Page 74 of Every Time We Touch

“Thank you,” I deadpan. “Now pay attention.”

“I am paying attention.”

“A different kind of attention.” I look her in the eye and a burst of sheer happiness explodes inside me.

“Okay. I’m ready, Teach. Show me again.”

She seems to pay attention to my feet more than my hips this time around.

“Try it,” I say. “Use the floor. Push from your standing leg. Feel the ground.”

Jen narrows her eyes in concentration and tries the movement. The first step is a little hesitant, but then she settles into it, transferring her weight exactly how I told her to.

“That’s so annoying.” I can’t help but smile.

“What?”

“Most people look like they’re trying to solve a math problem with their hips during their first rumba lesson.” I point at her feet. “Your weight’s exactly where it should be.”

A pleased smile spreads across Jen’s face.

“Don’t get too cocky.” It takes everything I’ve got to not put my hands on her ass—she’s mesmerizing when she dances, too. “But good effort.”

“I respond very well to praise,” Jen says.

“Excellent. If you can do that five more times, adding a little more feeling with each one, I’ll allow you a dance with the teacher.”

I watch her shift her weight again. A wave of affection rises in my chest.

“Very good,” I say, because telling her she’s beautiful would be wildly unhelpful to my teaching efforts. “Again, please.”

Even though, for a beginner, she’s better than most, it must be daunting for her to do this in front of me.

“That’s my girl.” My voice is thick with pride.

The rumba is a dance that needs surrender as well as precision. It’s much more feeling than thinking. Even though I can’t—and don’t—expect a novice like Jen to already master this, the rumba is the perfect dance for us right now.

“Time for your dance with the teacher.” It’s only one basic step, but I can’t wait to practice it with her.

“I knew sleeping with the instructor would pay off.”

I suppress my chuckle and step toward her. I take Jen’s right hand in my left, settling my other hand on her waist.

“Follow me.”

She exhales a long breath, and then we begin. The rumba asks you to move from somewhere deep inside of you, and Jen feels it instinctively. Her hips find the delayed beat without me having to tell her. Her weight settles and shifts and her body moves slowly, and ever so sensually, along with mine. There’s nothing like it in the whole wide world.

“You’re doing it,” I say.

“I so fucking am,” she whispers, her body moving in sync with mine.

We move through the basic step again and again—it’s hard to stop. The studio is silent apart from the sound of our feet on the floor and the rhythm of our breath. And I know there’s only one thing that could take this beautiful moment to the next level of exquisite.

I stop our motion. “Stay right there.” I find my phone and scroll to “A Breathless Place.”

“Oh, god,” Jen says, when the first notes fill the room.

“Oh, yes.” I walk back to her and take her hand again. “Same step, but with music now.”