Jordie beams a smile my way and mouths, “I love this one.” Every cell in my body is glad I invited her tonight.
Esperanza continues. “While the tango is associated with Latin culture, it is technically considered a standard dance rather than a Latin dance, as far as ballroom classification goes.” Her eyes scan the room as she paces in her heels. “We will move on to strictly Latin dances such as the cha-cha-chá, rumba, and samba once we’re done with this one.” She smiles as excitement rustles around the room. Everyone has been looking forward to learning the Latin dances.
Class begins, and after learning some basic footwork and watching Esperanza and Boris demonstrate the perfect hold, I get to take Jordie in my arms again. I’m in heaven.
We’re clunky and awkward at first, but after bumbling around with missed footwork for about fifteen minutes—interspersed with lots of laughter—something clicks. I credit Jordie’s natural athleticism rather than anything I’m doing, but we’re moving with a certain grace now. The way she moves her long, lean body in those tight clothes is enough to bring any man to his knees.
Boris is walking between the rows of couples, making adjustments as needed, and he finally stops beside us. I lead Jordie through the basic footwork and a simple spin, and the man nods eagerly.
“Goot. Now leg.” He points to Jordie and then my hip.
“Um, okay,” she says, unsure. “Like this?”
She flings her long leg around my hip, and I grin and whisper, “This seems vaguely familiar,” drawing a blush up her neck.
“Down then up,” Boris directs, and Jordie leans back, her blonde ponytail brushing the floor.
I jerk her back up until we’re nose to nose with our faces only an inch apart. The chemistry between us sizzles, and I have the overwhelming urge to kiss the shit out of her… before Boris breaks the moment with a happy clap.
“Ees so goot. Yes!”
By the time class is done, Jordie and I are objectively the best couple on the floor. As we’re changing our shoes, I ask, “Did you have fun?”
A slight sheen of sweat coats her face, and she’s fucking radiant when she aims her smile my way. “I loved it. I’m so glad you brought me.”
“Do you think you’d like to come back? Every week, I mean?”
Her smile falters a little. “How much do the classes cost?”
I brush a loose strand of damp hair from her cheek, probably too intimate a touch, but it was an automatic thing my hand did on its own.
“I can just add you to my account. They offer a discount if you’re registered as a couple instead of a single.” A wrinkle mars her smooth forehead, and I rush to add, “You’d really be doing me a favor because the previous lady they partnered me with has finished her lessons. She was just here to learn the waltz. It’s worth a few extra bucks a month to know I’ll have the same partner each week.”
It’s more than a few extra bucks, but she doesn’t need to know that. There’s a desperate burning inside me that needs this connection with her.
“Okay,” she relents, gnawing on her full bottom lip, “but only if you’ll let me buy dinner afterward.”
It goes against every instinct inside me, but I’d pretty much agree to anything for her to come back again. Plus, this means we’ll get to share a meal together every week.
“I accept,” I tell her, standing and pulling her to her feet. “Now, are you brave enough to try the weirdest restaurant in Houston?”
Her eyes glimmer with the challenge. “Let’s do it.”
“Do it?” I ask, letting a bit of innuendo color my words.
Jordie rolls her eyes. “Eat, Hale.”
“You want to eat Hale? Sounds like a plan to me.”
She smacks me upside the head, but I can’t help but see the smile she’s trying to hide.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Motivation and masturbation
Jordie
We walk down to the restaurant in the strip mall and stop outside the door, my eyes fixed on the sign in the window.
