled her fingers into the loops of his top. Melted a little when his chin landed gently atop her head. Melted a whole lot when his hands slid around her waist, across her tailbone, his thumbs dipping into the elastic of her skirt.
It was madness. Completely the opposite of what she’d set out to do with her hour. And not an altogether appropriate way to earn a fee.
But boy did she miss this. Not just the dancing, but the human connection. Skin on skin. Heat on heat. Feeling a part of something. Feeling discovered. Feeling wanted. And with every sway the sweetest sensation poured through her; a fragile serenity, not only filling nooks and crannies but opening them wide, till all that feeling pressed to the outer edges of her everything. And her heart became a bruising beat against her ribs.
