He stroked her leg, toying with the garter. “No, I think I understand. It’s similar to a polka. It has syncopated accents and four beats in each measure, and a quarter note receives one count.”
“Are you speaking English?” she asked. “I’m not fond of maths.” She snatched her leg out of his grip and stepped back. “For me, tango is all about seduction and the sensual chase.” She took another step back. “It’s more of a tease than an action.”
He could do nothing but follow her. He took her waist again and pulled her closer. But she slid out of his grip again, holding his hand. He chased her because he wanted her leg around him again.
As he gave her hand a tug, she twirled towards him, letting his arm coil around her. She repeated the move a couple of times.
Before he knew it, he was dancing. Surely, his steps had little to do with the tango, but he twirled, following her moves and stepping around the room in a circle.
The more she fled from him, the more he chased her. The steps turned faster. He hardly knew what he was doing, but it didn’t matter. She repeated the gesture of caressing his neck, dispelling his last ounce of uneasiness. When she hooked her leg around him, he grabbed it under her knee.
“I want my kiss now.”
The intense possessiveness in his voice surprised even himself. He leant closer, but she arched her back.
“If you want a kiss, come and get it.” She slipped through his grip faster than he could say ‘tango’ and twirled across the room.
He chased her again and took her hand. Before pulling her towards him, he let her make a few turns. When she finished, he was too aroused not to kiss her.
The kiss wasn’t sweet or gentle but a battle that involved their whole bodies. Her skirts went up and legs went around him, and he held her up. She became demanding, fighting for dominance. He loved every moment of it.
He moved her towards the bed until they both fell in it, still kissing each other. He controlled the fall with his hands so as not to crush her, but after that, he showed no mercy. He unbuttoned her gown in a frenzy.
She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and the falls of his trousers. Somehow, they were both half-naked in a moment. He scattered kisses on every available inch of her smooth skin, his hand pushing aside her chemise and pulling off her drawers. The promise he’d made to be slow and gentle echoed from a corner of his mind. Yes, he ought to ask before going any further.
“Why did you stop?” she asked before he could say anything.
“Are you sure you want this now?” He panted so hard his words were broken.
“Do I look like a woman who has doubts?” She slipped a hand between them and wrapped it around him.
The shock silenced him.
“I have no doubts. And to be honest, I’m tired of waiting and always wanting.” She spread her legs. “I begin to think you don’t want me, that you’re making excuses not to bed me because you don’t find me very attractive.”
“What?” he roared.
The kiss he gave her held no kindness. It was sheer passion to dispel all her doubts. She matched his strength as he devoured her mouth. He broke the kiss, only to drag his lips down her neck and draw her nipple into his mouth.
He couldn’t get enough of her. He caressed, kissed, and tongued every inch of her he could reach. She kept stroking him with her gentle hand.
The movement was uncertain and at times a little too tight, but he didn’t care. They both stilled and drew in a breath when his blunt tip touched her.
“Angeline,” he whispered. “Tell me to stop.”
“Never.” She put her hands on his shoulders and urged him in. “Do it. I need it.”
“It’s going to hurt.”
“I don’t care.”
He kissed her again before switching places. She straddled him, which he loved because he could cup her breasts.
“And now?” she asked.
He undid her chignon, scattering hairpins anywhere. The black silk cascade of her hair fell over her breasts. Perfection.
“Go at your own pace,” he said.
