They went through the steps woodenly as Alondro counted to eight.
“Feel the dance,” Alondro said to them. “Right now you’re too worried about how the steps look. I want you to reach into how it feels.”
They tried again, but Eliana kept stepping forward when she should have stepped back, or turning right when she should have turned left. She stared at her feet, trying to memorize the steps, frustrated at doing so poorly.
“Can I show you?” Alondro held out his hand, and when Eliana took it, he swiveled her into him. “Look at me, sweet Eliana, not at your feet. Don’t let your eyes dictate the dance. Feel it.”
Shefeltherself stepping all over his shiny black shoes.
“Close your eyes,” Alondro said. “Let go of control. Let go of trying to do it right, and lean into the experience.”
She closed her eyes, reluctantly, but it did force her to feel for the way his hand led her to the next dance move. They didn’t dance to music, just the sound of their breathing and Alondro’s lyrical counting.
Layer by layer she dropped her expectations of herself—to be the best, to win at this, to be mistake free, and she just danced. She felt like a lazily flowing brook, gliding peacefully over smooth stones, instead of the raging river trying to smash through rocks she usually channeled.
And it felt … good. Freeing.
“Perfect!” Alondro announced as he pulled her to a gentle stop and spoke quietly, just for her to hear. “When you allow yourself to breathe in the movements and trust yourself, you finally become who you are meant to be. Salsa mimics life in this way. Now, for your partner.”
She stepped back while Alondro spoke quietly with Asher. Alondro showed Asher how to lead with his hand high on her ribs, and then said a few more things that had Asher darting glances in her direction. Asher nodded, and when he walked toward Eliana, it was with purposeful steps and a heated expression.
Her blood was a molten river racing through her veins. Acclimating to this version of Asher was impossible.
“Take your partner,” Alondro instructed.
Asher stood in front of Eliana and held out his hand, waiting for her to take it. She hesitated, but of course she slid her fingers into his. How could she not?
His hand was large around her small, slender fingers. He brushed his thumb along the soft skin at the inside of her palm, sending a pleasant shiver through her.
Alondro pressed play on his phone, and the opening notes of a salsa song filled the ballroom via the Bluetooth speakers. “This song is about desire and longing, about endless days of separation spiraling toward passionate nights together—”
Asher’s hand tightened almost imperceptibly on hers, and he led her in the steps they’d just learned. His body emanated heat as it moved tantalizingly close to hers, reeling her in with desire and flinging her away before the fulfillment of it.
One of her hands gripped his, while the other held his muscular shoulder. His firm deltoids under her hand led to a bulging bicep that begged for her to trail her fingers down it. What would he do if she pressed her lips to his neck? If she buried her hands in his hair?
His eyes darkened as if he could read her thoughts. He spun her out, and when he pulled her back in, she was much closer to him than before.
Energy pulsed between them, visceral and heady.
The music stopped, and it was just the two of them in the room, breathless with exertion. With passion. With possibility. Eliana was drawn to Asher like a magnetic force specific only to her, drawing her toward him no matter where he went, linking them in sensations she’d never felt before. Brick by brick, her walls crumbled around her, leaving her bare, exposed. But with Asher, she felt safe.
His gaze flickered to her mouth, and her lips parted as her eyes fluttered shut. She’d never wanted anything more than to be connected to Asher. To have his mouth pressed to hers. To kiss him until she couldn’t think or talk or breathe, but to just exist. His breath flitted against her lips. He was a mere whisper away.
“Great job!” Alondro clapped his hands, tearing her painfully from the spell. She blinked through the haze of desire, unsteady with that confused feeling she sometimes had after being awoken from a deep sleep. “You two are naturals. And your chemistry?” He did a chef’s kiss.
Confusion buffeted Eliana like wave after endless wave attempting to drag her down.
“Thank you,” Asher said to Alondro. His voice was thick, and he cleared his throat. “That was really fun.”
“Fun,” she said weakly. Was that the word she’d use? Enlightening? Intoxicating? Frightening?
They left the ballroom, the silence between them charged. When Eliana was a kid, she used to scuff her shoes against the carpet, never letting her feet break contact until after she touched Julia on the arm so she could shock her and make her sister shriek.
That’s how she felt now. If she broke this moment, one of them would get hurt. She didn’t know if it would be her or Asher, but either way, she didn’t like it.
They arrived at the exit leading out of The Palms, and Asher tugged her to a stop. He rubbed his free hand along the back of his neck. “Eliana, I—”
“Asher!” Mr. Richardson approached them panting, Polly at his heels. She threw them an apologetic grimace. “I have an interested party for your grandpa’s bungalow.”
