"Teach me," she whispered, her palm sliding smoothly over his, her fingers lacing through his and pressing down tight.

The house was silent, save for the softly beating heart down the hall and the sweet, heavy breaths of a sleeping child. The waxing gibbous reflected against the patio stone outside, illuminating the living room in a lavender-grey light.

He didn't need the ghostly glow to see the blue-violet veins creeping up the length of her arm as he brought her wrist to his mouth, leaving a line of open-mouthed kisses that jolted the skin and made it throb with an electrifying current each time his tongue darted out to sample the skin.

He'd imagined her uttering the words a hundred-thousand times; it was something he'd longed for, a daydream he'd fantasized about from the first time he had held her in his arms. There were a thousand different alternatives, a million different songs that could accompany them, but what never changed was her hand grasping his, her chest pressed to his, and the burning gaze from her golden eyes.

Each time he held her in his arms it never failed to rekindle the desire, the way he could almost feel the graceful way their bodies would move together—quick, quick, slow—in time to the rhythm of the music.

He refrained from smiling, though he swore he could feel his heart tap dancing at the thoughts swirling around in his brain. It would do no good to anger her now; neither of them would get what they wanted. "What do you want to learn?" The tone of his voice was teasing, provocative, as he breathed the words against the inside of her elbow, his lips aching to taste the natural perfume of her skin.

"I don't know," she replied quietly, shuddering at the sensation, her eyes watching his lips trail over her skin. He remembered a time when she'd be blushing at the contact, but not anymore, and he could exist without it. "You're the expert," she whispered, voice breaking.

He chuckled against the crook of her arm. "I'm hardly an expert, love."

"You've got a few years' experience on me though. Let's start with something easy, slow."

Her liquid-amber eyes flitted to his again and she licked her lips before drawing the index finger of her free hand along the exposed skin just above the collar of Edward's white shirt. Her skin was satiny smooth over his, and he exhaled with a smile, his right hand digging in to her hip, drawing her closer, causing her to release a broken sigh. "How can I say no when you ask so nicely?"

With the ache of separation already throbbing in his body, he gently let her arm fall to her side as he walked over to the elaborate stereo system set into the wall of shelves. Before the faint rustling of her wrist brushing softly against the fabric on her skirt faded away, an easy, familiar melody consumed the room in its sweetness.

"Close your eyes and just listen to the rhythm," he said, hastening to rejoin her, eagerly taking her hand once again. "Do you feel it?" he whispered, slipping his arm around her, tapping the three-beat rhythm against the small of her back.

"Yes, I feel it," she breathed as he stepped closer, their bodies tantalizingly close.

"Good." He knew she would hear the smirk in his voice, but it was unavoidable as his dream began to unfold right before his very eyes. "Now, put your left hand just above my bicep."

Without opening her eyes, she slid her hand up the length of his arm, up and over the tight, hard musculature, stopping just shy of his shoulder. His own breathing sped up and he swallowed uncomfortably as he tried to maintain control. "Is this right?" she asked, a smile aching to break free from her own lips now that she knew how she was affecting him.

"Mm, yes," he fairly purred, sliding his hand up the length of her back, coming to rest under her left arm and curling around her shoulder blade. "And my hand goes here." The heel of his hand was unmistakably pressed against the side of her breast.

She bit her lip and whimpered softly as he took her right hand in his left and raised them into position. "Now, lean your left side into mine a little, and rotate your shoulders back, lifting your ribcage."

The words sounded too mechanical leaving his lips, but the effect was stunning. Her body nearly perfectly mirrored a waltzer's elegant frame. "Perfect," he sighed, appreciating the way her hip was pressed gently to his and the view her uplifted chest provided.

"Your first step will be backward with your—"

"Backward?" she interrupted, her eyes springing open.

"Yes," he chuckled before explaining the box step. "You'll catch on quickly, Bella, trust me." Though she was unfamiliar with the steps, he knew her vampire's mind would memorize the footwork with ease. Gone was the achingly adorable awkward girl who couldn't walk across a flat surface without tripping over nothing at all; an elegant young woman had taken her place.

She looked down at her feet as she took one hesitant step backward with her right foot as Edward stepped forward with his left. They stepped to the side in unison, and then Bella stepped forward as Edward retreated back.

"Perfect, Bella. Now don't look down, look over your left shoulder and try again. We're going to add a quarter turn in each box step."

He led her smoothly around the small living room, swinging and swaying to the beat of the old movie theme. The way her chest and hips were pressed against his did nothing to satiate the desire raging inside him—he was sure he would never satisfy that hunger. The fact that a dream was coming true was not lost on him either. Bella was beautiful, graceful, and a natural once she let herself go. For a brief moment he allowed himself to remember the self-conscious girl at prom, juxtaposing her with the carefree woman he married last August. Some time in between she'd realized dancing wasn't as terrible and terrifying as she'd previously thought.

Seeing the long, taut column of her neck was too much to withstand and he leaned in close, pressing his lips to the hollow beneath her ear, causing her to break the carefully constructed framework to slide her fingers into the unruly hair brushing against his collar.

The waltzing stopped completely as she sighed, tilting her neck further to give his meandering lips better access. "I love you," she breathed, dropping their outstretched hands before letting her palm rest against his cheek, turning his face upward to her lips.

He parted his lips under hers and closed his eyes as his hand slid to her waist, drawing her closer. It was in these moments that he swore she could make his still heart race once again. There was no way he could thank her for this moment. As usual, she surprised him, rendering him speechless. He could feel the love she had for him and only hoped he could convey how much he adored her in return.

"I need you," she hissed, breaking the kiss, her breath sweet and beckoning against his face.

"You don't want to learn underarm turns?" he teased, dragging a thumb across her lips.

"No," she replied, placing her hands on either side of his face, flooding his mind with a multitude of images, memories of their lovemaking—the beach, the meadow, the big white bed at the end of the hall. "I want to do a different kind of dancing."

With a smirk, he swept her up into his arms, taking her earlobe between his teeth as he made his way to their bedroom. "That kind of lesson could be arranged."