Page 41 of In Step

“It’s the truth. Anyway, I’m done with thinking about him for the day. You haven’t told me why you’re here?”

There was a moment’s hesitation. “Well...” He looked suddenly nervous, something I hadn’t seen in him before, and it sparked my curiosity. “I’m here because I made something for you, and I want you to have it, tonight.”

I shot him a puzzled look. “You made something? Forme?”

Abe nodded and opened the laptop. “Now, don’t get too excited, it’s just a playlist.” He produced a small speaker from his bag, then hit a key, and sensuous strains of guitar filled the bedsit.

A tango. I bit back a smile. “You’re a very determined man, Mr Tyler.”

He shot me a sultry look that had nothing to do with dancing. “It might have been said once or twice. I just thought you might like some music to practise with. The tango doesn’t require a lot of room, after all, and if we push the furniture back, this should do nicely.”

“Practise?” My brow arched. “I thought this was aboutyoupractisingyourteaching, not my dancing.”

He shrugged. “What kind of teacher would I be if you suck as badly at the end as you did at the beginning? My reputation is at stake here.”

I rolled my eyes. “Your sweet talk could do with some work.” But the music was already working its magic.

“Just listen,” he whispered, taking a step closer and starting to sway.

But I didn’t need to be told, my eyes fluttering closed, my imagination already lost to images of a smoke-filled bar in Argentina, beautiful people seated around tiny tables, all attention locked on the couples on the floor. And yes, I might’ve done a spot of tango googling in the last few days, not that I was going to tell Abe that.

Before I knew it, the tension of the day was adrift in the haunting melody, only to be startled back to the room by the sudden warmth of Abe’s hand on mine and the tang of liniment in my nostrils. So like Judah. My eyes sprang open to find Abe’s smile just centimetres away, the closeness sending my heart into a thudding mess.

“Welcome back.” He put his lips next to my ear, his chest a flash of heat against mine, the tender skin of his cheek so close I could almost taste it with my tongue. I snapped my mouth shut just in time.

The man was killing me.

“Would you care to dance?” His breath washed hot across my ear. He stepped back, eyed me up and down, and nodded, hand extended.

Fucking hell.The look alone almost had me coming in my sweats.

It took a second to scrub that image and a few others from my brain and remember the protocol. I returned the nod. “Yes, I believe I would.”

He smiled so wide, I was lost in the sheer joy of it and missed the flick of his fingers beckoning me forward.Shit.My hand was in his before I knew it, and he pulled me out of the kitchen and into the living room. Together we moved the couch against the wall and pushed the chairs and coffee table aside, and I flicked off the heater, figuring we wouldn’t need it. Abe returned to stand in front of me, holding my gaze as the haunting strains of music rose and fell with the tide of want that flooded my veins.

How was this so fucking hot?

“Come here.” The low pitch in Abe’s voice went straight to my balls, and again he flicked his hand.

I hesitated, knowing there was no way to miss my cock doing its own little shimmy as it free-balled in my barely-there sweats. Abe’s gaze dipped and then climbed back slowly, the smile on his face never wavering, the fucker.But two could play at that game.I returned the slow once-over, drawing a sharp breath at the sight of him half-hard in his own sweats. But when my gaze made it back to his eyes, he simply smiled.

“The tango is a dance of passion, remember? And Argentinian tango is all about connection and being caught in the intensity of those emotions. And so—” He ran his lazy gaze achingly slow over me once again, then licked his lips. “—what did you expect, with you looking like that?” He smiled.

“Looking like what?” I huffed, my cheeks searing at the compliment. “I’m wearing sweats with a hole in the knee and held up by wishful thinking, an old jersey of Fox’s that’s three sizes too big, and a pair of way-too-expensive-for-me socks that would walk out of here on their own if they had a better offer.”

He cupped the side of my face. “And you look beautiful. So damn beautiful.”

I would’ve laughed if there wasn’t enough heat in his eyes to melt my toenails off, and so, instead, I gaped like a fish—attractive as that was—my chest too tight to breathe and my heart loud enough to be ticketed by noise control. Sure, guys had said I was hot, but mostly it was as they pulled me somewhere to fuck. No one had ever said I was beautiful or looked at me with anything like what was in Abe’s eyes—like I was something special, like he actually fucking cared about me.

I leaned into his hand and he softly brushed his thumb across my cheek. So sweet, so tender, and I was two seconds away from embarrassing myself by tearing up like a stupid kid. “You’re obviously crazy,” I finally managed, shifting out of his grip. “But thank you.”

“Not crazy at all.” He tipped my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “WhateveramI going to do with you?”

I shrugged, struggling to hold his gaze. “Dance with me.”

His mouth curved up in a slow smile and his arms lifted into position. “Just dance?”

No.The word was on the tip of my tongue, but I stepped into his hold and met him eye to eye. “Yes, just dance.”

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