Beautiful Deep

by Jordyn White

  My heart is beating right out of my chest. God, I wish I didn’t want this so much. “You know, you really shouldn’t talk to me like this.”

  “Tell me you don’t like it, and I’ll stop.”

  “I’ve told you to stop a hundred times.”

  “No, you haven’t.”

  Now, it’s my turn to be incredulous. “Yes, I have.”

  He shakes his head. “No. You’ve said ‘we can’t’ and ‘we shouldn’t’. But you’ve never said no or told me to stop.”

  I’m staring at him, my mind running through our past interactions. It’s challenging though, because his expression is morphing into something new. Something that’s heating up my insides. I may have thought he wanted to kiss me other times, but I’ve never seen this look before. It’s not just desire, it’s determination, and I already know what happens when Mr. Rayce Rivers is determined about something.

  My whole body starts to tingle and I feel the heat rising to my cheeks.

  He comes off the counter and starts slowly coming my way, looking sexy as fuck. “I haven’t stopped, because you haven’t asked me to.”

  Uhhhh...

  “And you haven’t asked me to because you like it.”

  He’s getting awfully damned close. “I...” I swallow.

  “You can’t deny it.”

  “Uh....”

  He puts one hand on my hip. My body lights up with the electricity dancing over my skin.

  The tiny part of me that’s being reasonable is clinging to the last line we have left—at least we haven’t kissed. “You promised you wouldn’t kiss me.”

  He slides his other hand around my waist and pulls me into his arms. My hands are on his chest. Because I should push him away.

  But I don’t.

  “I promised I wouldn’t kiss you yesterday.”

  He comes closer, almost to me, the scent of aftershave on his skin.

  “And I didn’t.”

  His chest is warm and firm and his arms around me are intoxicating. He leans in. His mouth coming closer. His intention clear.

  We can’t. We can’t. Say no, Emma.

  What I say instead is this: “Rayce.”

  Instead of a reprimand, it comes out like a wish. A request. A desire.

  I tip my mouth up to meet his, and when we touch, whatever line there was between us is obliterated. Hot molten slips through my body and my bones turn to butter.

  My hands flatten against his chest, because I have to push him away and make this stop. But I’m weak. So weak. This is why I can’t trust myself.

  Because I’m kissing him back.

  Because I want it so badly. The weak side of me is trying to get all I can in the seconds before I do what I know I will. What I know I must.

  His hands cup my face, weakening my resolve. Our mouths part and his tongue sweeps against mine.

  I manage not to whimper. I exhale deep and slow as I’m lost in what would be the world’s most perfect kiss, were it not for one thing.

  Emma, you know how to walk away from the things you want. Just do it.

  God, he feels so right. Why can’t this be right?

  It was never like this with Chad. It paled in comparison. That first rushed, awkward kiss was nothing like this one. But I thought he could rescue me from the turmoil in my life like he promised he would.

  Then he turned against me, and I never saw it coming.

  Rayce is different. Everything about this is different.

  Except the fact that he could crush me as efficiently as Chad had and it would do him no harm.

  My hands grip the front of Rayce’s shirt in desperation, needing to push him away but needing to fall deeper into this kiss and into his arms.

  I want to believe that Rayce is safe.

  That he’s not going to hurt me.

  That he’s not using me or just getting his thrills with the help.

  That this feels as real to him as it does to me.

  Rayce cups my face so gently, almost lovingly, and is kissing me with such tender intention... such simmering passion. It’s deliriously intoxicating... and wrong. No matter how wonderful he’s making me feel, this has to be wrong.

  My boss. A mistake. Again.

  The reality is I’m kissing Mr. Rayce Rivers. Owner of the Paradise Rivers Resort. A powerful, unflinching man. If he turned on me, I would be helpless in every way.

  I have to stop this.

  But I can’t.

  I can’t do this again.

  But I want him so badly.

  My past is too recent not to haunt me. Chad’s words come back to me: Every now and then guys need something a little nasty on the side. Were you stupid enough to think it was anything more?

  I’d never felt so small and worthless and never saw it coming even though I should have.

  Our mouths still working together, I’m at the cliff’s edge. My shame about my past and confusion about the present solidifies into a hot mass at the base of my throat.

  At that same moment, he tightens his hold.

  Heart fluttering in panic, I break away with a hard shove against his chest. That only scoots me backwards more than it pushes him. He doesn’t even budge.

  So strong. So powerful. He could destroy me if he wanted to.

  Yet, my heart twists at the hurt expression on his face. In spite of that hurt, he seems much more concerned about me. Like he genuinely, even deeply, cares for me.

  You should know better, Emma! He kissed me and he shouldn’t have. He knew it was wrong and did it anyway. What does that say about him? About either of us?

  I never, ever should’ve taken this job. It stops now.

  “Emma...” He moves slightly as if he’s going to come and console me.

  “No—” I choke out.

  He stops instantly.

  “Don’t come any closer.”

  His hands rise into the air, that universal gesture that means I’m not going to hurt you. He even takes a step backward. “Emma...” He’s never sounded so vulnerable. He’s killing me.

  “No...” I say again, remembering now what it feels like to walk away. I forgot how much it hurt. But I’m finally doing it. I back up, unsteady on my feet.

  “Emma, wait...”

  I turn and hurry to the far counter, scooping my purse into my arms, the strap dangling. “Stay away,” I whisper, aching for both of us. “Please.”

  I rush to the door on trembling legs and actually stumble a bit. My limbs have never been so fucking uncooperative. I exit the house and flee across the darkened driveway. I duck inside the cold and empty shell of Aaron’s car, hurrying to close the door.

  I glance behind me, toward the break in the hedges.

  He hasn’t followed me.

  Come get me, that weak woman inside of me thinks. Save us from this.

  But some things cannot be saved. Not my dancing. Not my father. Not this.

  I make myself start the car. I make myself drive away from the white house on the hill vowing I will never return. I don’t slow down and I don’t look back. When I’m miles away, I’m stunned to realize that I’ve left part of my heart back there.

  I didn’t mean to give Rayce Rivers a piece of myself. I didn’t even know I had until just now.

  But it’s not the first time I’ve left a piece of myself somewhere else. It’s all for the best.

  But I have to wonder... what will be left of me if I keep this up?

  Chapter 18

  Rayce

  I hover in the kitchen, one hand gripping the counter. What did I get wrong? What did I miss? I knew she didn’t like the idea of breaking rules, but I also knew she just needed me to take us to the next step. Or I thought that’s what she needed.

  Did I do something wrong? I mean, really wrong? The thought makes me physically ill. Have I completely misread this entire situation?

  But the way she kissed me...

  It was purposeful, full of wanting and tenderness and desire. It was practically an out-
of-body experience. As I held her in my arms, I thought, I’m kissing my future wife.

  I swear to God, that was the thought running through my head.

  I’ve never felt so terrified, or so exhilarated. When I cupped her face, I wasn’t just trying to show her what I felt. I was holding on, needing her to steady me. I didn’t know I could feel anything like that. I’ve never been one to believe in fate, but kissing Emma felt like destiny.

  But I was wrong.

  I completely fucked this up. Maybe I pushed her someplace she didn’t want to go. Maybe I read everything wrong because I needed to think she wants me as much as I want her.

  I’ve never needed that from any woman.

  My heart clutches in pain at the thought that I caused her pain.

  But the way she said my name... with such longing.

  Even the way she looked at me when she said no... with such regret.

  It’s confusing. Am I just desperate to believe she wants me, too? Is that why I see it in her eyes?

  I’m still standing here in my empty kitchen, the air vibrating from her presence even though she’s gone. I’m not moving at all.

  I have no idea what to do next.

  Chapter 19

  Emma

  I didn’t think it was possible, but I think this is even worse than quitting dancing. I barely slept last night. It’s almost three in the afternoon and I haven’t showered. I’ve done little more than lie on the couch, still covered in blankets, and binge watch Orange is the New Black on my tablet.

  “What’s going on with you today?” Pierce calls from his computer.

  I don’t look at him. “Nothing.”

  His chair squeaks when he gets up, and he comes over and sits across from me. He’s watching me, clearly not accepting my ‘nothing’ as nothing.

  “Something’s going on.”

  “You’re just trying to procrastinate working on your painting,” I say flatly, not even caring if it’s harsh.

  I’ve been here long enough to learn his patterns. Every painting seems to go through a phase where he’ll dabble on it for a minute or two, then be on Facebook for an hour, then dabble on it for a minute or two, then wipe down one of his work tables, or show me trailers for the latest movies, or fuss over the weeds in his garden even when there aren’t any.

  “Yeah, probably,” he admits easily. “But something is clearly wrong.”

  I lose track of what’s going on in the episode, barely watching it. As I imagine confessing to Pierce, I’m surprised to realize I like the idea of it. It’s a lot easier than disappointing Aaron. I hit the off button on my tablet and let the screen fall onto my stomach. “Aaron was right. I shouldn’t have taken the chef job.”

  “Why,” he says slowly, giving me the side eye as if he already knows.

  “It’s...” I rub my thumb along the cool edge of the tablet, “...maybe gotten a little bit inappropriate.”

  Pierce sighs. I look at him sideways, nervous about what I’ll see. He’s leaning forward on his knees, large hands clasped in front of him. He’s all business. “Are you sleeping with him?”

  I shake my head. “He kissed me. I stopped him, but... not right away.”

  Because it was the most amazing kiss any woman has ever experienced.

  He sits back in the chair. “ Well, good for you. It’s common for women to feel like they can’t stand up for themselves when a guy tries to take advantage like that. You did good, Emma.”

  “No,” I say firmly, putting the tablet on the table and sitting up for the first time in hours. “It’s not like that. I mean he shouldn’t have done it, but he wasn’t trying to take advantage of me.”

  “You don’t have to justify his behavior.”

  “I’m not. He shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have done it. But this isn’t sexual harassment or something. We’re both attracted to each other and he knows it. If he weren’t my boss, there wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “But he is your boss.”

  “Yeah.” I sigh and lean back into the couch. “I can’t believe I let this happen again.”

  “You have to get out of this situation, Emma.”

  “I know. I’m... probably going to quit.”

  “Probably?”

  This is the other thing that’s making it more difficult than when I walked away from dance. I’m wavering.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Emma,” he says, exasperated.

  I hide my face in my hands. “It feels different with him. I’m so confused.”

  “Well, let me clear it up for you. It’s not different. He’s your boss and he should fucking know better.”

  I groan. “I know.”

  “I know you know. You wouldn’t be so obviously miserable if you didn’t know this was a mess you need to get out of right now. If he’s the kind of guy to do this—”

  My phone rings and saves me from hearing the rest of whatever he was going to say. It’s not like I haven’t thought all these things myself, but it’s bothering me to hear Pierce saying it.

  I look at the caller ID. It’s not a number I recognize.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Emma Swanson?” a heavily-accented male voice asks.

  “Yes.”

  “This is Sergei Petroff.”

  Oh my God.

  “From the Swan Pointe Dance Company.”

  “Yes, I know who you are.”

  If he’s calling to try to get me into his company, I swear to God I will hang up on him.

  “You need to come get Aaron.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “He passed out.”

  I sit straight up. “What?”

  “He’ll be fine, but he’s useless right now. He’s not to come in tomorrow, but I want him back Tuesday. That gives him two days. Make sure he’s ready.”

  I’m not one of your dancers, you know, I want to say. But his bossiness is the least of my concerns. I hop off the couch. “I’ll be right there.”

  “What’s going on?” Pierce asks as I stick my phone in my purse.

  “I don’t know. Aaron passed out. We need to go get him.”

  Pierce stands up, too. “Is he all right?”

  I grab some clean clothes from my suitcase by the couch. “Sergei he says he’s fine. He probably just got dehydrated or something.”

  I don’t say any of the other things running through my mind, because I don’t want to worry Pierce. I don’t want to worry myself either. It’s not like I’ve never seen this kind of thing before. He could just be dehydrated.

  Or it could be a sign that his food dysfunctions are worse than I’ve realized.

  I throw on some clothes and pull my hair into a hasty ponytail. As Pierce and I head down to the dance studio, I try not to let all the horrible possibilities I’m imagining get out of control. It’s difficult, but once I get down there it gets easier because I let my anger take over.

  This is why I left. Exactly why.

  I have to actually go into the building, which I haven’t done the entire time I’ve been living here. I only ever wait for Aaron at the curb. In fact, this is the first time I’ve been inside a dance studio since working in one. It’s sweltering, too. Is Sergei too cheap to turn on the fucking air conditioning?

  There’s music pouring from the classroom. My body starts humming, longing to move, but I clamp that down hard. I march down the hall, heading for the back office where we were told Aaron is lying down.

  The whole thing pisses me off. Everything about this pisses me off. Keeping my eyes straight ahead as we pass the open classroom door, my peripheral vision catches a glimpse of a familiar sight: dancers in leotards, echoed in the floor-to-ceiling mirror at the front of the room.

  Sergei, the last person I wanted to see, must have spotted us walking past because I hear him stop the class and call my name. I keep walking. Sergei angers me more than anyone.

  Less than a minute after we enter the back office to find Aaron lying on a d
ance mat, looking pale and clammy, Sergei appears at the door. He has a long face, arched nose, and thin blonde hair hanging past his shoulders. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

  I turn my back to him, heading for Aaron. “I know what you want. The answer is no.”

  He humpfs. I’ll bet he wasn’t expecting that. I don’t care.

  “Yes, I’ve heard you’re difficult,” he says with a smooth accent. My face is burning as Pierce and I kneel next to Aaron and help him slowly sit up. “You know, you would do well to remember that few people would put up with you after that stunt you pulled.”

  I know this game. I’m not playing it. “Forget it. I’m not joining your company.”

  He straightens and his face twists into a condescending knot. I can practically see the peacock feathers bristling. “Who said I wanted you?”

  “Well if you don’t want me, then we don’t have a problem.”

  Pierce and I help Aaron get up off the mat. He sways a bit and Sergei scowls. “Get him some vitamin water. It’ll help him rehydrate faster.”

  “I know what to do.”

  “Make sure it’s the sugar-free kind.”

  “Piss off,” I mumble, as we start heading for the door.

  “What?” he asks.

  I actually don’t think he heard and I’m not repeating it. With Aaron leaning on Pierce for support, I follow the two of them out of the room. As I pass by Sergei I say, “Why don’t you turn on the damned air conditioning?”

  “It’s broken.” He’s on his way back to the classroom, back erect and nose in the air.

  Then send everybody home, I want to say. But I know better. I’m sure that never occurred to anybody. I sure as hell wouldn’t have gone home over something as inconvenient as a little heat.

  Still, though I’m vaguely aware that my anger at this might be a touch out of proportion, I’m steaming all the way out of there. I’m steaming all the way home, as Pierce sits in the back with Aaron and interrogates him to determine the exact cause of his fainting spell— dehydration and heat exhaustion, he claims.