The Love Triangle on the kizomba dance floor

The Kizomba festival in Lisbon was electric, the air thick with the heady scent of sweat and perfume, the music a pulsing heartbeat, echoed in her veins. Ana stepped into the crowd, her body already humming with anticipation. She had come to dance, to lose herself in the rhythm, but the moment she saw him, all her carefully constructed walls began to crumble.

Marco.
He moved like a predator, his body a masterpiece of grace and power, his every step a promise of pleasure. And he wasn’t alone. Sofia, with her cascading curls and predatory smile, was wrapped around him, her hands possessive, her eyes daring anyone to challenge her claim. Ana’s stomach twisted, a sharp pang of jealousy cutting through her. She had tasted Marco’s passion once, and the memory still burned in her dreams.

But tonight, she told herself, she would not be his plaything. She would not let him see how much he still affected her.
The music shifted, a sultry melody that wrapped around her like a lover’s embrace. A stranger approached, his dark eyes gleaming with interest. “Dance with me,” he said, his voice low and inviting.

Ana hesitated, then nodded. His name was Luis, and his hands were warm and sure as they guided her across the floor. For a moment, she let herself forget about Marco, let herself sink into the rhythm, into the heat of Luis’s body against hers. But then she felt it—the weight of Marco’s gaze, heavy and unrelenting.

She glanced over Luis’s shoulder and saw him watching her, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t name. Sofia noticed too, her lips curling into a smirk as she leaned closer to Marco, her fingers trailing possessively down his chest.

Ana’s jaw tightened. She wouldn’t let them ruin her night.

The next song was slower, more intimate, the kind of music that made lovers out of strangers. Ana felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to find Marco standing there, his expression unreadable.

“Dance with me,” he said, his voice a command, not a request.

Ana’s heart raced as she took his hand, her body betraying her even as her mind screamed warnings. The moment they touched, it was as if no time had passed. His body pressed against hers, his heat searing through the thin fabric of her dress. His breath was warm against her ear as he whispered, “I’ve missed this.” Her traitorous body responded, her pulse quickening, her skin tingling where his hands roamed. And when i saw them at the end of the night they were heading into a hotel room...