Page 30 of My Salvation
“Please excuse us, Vivienne. I’m about to dance with the most intriguing woman I’ve ever met.”
Laughing, I put my hand in his and let him lead me to the dance floor. Vivienne stares at us for a second, her mouth open, before she turns on her heels and stalks away.
“Smooth, Mr. Monroe. And I particularly like the part about being the most intriguing woman you have ever met.”
“I’m very sorry Vivienne interrupted our date, but I didn’t lie. You are the most intriguing woman I’ve ever met,” he says seriously. His right hand reaches around to my back, while he holds up his left hand for me to clasp.
My right hand clasps his left, while my other arm lies on top of his right arm. As I get into position, I hear the instructor call out the steps, and we walk through them. Silently, I snicker. I never told Lowell I could dance the tango, but in his arrogance, he assured me his ability to lead would be enough. Let’s see if that’s true.
Frowning in concentration, I attempt the eight basic steps but “accidentally” step on his toes several times. I then purposely step forward when I should step back, causing him to pivot sharply. Looking down at my feet, instead of up at him, I slide my thigh between his.
“I think I saw this part in a movie,” I explain.
I’m breathless from holding in my laughter as I rub my leg up the inside of Lowell’s. Watching his face, I see him swallow hard, so I lean in a bit and kick up my heel before sliding my leg back towards my own body.
Lowell frowns as he realizes I can’t dance very well. Stopping, he instructs me to follow four of the eight beginner steps first. Looking down at my feet, I follow his cue, and we smoothly but slowly step to the same four steps.
“Look at me,” he murmurs as I continue to look down.
I don’t think I can look at him without laughing. His hand reaches out and takes my chin, pulling it up to look at him. Staring into his eyes, I can’t maintain the ruse and burst out laughing.
Understanding dawns, and he glares at me. In retaliation, he moves faster. As he realizes I can easily match the faster pace, he tries to lead me in the eight basic beginner steps. Challenging him in return, I lead him into new advanced steps. I lean away; he pulls me back. I lean back; he bends over me. Taking over the lead, he challenges me to follow as he pivots and forces me to cross on the outside. I kick up my heel and pivot. He pushes me away in a twirl, then pulls me back tight.
Pivoting in the opposite direction, I realize while this has been fun, I really want him to lead. Slowing, I wait for him to direct our next move. Looking up into his eyes, I convey my willingness to let him lead us in this dance. Seeing my submission, he smiles darkly.
It releases something wild in him. Our moves become more precise and intricate, but controlled and lightning fast. He is dominant in his lead. With just the slightest pressure, he moves me in the direction he wants me. His leg slides between mine, then he pivots. He forces my body to the outside, to the inside, twirling and stepping and pushing, me to my limit. Our bodies align, we pull apart. Where we touch, fires erupt.
My heart pounds. Sensuality coats every step until suddenly the music peaks. He steps so my dress slides to the side, baring my leg in its entirety to his gaze. His hand reaches down and taps my thigh, indicating I should raise it. Once it comes off the ground, his hand glides down to my ankle, and circling it with his fingers, he pulls it around his hips. He leans back, pulling me forward, forcing me to rely solely on him to hold me up. The lines of his body are taut as they hold us in position. The music ends.
Breathing rapidly, we stare at each other. My heart is pounding, and my body tingles with exhilaration and desire. His eyes drop to my mouth, as if his only thought is to devour it. The crowd applauds and breaks the moment. He pulls me up, letting my leg drop, and twirls me out to take my curtsy to the crowd. I tighten my hand in his, sweeping my other hand towards him in acknowledgement.
Smiling, we make our way over to the table. He leans over and drops a quick kiss on my bare shoulder before excusing himself to the restroom. As I take a long drink of water, I notice Vivienne is glaring at me from across the room. I toast her with my water, then ignore her. Lowell comes back, still flushed, and drinks some water. He asks if I would like to stay and dance some more or head home. Looking down at my beautiful dress and back up at this intriguing man, I want to dance all night. A corner of his mouth lifts, and he reaches for my hand.
Later that evening, as Lowell drives me home, my body hums with sexual tension. When leading, he demands complete control and focus. Although, I learned challenging his lead often resulted in the most exhilarating moments in the dance.
When we get to my apartment, he walks me up and comes inside. Without saying anything, he holds up his hands in the dance position. Wondering what he is up to, I step into them, and he leads me on a few moves before pulling the same final move he did in our first dance. As my leg wraps around his hips, he leans in and kisses me. His kiss mimics the dance. Deeply sensual and tightly controlled. His passion is icy and searing, burning me up while forcing me to submit to the boundaries of the kiss. I cannot move one inch of my body without falling, so I’m completely at his mercy in every way. By the time the kiss ends, the leg I’m using to stand on is quivering.
Dropping my first leg, I stand caged in his arms. “That is how I wanted to end the first dance,” he says huskily. “Thank you for the date.”
Still feeling the hard imprint of his mouth, my voice is light as I breathlessly thank him for the dinner and dancing. Bowing slightly, he says goodnight. After he walks out the door, I twirl around and around as I think about the night. That was the most sensual date ever. Grabbing a glass of water, I switch out the lights and head back to the bedroom, dancing along the way.
