“Teach me?”
“Yes. Teach you. You wanted me to teach you things, and I can. But you don’t get to be picky about what it is I teach you. How can you know what you don’t know?”
“This is ridiculous.”
She picked up a remote control and pointed it at the corner of the room, and music began to play.
“Don’t be silly.”
She crossed the space and draped her hand over his shoulder.
On instinct, he put his hand on her waist. And he regretted it instantly. His fingertips burned. The dress was as thin as he had thought it was. He looked closely, he could see the shape of her pert breasts beneath that thin fabric.
It had been his opinion that pursuing sex would be a distraction as he had been reestablishing his country. He saw now that it had been a mistake to deprive himself. Because he was on edge. On edge in a way he certainly wouldn’t be if it had been more recently that he had satisfied himself. Surely then he would not be half so taken in by the feel of her beneath his palm.
“Come on,” she said. “I’m going to lead, just for the moment. I’m sure that you’ll pick it up.”
And then she was counting, as she gripped his hand in hers and began to guide him along. Her steps were decisive, perfectly in rhythm. He could hear the rhythm. He could feel it. He was used to the hoofbeats of his horse, the pounding of his heart, establishing the tempo.
He could understand dancing in that sense. But he was distracted. Wholly and completely by the warmth of her body. By the shape of her.
The incendiary beauty when she looked into his eyes. All that green.
The song switched to something faster, and her steps picked up as well.
And soon, he had simply lost hold of himself. The time, the place, and why he had objected to the dance in the first place. There was nothing but this. But her. But him. There was no world outside these walls and it made him feel like he was something different than he had been all these years.
Perhaps a man and not simply a king.
The music changed again, this time going slow.
He found himself tightening his hold on her, his hand on her waist moving lower as he brought her body in closer to his. Her breasts touched his chest and he felt a shiver move through her body.
She looked up at him, and her cheeks were pink, her eyes sparkling.
She wanted him.
That much was clear. She was responding to his nearness, his touch.
As if you aren’t being taken in by her.
For this moment, it didn’t matter. As long as he knew what was happening. This was a dancing lesson and he was enjoying having a woman in his arms again. There would be no broader implications. Nothing that reached beyond that.
It was just a moment.
And in the moment it was all that was real.
“You lead,” she whispered.
And then she was no longer guiding the steps. He took over, patterning his movements after hers. They moved together, the seamless rhythm shocking him as they hit each step in sync. Another man would be tempted to make a metaphor from it, but he didn’t believe in romanticizing things.
He didn’t believe in romance at all.
But the heat being generated between them now wasn’t romance. What it was, though, was impossible to deny.
They were spinning around the room; he moved as if he were on air, and she was in the clouds with him. Perhaps that was close to romance as he would ever get.
Then he backed her up against the bookcase on the wall, without realizing he had gotten so close.
