Beauty Beheld
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Zariah L. Banks is a three-time award-winning contemporary romance author, most known for the first title in her Beauty is Her Name series, Beauty Beheld, and the Amazon bestselling holiday short, "Mistletowed." Her stories explore themes of self-love and emotional growth, featuring relatable characters on quests for lasting love. Fans eagerly await the release of her next book, Beauty Betrothed. When she isn’t writing, Zariah enjoys jigsaw puzzles, board games, and quality time with loved ones in Northeast Ohio, where she resides with her husband, son and daughter. For an autographed copy of her novel or to read her blogs on emotional intimacy, visit www.ZariahLBanks.com.
An excerpt from
Beauty Beheld: A Beauty Is Her Name Novel
BY ZARIAH L. BANKS
(c) 2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
We stepped into the large studio adorned with shiny hardwood floors, bright studio lights, and framed photos of salsa dancers—or at least convincing models in salsa attire. As we walked farther into the open space, an oil painting boasting bold colors caught my eye, and I paused to study it for a bit longer than the others. The muse was wearing a low-back red dress with her long, black hair pinned up into a messy bun. A red flower was tucked into her hair, and her left hip jutted out, showcasing her long leg through the side slit of her dress.
“Only thing missing is the flower,” Lennox said, slipping behind me and pushing one of the short-stemmed roses he’d given me into my hair.
His hot breath left a misty imprint on the nape of my neck, and I suppressed an inward whimper. What in the world is this man trying to do to me?
I squeezed my eyes shut and took a long deep breath. “Thank you. She’s striking.”
“She can’t hold a candle to you. Not even on her best day and your worst.”
I turned to face him, and although we were standing amidst a sea of buzzing twenty and thirty-somethings, my eyes were fixed on him. His long, lean body was clad in a starched, white dress shirt and black pinstripe slacks. His smooth skin glowed beneath the overhead lights, and his brown eyes pierced me, silently daring me to doubt my feelings for him at that moment. Despite the vibrant, colorful music, my ears only noted his slow, even breathing, contrasting the rapid pace of my quickening heartbeat.
After a few moments, he cleared his throat and asked, “Shall we?”
Not trusting my voice, I bit my lip and nodded. He took my hand and led me farther into the studio. He introduced me to his colleague, Juliana, and all I could muster was a friendly smile, a finger wave, and a breathy greeting.
“So glad you could make it, Lennox! So nice to meet you, Patience. Your hair is beautiful!”
“Thank you,” I said, “and I’m excited to be here.”
After a few moments, Juliana called the class to attention, and we all assembled around her on the dance floor.
“I want to thank you all for joining us for another introductory salsa class this evening. I see some new faces, and although I won’t call them out, please know that some of our more tenured dancers will step in and switch partners in order to expose you to a variety of styles throughout the evening. We’re going to start out with a basic warm-up exercise, then we’ll get into the instruction portion of the evening. Any requests?”
“Valió La Pena!” a lady with a dark brown angular bob, mini skirt, and legs that went on for days called out.
The crowd cheered, and Juliana replied, “You’ve got it, Carine.”
Seconds later, the lively tune filled the room, and the dancers responded with trills and catcalls. I looked around self-consciously until I felt Lennox’s hand on mine. I glanced at him and smiled just as Juliana took her place at the front of the room. Looking at all of us in the mirror, she began twisting her hips and stretching her arms out at her sides. We began stretching and doing some basic moves. I felt my nerves unwind a little and was grateful for the carefree nature of the group. It didn’t feel like we were being watched or analyzed. Everyone seemed to be there to unwind and have a great time kicking off their evening.
“Now, it’s time to begin a basic partners’ exercise. Our beginners will start off with an open hold, and our intermediates will start with crossed holds. Advancers, feel free to start with a closed or crossed hold, whichever you prefer.”
Lennox and I exchanged confused looks, and I assumed he was as unfamiliar with the terms as I was.
Juliana approached us and took Lennox’s hand. “Lennox, you are going to lead Patience with a four-count step. But it will be three steps with a pause on the fourth. Forward three, backward three like this. Step forward and shift your weight forward on your left foot. Lift up on your right foot slightly, then bring your left foot back. Once your feet are back together, you will step backward with your right foot like this. Concentrate on your hip movement … Yes, that’s it.”
I watched him mirror her movements and was impressed by how quickly he picked them up. Then I studied Juliana’s exotic hip and arm movements and wondered how mine would compare. While I watched them, a tall older gentleman with hazel eyes, salt-and-pepper hair, and a thick mustache walked up to me and took my hands without so much as a greeting. I started to say, “Excuse you,” for invading my space, but before I could protest, he was taking a sideways step, pulling me along with him.
We stepped three to the right, then three to the left, and before I knew it, he was twirling and dipping me. I didn’t know whether to haul off and slap him or thank him once I realized I was having the time of my life. He grinned at me and twirled me around again before delivering me to the next guy, who was short, diesel, and much younger. After dancing with him briefly, I realized he wasn’t as experienced as my first partner. But he had some moves, and his cologne smelled great on him. He delivered me to Lennox almost five minutes later.
Standing beside each other, we fought to catch our breath in the brief pause between songs. But once an upbeat, romantic song called “Me Liberé” by El Gran Combo De Puerto Rico came on, I forgot all about my throbbing feet and the fraying edges of my silk press. Upon the opening trumpets and harmonizing male chorus, my body came alive.
As Juliana brushed past us, she leaned in, gave me a wink, and smiled as she said, “I believe, after tonight, this will be a song you two will never forget.”
By then, I was grateful to find myself back in the arms of my handsome date. We faced each other, and he put his right hand on my hip. I placed my left hand on his right shoulder, and we began taking short, measured strides in time with the music. We were a bit shaky at first, still getting a feel for each other’s rhythm and clumsily navigating our electric physical effect on one another. But the easiness of the spirited music, the laughter of the other enthusiastic dancers surrounding us, and the mounting sexual tension between us created the perfect storm.
By the time we reached the middle of the song, I rolled my shoulders, undulated my hips, and maintained deep eye contact with him as if my life depended on it. I swayed my hips rhythmically and kept asking myself, Who the hell is this dude, and who in the world am I? Judging from the way our bodies synchronized, any bystander would have assumed we’d been attending classes for weeks. His lips parted, and his hand slid lower and lower as the male chorus chanted, “Me liberé, me liberé. Me liberé, me liberé!”
Good Lord, I’d never felt so free.
My body loosened, and I arched my back to make my ass jiggle as I kept up with his tempo to the Latin rhythm with ease. Our bodies drew closer, filling the respectful gap we’d originally placed between us. He gripped my ass as I pressed my hips against him. I thought I felt a subtle poke from him right before he spun me out for a double twirl. When he pulled me back into him, we strayed off course and began a custom slow grind. His hand caressed my backside as I gently wedged my short leg between his long ones. Yep, that was definitely a love tap I’d felt a second before, and I was serving him an open invitation to tap anything else he wanted . . . however he wanted. A trickle of sweat trailed the side of my neck before sloping between my breasts, but something told me that wasn’t his focus as he stared at my bust.
He licked his lips and released a tortured groan. The brief song concluded with a strong trumpet finish, and reality hit. I clamped my eyes in embarrassment.
“They’re all watching us, aren’t they?”
There was a momentary pause before his baritone filled my ear. “Yeah …”