Apologies for how short it is! But hopefully worth it?

"So," he said casually, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head, "How am I doing?" he asked with a grin. Ever since he had caught her dreaming the previous day, he had been acting slightly more cocky than usual.

She paused. "Your grammar is very good," she finally told him, "Excellent, actually. Hardly any errors. But…"

"But what?" he asked in a monotone voice.

"But your pronunciation needs a little work," she winced, "Just a little," she qualified.

"All right," he nodded, leaning forward again.

"Like…your d's and t's," she started, "they're not supposed to be like English. In English you say them here," she pointed to the ridge behind the teeth in her mouth, "You put your tongue there when you say them. But in Spanish, t's and d's are dentalized."

"Meaning?"

"You kind of put your tongue between your teeth. Say… diente," she instructed.

"Diente."

"No see you did the English thing," she corrected. "Say it in between the teeth."

"Thee-en-thay," he tried again.

She laughed. "Not quite. Not so much air. It's softer. Say 'thin.'"

"Delgado," he said without skipping a beat.

"No," she laughed again, "I meant in English, but that's great," she said with her eyebrows raised in approval.

"Thin."

"Ok, now say 'that.'"

"That."

"That second 'th' sound is the one you want when you say the 'd' in Spanish. Look at my mouth. Look where I put my tongue. Diente," she demonstrated.

He stared at her for a long second. The corner of his mouth raised slightly and he blinked slowly. She felt her cheeks go hot. She felt the whole room go hot. She had often been told that, along with her eyes, her full lips were her best feature. She wondered if he was thinking just that. "Diente," he tried again, his eyes locked on hers.

"Close," she cleared her throat, "Close." She looked down into her lap, afraid of the consequences of being caught in a staring contest with the Satedan. "You had the d right but the t was still a little too harsh," she nodded nervously. "Diente," she repeated one last time, her voice cracking as she looked back up at him.

She watched him form the first sound of the word, but didn't let him finish. She kept thinking about every moment during their lessons when his hand would accidentally touch hers as they turned the page of the book and the night they had danced the bachata and her recent dream and she had wanted so desperately to kiss him since he walked through her door. She finally stopped thinking and couldn't resist anymore. Leaning over in her chair and across his body, she touched her lips to his, one of her hands planted firmly on his leg. "I—I'm sorry," she stuttered, pulling away and avoiding his gaze. He wrapped his hand behind her neck and pulled her face close to his again, but didn't kiss her. He merely gave her his usual mischievous smirk. He was playing games with her and wanted her to slip up again. And for the moment, she didn't care about losing. She kissed him again.

"I knew you weren't sorry," he spoke softly against her mouth.

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