Page 50 of When Hearts Awaken

“Go find someone else to bother—all those women fawning over you, pick any of them.”

“Do I sense jealousy?”

“Please. As if I’d be jealous of women stupid enough to need dance lessons from the likes of you, you uncoordinated buffoon.”

Her face flushes, the pulse on her neck fluttering harder.You little liar, Taylor.

Leaning in, I murmur, “Buffoon, huh? Did you learn that word from school?”

She snorts, finally opening her eyes and the dim glow of the strobe lights catches her gray irises, highlighting the small striations. And for a moment, I forgot what I was going to say, rendered speechless by the pools of quicksilver.

Her eyes darken as she stares at me. I watch her gaze drip over my face, landing on my lips before moving back up, and I find myself doing the same.

Heat curls around my groin, my cock clearly not getting the instruction we’re not supposed to be interested in this madwoman.

Damn weddings—makes even the sanest people go insane.

The sultry strains of the song fan the flames between us, and my eyes snare at the rapid pulse beckoning me on her slender neck and suddenly common sense seems overrated.

“I bet I could out dance you,” I rasp, “this song. The Argentine tango.”

Her eyes widen and those voluptuous dark purple lips part. “You?Out dance me? A professional dancer?”

I lean in. “Want to bet? Appearances can be deceiving.”

Couples sweep by us, the ladies hooking their legs around their partners’ in a dance resembling passionate sex. My fingers twitch at my sides. I want to touch her—skin to skin—dig my fingers into her smooth flesh, feel her fire straight from the source.

Taylor falters, her mouth now panting quick breaths. Her nostrils flare as she stares at my lips again. My cock jolts in my pants.

Fuck.

I hold out my hand. “Is the badass ballerina scared? I won’t bite. Unless you want me to, little girl.”

“Don’t ‘little girl’ me.” Indignation flashes in her scowl and she jams her hand in mine and pulls me on to the dance floor.

“Do you prefer brat?” My lips cock up in a grin as I snake my other arm around her and pull her flush against me so that every inch of our bodies is pressing against each other—her soft curves against my hard planes. Her breath hitches. I swallow the ball in my throat as awareness throbs between us. She steps away and I pull her back harder.

“I don’t think so, minx. I lead in the tango,” I murmur in her ear, and she fucking shudders, her body becoming pliant.She’d take it all so well, this inner submissive streak of hers. She just needs someone to get her out of her head.

Blood rushes to my stiffening cock. It’s a fucking hopeless cause. I have a beautiful woman in my arms. This is just biology.Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

Sliding my hands to her hips, I guide her into a figure eight position as she steps forward, her movements hitting each beat of the music, but her head is still held too high, arms too graceful.

Too indifferent, much like the makeup she wears to hide herself from the world.

I snap her toward me.

“That’s theocho. And this is tango, Taylor. Not ballet. Do I need to teach you how to feel the music in your blood?” I smirk before pushing her away and following her retreat.

Her muscles tense and she hurls a seething glare capable of murder my way. This time, when she makes her way toward me, I see the fire in her steps with every stomp on the floor.

Much better.

“Do they teach tango along with acting lessons at the fancy-ass prep schools for billionaires?” she hurls back at me when we come together.

I breathe in her scent—sweet, addictive nectar—and it fans the flames in my chest.

Every part of me awakens as I pause on the dance floor, watching her slowly circle me like she’s a predator and I’m her prey.

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