Page 17 of To Tango, with Desire

“Wait! Stay. Zane, what the hell?” I let him feel the full force of my anger. “You don’t have the right to speak to him like that!”

“Amira,” Kade implored, “it’s okay.”

I took a step back, facing them both. “No, it’s not. We were having a good time.”

“Best first night back.” Kade winked. “But it’s time for me to go.” He kissed my cheek, ignoring the low growl from Zane, before sauntering out of the club, seemingly unfazed.

I could barely draw breath to castigate him before Zane gripped my arm, dragging me back to the depths of the club. Despite my protests, he continued until we were in a dark, secluded corner, away from curious onlookers.

I yanked my arm back, trying to keep my voice steady. How dare he chase Kade away? How dare he act like he owned the damn place?

“What the hell, Zane?”

He turned to face me, eyes hard. “You are not to dance with him again, do you hear me?” His ire threatened to burn through my cheerful mood.

“And what if I do?”

Zane clenched his jaw so tight, I thought it might crack. “Amira, you will listen to me or I—”

“Or what?”

Zane gripped my shoulders. “I mean it. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“Dealing with? Zane, you’re making no sense.”

“You need to trust me.”

“Trust you? I barely know you.”

“Amira—”

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a very public milonga surrounded by lots of men and women. I can accept or reject any number of them without getting your permission.”

“Why are you so stubborn?”

“Why are you so bossy?”

I was certain I heard him growl before he yanked me against him.

The kiss was equal parts punishment and frustration. Even though the rational part of me understood that, I couldn’t stop myself from kissing him back. He ran his hands down my shoulders, stopping to grip my hips, to draw my body flush against his. Zane demanded my acquiescence, and I refused to yield.

His groan of pleasure was an aphrodisiac; it muted my anger, feeding my desire. I wanted him just like this. Unbound. Raw. Desperate for me.

As I was for him.

His tongue stroked mine, controlled now, masterfully so. I wrapped my arms around his neck, drawing him even closer. I wanted him to use his tongue on my body, to take that mouth and press it against the most intimate part of me, like he had the first time.

My body hit the back of a door or maybe a wall—I didn’t care. He was ruthless, unrelenting, his kisses pinning me in place, reminding me of what pure pleasure felt like. He was everything I had craved in the last six months but had never found.

When we emerged, gasping for breath, I was grateful for the solid concrete at my back. I was panting, trembling, and so aroused I thought I’d die from all this yearning.

I wanted to speak, to reprimand him for taking liberties, but how could I when my nipples pressed against my dress? When my body was aching for more?

Was I that obvious? Could he feel how much I desired him?

Zane rested his forehead against mine. He cupped my face, his thumb tracing slow, meandering patterns along my overheated skin.

“Amira, please.”