Page 65 of Love Me Darkly
She hadn’t been surprised to see him excel at the line dances, his steps crisp and precise, his timing impeccable. But when he clenched an arm around her waist, took a hand in his and moved her across the floor in dizzying dips and turns, Melody learned that Mateo was a bit of a show-off. He shocked her with a dip first, bending her until her braids nearly swept the floor before levering her back up and against him and sweeping her in a swift turn. She’d scrambled to hold onto him, feeling his shoulders shake with laughter.
“I’ve got you,” he said against her ear. “Trust me to be there for you.”
“You just want an excuse to manhandle me,” she teased.
His eyes glittered with mischief before he raised her arm and coaxed her into a little spin. “Guilty as charged. But you’ll like it.”
She did like it. Once she realized that Mateo maintained complete control, she threw herself into the music and into him. He caught her hand and spun her under his arm, once, twice, three times, sending the skirt of her dress fluttering around her legs. He reeled her back in with a sharp tug that made her fall into him, boneless and weightless. Her feet barely touched the floor as he manipulated her, lifting and twirling, hurling her this way and that. His hands never left her, possessive and dominating, pushing and pulling her the way he wanted. She clung to him and let him carry her away, clutching his shoulders, his neck, his waist.
The music began to wind down as the night went on, sweaty stomping and kicking giving way to clutching and swaying. Mateo tucked her head under his chin, their entwined hands held between them against his chest, humming the melody of Tennessee Whiskey as the world around them fell away.
Melody tipped her head up to look at him, captivated to find he was already there, eyes open and fixated on her. They were dark and fathomless in the low lighting, glittering with promise. His fingers traced a path down her spine, toying with the strings tying up the back of her dress. They were almost alone on the dance floor, only a few couples left as most of the crowd had begun melting out into the night. This moment, this night, this song, this dance … belonged to them. Melody clung to Mateo, closing her eyes and wishing it would never end.
He released her waist and used his hand to tilt her chin, then tucked a few braids behind her ear, caressing the lobe with a fingertip. “What am I going to do in the morning?” he whispered, sounding pained. “When I have to let you go?”
She went up on her tiptoes to kiss him, lifting her arms to wrap around his neck. “Don’t. Don’t let me go.”
His arms came around her, anchoring her against him. “Not tonight, baby girl. Tonight, you belong to me.”
Melody buried her face in his chest and fought back a wave of tears. She wanted to tell him that they were so far past that. No matter what happened beyond this night, Melody felt as if she would always belong to him. Regardless of who tried to buy and sell her next. Despite the visceral ache she would feel when it inevitably came time for them to part ways. Even though he could never truly belong to her in the same way. He had reached inside of her and latched onto the one part of Melody she had thought long dead. The thing that tricked her into holding on to hope.
She decided that for tonight, hope was okay. Mateo had only taken her three hours from New Orleans, but it felt as if they stood a world away, far removed from the unspeakable situation that had pushed them together. Until they had returned, she could pretend that none of it mattered.
They stayed that way, locked with each other until the music had faded away, until it became clear that The Copper Rose would be their residence for the night if they didn’t clear out. Taking her hand and her jacket over his arm, Mateo led her back out into the night. The parking lot had begun to empty, and the sounds and smells that had drawn them in had dissipated into stillness as they returned to the car. The clock read two a.m. when Mateo started the car, but Melody wasn’t the least bit tired. The exhaustion that had followed her home from work was a distant memory, and she was on pins and needles as Mateo guided the car away from the club, one arm braced casually along the back of her seat.
“Did you have fun, baby girl?”
Melody giggled. “I’ve never had a better time. And you are quite the dancer! How did you learn how to handle a partner like that?”
He chuckled. “Mari. She …”
Melody looked at him when he fell silent, eyebrows snapping together over his eyes. He was suddenly tense, his hand clenching around the leather headrest of her seat. Her heart sank at the conflict she found on his face—the grief and the guilt. It was as if someone had let the air out of a balloon, suddenly and viciously.
She rested a tentative on his thigh. “It’s okay. You should talk about her if you want. If it helps.”
He shook his head and sighed. “This night is about me and you.”
“I know. And I also know that there are parts of you that belong to her and always will. What we have is ours, but that doesn’t mean you have to pretend she didn’t exist, Mateo. If there’s a memory or a feeling and you want to share it, I want to hear it.”
His expression softened as he spared her a quick glance. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I … this is new for me. There hasn’t been anyone since Mari. Not in a real sense.”
“I understand. Finish your story.”
A little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and the tension slowly leeched from his body. “Country bars weren’t really my thing until I joined the army. I went wherever the guys went and wherever there were women. I met Mari at a bar like The Copper Rose. She was there with some friends and spent almost the entire night on the dance floor. That’s where I first spotted her.”
“Was she a good dancer?”
“So good that guys were lining up to be her next partner.”
“And you got in that line real quick, didn’t you?”
“So fucking fast,” he replied with a little chuckle. “And embarrassed the shit out of myself once it was my turn.”
“Was this before or after you told her she would be the future Mrs. Garcia?”
“Before. It was after, when she was laughing and assuring me that I hadn’t been that bad, that I grabbed her by the waist, pulled her up against me and told her I was going to need lessons so I could lead her properly for our wedding dance. She thought it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.”
“I assume you took those lessons.”
