Page 160 of To Tango, with Desire

I paused at the entrance, struck by the silence. There was no trilling violin or dancing bandoneon to greet me. There was no music at all.

Frowning, I walked through the hall and into the milonga.

Then gasped at the sight.

I was surrounded by candles, the soft light casting a romantic glow in the large space. Tentatively, I walked farther into the empty room, taken aback by the sea of rose petals beneath my feet. It was like I was in some magical dream. Lining the walls were decorative flowers, similar to the garlands we’d had on our wedding day. It draped the walls and hugged the circular tables that bordered the large, rectangular dance floor in the middle of the room.

I turned then jolted at the sight of my husband, sitting in the far corner.

“Zane? What is this?”

He stood now, walking towards me. I was struck by how different he was to the man I’d first met. We’d grown together, making allowances for our needs and desires. We were partners, not just husband and wife.

True equals.

“Amira.”

My heart jolted at the sight of him. He was achingly handsome in his dark suit. But it was the way he looked at me that never failed to make me tremble.

“Where is everyone?”

“This is it. Just us. I believe it’s time you danced with me.” Zane unlocked his phone, playing a romantic valz. The sound reverberated through the speakers, echoing across the empty hall.

I stepped into his open arms, accepting his invitation. His hand rested on my back, drawing me in. Sighing now, and still slightly nervous, I pressed my chest to his, comforted by his warmth. His scent.

Cinnamon and leather.

I rested my temple against his, waiting for him to lead. But he held me close, marking the time with his feet, softly swaying us both from side to side.

The music crescendoed, a calling of violins encouraging us to move. And when Zane did, we flew. Soaring with the strings, we danced, losing ourselves in the melody. I closed my eyes, overcome.

It was romantic, sensual, and a tender reminder of our first dance.

My heart swelled. It was the best surprise yet. The most cherished.

He was a magnetic leader, confident, assured, attuned to me in a way no other man ever had been. I followed, adding my own trills and adornos, teasing with playful flicks of my feet.

We were lost in the valz, in the music, in each other.

When the song ended, he murmured in my ear, “Another?”

I smiled, accepting his offer, wanting to be nowhere else but in his arms. As song after song played, we danced, teasing each other, drawing out our need.

Dancing with this man never failed to leave me aroused. I wanted him with an aching fierceness that made my body tremble.

By the time we pulled away, I was yearning for more.

“I asked you here not just to have our own private milonga.”

“Okay. You’ve got me. I’m intrigued as to what else you have up your sleeve.”

“Trust me, it took a lot of bribing for Gus to let me have this space.”

“I believe generous donation is what you meant to say.”

His eyes turned wicked. “Clever woman.”

“Out with it then, husband. What else do you have in store for me?”