“You up for a swivel?” he asked after a couple minutes.

A smile preceded my nod.

“Okay, and one—two—three—cha-cha—one—two—uh-huh, that’s it. Now, swivel, swivel, swivel. God, that’s sexy!” He whirled me around. “Let’s try the quarter-turn, chasse, and—oh, hot damn. You got it! See, it’s like riding a bike.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “I can’t believe I still remember this stuff.”

“I can.” Trace winked, then spun me out and tugged me back. “You always were a quick study.”

He maneuvered me into a crossover break and another spin once the end of the song neared. On the fourth pass, the music shifted to Marc Anthony’s “I Need To Know,” but Trace sustained the rotation, transitioning me to salsa so seamlessly, I didn’t miss a step. By now, I’d become an extension of his body, and oh, what a body it was. Absent a shirt, his hard muscles were on full display, rippling beneath his golden skin. I’d never seen anything more beautiful than the way he moved. He controlled himself, and me, with breathtaking ease.

We were both slick with sweat when “I Need To Know” melted into Jennifer Connelly’s evocative version of “Sway,” but I wasn’t the least bit tired. The song had a slower pace and a mesmerizing rhythm that seduced me like the Lorelei of old.

Trace did a cross body lead, spun me three more times, only to stop on a dime and dip me so low, my ponytail nearly touched the floor. He hung over me, our bodies fused together, our eyes never losing contact. His breath mingled with mine and sweat bonded our skin, giving rise to a slow burning ache within me that grew hotter by the second.

Just when I thought I’d catch fire, he drew me back up, then sank to his knees and dragged his fingers down my ribcage. I raised my arms and writhed above him while he gripped my hips, moving them from side to side.

His bewitching touch, the sexy way he danced, and the flame that ignited whenever our eyes met, all chipped away at my inhibitions.

The instant the music shifted to a melodic Josh Groban ballad, Trace rose like a coiled snake charmed from its nest. He whipped me around, gave me a sharp tug, and pressed the thickness beneath the metal teeth of his fly into my back. Even as my brain screamed at me to pull away, I’d laced the fingers of one hand with his and melted against his body. I was lost in the moment, lost in his touch, totally lost in him.

We weren’t doing salsa anymore. This was something quite different. This was…foreplay. “Yeah, just like that,” he whispered. “Now slow it down and follow my lead.”

His ‘lead’ was hard, long, and pressed firmly against my spine. Even so, I did as I was told, moving just as he moved, until the music wrapped around us so completely nothing but the dance existed. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the heat, to the drums, and to the hard body moving so sensuously against mine.

As we slowly swayed together, Trace unclipped my hair and separated the French braid, so the locks fell freely past my shoulders. He pocketed the barrette, brushed my hair aside, and snagged a leisurely whiff of my neck.

“You know,” he murmured in a husky rumble, “twelve years of bunking with animals makes a man appreciate a woman’s scent. And I love yours.” He filled his nose again. “That perfume. It’s Poison, right?”

How could he possibly know? “Yes,” I managed, trying to breathe past the elephant on my chest.

“Well,” he said, “you’d think the name alone would ward me off, but as you can see, I’m not going anywhere.” He drew me closer, shooting ripples through my body. His boldness both frightened and thrilled me. “By the way, ever heard this song?”

I wet my lips. “N-no, but I recognize the singer.”

“It’s called ‘My Confession.’” He paused. “I’ve got one. Wanna hear it?”

I shook my head hard, dreading where his ‘confession’ might lead.

“Aw, come on now. You’re braver than that.” There was a smile in his voice, but the underlying edge of masculine intent couldn’t be missed. “Remember when you accused me of stuffing folks into boxes? Well, you were right. Only problem is, the box thing doesn’t work all the time.” He turned me to face him, one hand gripping my hip, while the other forced me to meet his fiery stare. “You see, some stuff just won’t fit anymore.”

I wet my lips again. “I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

My breath shuttered when he slipped a possessive hand past my hip to palm the top of my derrière. In his silence, he dared me to object, to stop him, but I couldn’t. He’d burned all my defenses away.

“See, I shove lots of people in that box,” he said. “Just so I don’t have to think about them.” He ran a fingertip along my spine, giving me goose bumps. “Wanna guess where you are?”

My heart climbed my throat. “In the box?”

“Used to be.”

I frowned in confusion. “But—”

“Shhh.” He brushed a thumb over my lips. “You got too big for it.”

At his admission, I stopped moving altogether. My body froze, but my heart was beating double-time.

He stared, unblinking, the weight of his gaze pinning me in place. “Here’s the thing. I see you sometimes and it’s-it’s like my brain objects, but my body has other ideas. Try as I might, I can’t stay away. And you….” He paused to half-smile. “Can’t seem to stay away from me either.”

My head shook, but the denial was as hollow as a straw. The frightening truth kicked my pulse into overdrive.

“Here’s another confession.” This he whispered in my ear. “Those weeks we spent together, when I taught you to dance? I wanted you. Hell, even before then.”

I gasped in surprise.

“Yeah, I know. Big shocker.” A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, then he sighed and his warm breath stroked my cheek. “I acted like I did ‘cause I had to. I knew how you felt about me, but we—I couldn’t.” His beguiling fingers continued to blaze a path up and down my spine. “Back then, the four years between us were like dog years, but now—”

“Trace.” I slammed my lids shut as a fierce longing coiled so tight within me, I ached, but the renegade feelings frightened me. So much so, my eyes began to well. “Please.”

“Naw, this needs sayin’.” He inched back, his eyes issuing a challenge. “Admit it. You feel it just like I do.”

Oh, God, he was right. Panic spilled into me like sand through an hourglass. I shot a fleeting look at the exit. Blessed Mother, just give me the strength to leave, I prayed. Yet he’d already brushed the chiffon at my neck aside to expose my shoulder, and my hands, seemingly of their own volition, had latched onto him, pulling him close as he sucked the skin there, nursing on it. He was marking me.

A battle raged between my mind and body. His wicked touch made my breasts ache and my panties were completely drenched. Yet fear of the inevitable had my heart beating like a snare drum. If I stayed a moment longer, God only knew where this would lead, but I was powerless to resist him.

The best I could do was to plead for mercy.

“Trace.” A tear rushed down my cheek. I drew a ragged breath. “Please…let me go.”

He lifted his head, casting a worried look at the tear dangling from my chin. Capturing it with his hand, he rubbed the wetness between his fingers and slowly took one step, then two steps back, his eyes fixed on mine.

It was all the space I needed—just a second to breathe, to escape the spell he’d cast. I wasted no time tearing away. Grabbing my purse and coat, I beat a path to the exit. I was halfway out the door when he called after me.

“We’re still on for tomorrow, Shannon.” His voice was thick with promise and determination. “Five o’clock sharp. Don’t keep me waiting.”

SHANNON

____________________________

“What time is it over there?” Darien asked.

I switched the cell to my other ear. “Midnight.”