Page 67 of In Step

I rolled my eyes at him, and he kissed me.

“Now, get those shoes off and let’s see if you can keep up with me in a bigger space.”

“Pfft. Watch me.” I shucked off my shoes. “While you’ve been busy this week, I’ve been practising on the sly.”

His brows shot up. “Really?”

I shrugged and wriggled my toes in the cool air. “I could possibly be a little more competitive than I let on.”

“I just bet you are.” He pulled me to my feet, then crossed to the sound system.

“What are we dancing to tonight?”

“‘Tango Monologues’ by Juan María Solare.” Abe set the music going and I tried to ignore the way his thick dance tights hugged his perfectly muscled arse and cradled his package like an offering to the gods.

He turned and caught me staring and winked.

“I’m calling foul.” I waved a hand at his legs. “We’re supposed to be cooling things off. I can’t be held responsible for my cock’s behaviour if you wear that kind of shit. It’s cruel and unusual.”

He laughed and looked down at himself. “What, these old things? Never even crossed my mind.”

I stood and stretched for a minute, making sure my cropped tank—that I’d only recently taken scissors to—rode up in all the right places, and when I looked up, he was staring at my stomach with his mouth hanging open.

I tipped his chin to close it. “Very attractive.” Then I walked away while calling over my shoulder, “Come on, I haven’t got all day.”

Next thing I knew, he’d tackled me to the floor, flipped me over, and had his tongue down my throat. Not sure how it got there but I wasn’t going to complain, wrapping my legs around his waist to hold him in place. When he was done mauling me, he crawled back onto his feet, tilted his head a little snottily at me still lying on the floor, and then nodded his invitation to dance.

I snorted, biting back a laugh, and lifted my chin in return, going up on one elbow to check him out head to toe as if I found him wanting, and then gave the tiniest nod. “If I must.”

“Brat.” He reached a hand down to help me up.

“That’s Mr Brat to you.” I accepted and dusted myself off.

He opened his arms and I stepped into his frame, sliding one hand into his. He immediately yanked me tight to his chest, his warm lips against my ear, and it was so damn sexy, my cock stiffened without authorisation.

“Mmm, hold that thought,” he hummed, running his nose through my hair and canting his hips just enough to graze my dick.

I narrowed my eyes and turned my head just enough to put my forehead against his, my nose brushing his cheek. “Bastard.”

He snorted and snagged a kiss, and then... we danced.

We danced until the sweat ran slick down my back. Until the music sang in my blood and I could almost taste the tobacco and barbecue in the air. Until my heart beat an urgent thrum in my chest. Until my cock was achingly hard from the constant in and out pressure of Abe’s thigh between mine.

Fire roared in my blood, and it was so damn intoxicating. My dancing still wasn’t that great, but Abe was good enough to carry any mistakes I made. And when I messed up, I could recover. He didn’t need to spell it out as he’d done before. All I had to do was listen and let him move my body around. It was sex without the bed, without anything except the thoughts in our head, the tangle of our bodies, the heat of our breath, and the music. Always the music.

We practised different embraces and Abe spoke about the style of tango that went with each, about on and off axis and shifting my centre of balance, which was harder than it sounded. And we talked about tango culture and etiquette, things to protect the experience for everyone on the floor—not talking or teaching during a dance, never correcting your partner on the dancefloor, and how using eyes and the nod, thecabeceo, to request and accept a dance avoids anyone being obviously turned down. You simply look away.

It was beguiling, and I wanted to know more, imagining what it would feel like to dance in an actual bar where tango was the essence of the experience. And when we were done and towelling off the perspiration, Abe leaned across and cupped my cheek. “You were good tonight, really good considering the short time we’ve been doing this.”

I snorted, wriggled free, and put the towel through my hair. “You make it easy. I just follow.”

He gripped my wrist and pulled it away so he could see my face. “No.Youwere good. You let me lead and push you around, sure, and you’ve got a long way to go learning the techniques, let’s face it, but that’s not what I meant. You have a natural rhythm, Kane, and you’re starting tofeeland respond to the music. The way you look at me, the way you carry yourself, it’s beautiful. And that’s not easy with two men. Between a man and a woman, the man defaults to the more arrogant stance. But between two men, it’s more subtle and can even alternate. You’re stepping into that attitude at times. I feel it. That mix of passion and anger and humour, a to and fro between us, and it’s so sexy. I almost forget my own feet at times.”

I stared at him. “Are you serious?”

He grinned. “Of course I’m serious. And you can’t teach that. It’s either in you or it isn’t. And I have to say, it surprised me. Maybe it’s anger about the shitty things that have happened in your life or your dad. Who knows? But whatever it is, you don’t fade with it, you don’t hand it over. You grab it and throw it back, and it’s kind of amazing to have all that energy in my arms.”

My heart galloped in my throat as I stepped in close and palmed his dick, our lips only a whisper away. “Is that right?”

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