A Dance too Far

by H L Day

  I'd automatically closed my eyes when we'd started kissing. Even while our tongues dueled and my hands smoothed over the pixie's back whose name I still didn't know, I opened them, needing to see Valentin's reaction to the show he'd instigated. Where he'd stood, there was nothing but an empty space.

  I wrenched my lips away from my eager partner, his words of protest lost on someone who didn't speak Russian. I pushed him off my lap, hoping he understood enough English to recognize an apology when he heard one. After all, it wasn't his fault that he'd gotten caught up in whatever it was that was happening between Valentin and me.

  Glenn floated into my field of vision. I clambered to my feet and grabbed his arm. "Which way did Valentin go? He was here a minute ago."

  He shook his head, and I walked away before the rapidly growing smile on his face could turn into a full-on “I told you so” expression. The Russian pixie stared at me balefully as I left the room and went in search of Valentin. Nobody made any move to stop me as I flung open any door I came across. I'd already checked the kitchen, bathroom, and one bedroom with no success, finding more party guests scattered around the apartment. Could he have left? I was down to the last two doors, and the first turned out to be a cupboard. I pushed the last one open, finding another bedroom and breathing a sigh of relief when I spotted the lone figure by the window.

  I let the door close behind me and, for some reason, locked it. Maybe I was trying to slow any possible escape attempt from Valentin. He had to have heard me come in, but he didn't offer any acknowledgment. He may as well have been a statue. "What was that?"

  He twisted around slightly. "What was what?"

  "You, throwing one of your friends at me?" I crossed the room to stand in front of him, his gaze finally meeting mine while my own unwittingly strayed to his lips. Those were the lips I wanted to kiss. The ones I dreamed about. The ones that were completely unattainable.

  One eyebrow arched. "Hardly throwing, Max. He likes you. I thought it would be good for both of you. He doesn't speak English, but I thought there were other ways you could communicate. He didn't exactly need a lot of encouragement. I told him you looked lonely and that I thought you would appreciate some company. The rest was his idea."

  I crossed my arms and attempted to stare him down. He didn't so much as flinch. "And that's what you normally do when someone gets too close to you, is it? You throw some distraction their way?" His chin lifted, and I got in there first. "Oh no, you don't. Know this, Valentin"—I made sure to put extra emphasis on his name—"whatever cruel, cutting comment you're about to come out with will not make me leave this room. You've already told me to kill myself with alcohol, which"—I held my arms out to the side—"has clearly had zero effect because I didn't run away from the party, crying. So you can say whatever you want. It won't make me leave because I see you now. I see who you really are behind that mask you wear."

  His mouth closed without so much as a sound escaping.

  I smiled. "Oh my God! I've managed to silence the mighty Valentin. No cutting comments. No mockery. Nothing. Whatever will we talk about now?" His lips twitched. It was just the tiniest of micro-expressions, but I still saw it. "And he might even smile." I reached out, grasping the nape of his neck and tugging him closer, our eyes locked together. "I don't want some random dancer whose name I don't even know. I want you."

  "Andrei."

  "What?"

  Valentin reached up, his fingers curling around my wrist as he used the grip to pull my fingers from his neck. "The random dancer, as you so casually called him, is Andrei. He's a very nice boy."

  I stepped closer, my breath feathering over his face as we reached the point where our bodies were almost touching. "I don't want a boy. I want a man."

  He shook his head. "If Dmitry finds out—"

  "He's not here. You said you gave your..." I couldn't think of a suitable word to describe them, now that I knew their true purpose in Valentin's life, so I left it hanging. "No one knows you're here, right?" I slid my arms around his waist, the skin of his neck warm against my lips, his pulse beating rapidly beneath the surface.

  His hands came up to grasp my biceps. "They'll come looking. If they find us together—"

  "I locked the door."

  I felt his exhalation against my cheek. I gave him time to think, not wanting to rush him into making a decision, our bodies plastered together. His voice sounded husky in my ear. "One last time, maybe."

  "One last time." The words were an echo of his, but even I was surprised by the note of longing in it. "Can I kiss you?"

  "No."

  "Why not?" He made a halfhearted attempt to pull away, but I didn't allow it, holding his body still against mine and enjoying the warmth leaching out of it.

  He sighed. "You ask too many questions. Do you want to talk, or do you want to fuck?"

  Both. I didn't say that though. It wasn't what he wanted to hear. I inclined my head toward the bed, hoping whoever's room this was wouldn't mind. "We should do it on the bed. We've only ever managed a wall, a chair, and the floor."

  He pulled back enough to look me in the face, the familiar smirk appearing. "You're so vanilla, Max Farley. I give you a bit of excitement in your life, and you yearn for a bed. To be like everyone else in the world. Where's your sense of adventure?"

  I shoved him, enjoying the shock on his face as he tumbled backward onto the bed, looking less graceful than I'd ever seen him before, his limbs sprawling in all directions. I pulled my wallet out of my pocket, extracted the three condoms, and dropped them on the bed next to him.

  His head turned to the side, giving them a cursory glance. "I knew you carried three. Am I meant to make a choice?"

  "No." I crawled onto the bed, running my hands along the jean-clad thighs before pushing them apart and insinuating myself between them. "We're going to use all three."

  He laughed. "Oh, Max! I call you vanilla, and you think you have to prove your manhood."

  I ignored him, reaching down and tugging his T-shirt over his head before lowering my mouth to his collarbone. I might not be able to kiss him on the lips, but it was way overdue that I finally got to kiss and touch the rest of his body. Twice he'd manipulated me into a quick fuck and nothing more. This time, he was going to learn that I wasn't so easily swayed. "Not proving anything. I'm going to enjoy myself. And while I'm enjoying myself, you will too. That's a promise."

  I felt a light touch on the back of my head as if he'd reached for my hair and then thought better of it. I licked and sucked my way over his chest, my teeth grazing a nipple and my tongue darting out to taste it.

  This time his fingers did tangle in my hair. He tugged my head away from his chest so that I had no choice but to look up into his face, at least if I didn't want to lose a chunk of hair. "If we're doing this, we need to be quick. Before Mikhail and Igor discover where I am."

  I propped myself up on one elbow, unable to hide my smile. He was so predictable. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? If I just flipped you over and fucked you. Then you can imagine that I've gotten what I wanted, and you can get rid of me." Hazel eyes slid away from mine. My smile grew wider as he made no effort to try and deny it. I definitely had him worked out. "You're very quiet tonight." This time I got a glare. I didn't care. I was too busy stripping the lower half of his body until he lay naked on the bed.

  It took mere seconds for me to add my clothes to the pile I'd created next to the bed. I eased myself back into the space between his thighs, lifting the taut muscles of his calves and draping them over my thighs to bring our bodies closer together. I risked a glance at Valentin's face, his silence beginning to give me second thoughts about the way I was handling him, only to find his gaze centered on my erect cock. "What's Russian for cock?"

  He rolled his eyes but answered anyway. "Khui."

  "Do you like my khui?"

  "It's acceptable."

  "Acceptable!" I tried to mimic the exact way he'd said the word.

  He slid his hands b
ehind his head, his face showing clear disgust. "Your Russian accent is appalling."

  I grinned. "I'll work on it."

  "Please do."

  I let my gaze travel slowly down his body from the bulging muscles of his arms to the beauty of his hard cock resting on the taut abdomen. "I know I've said this before, but you truly have an amazing body."

  "You should put your acceptable khui inside it."

  "Not yet." I tamped down on the dizzying wave of lust and desire that made me want to do exactly that. I wanted to take him fast and hard. But we'd been there, done that. Twice. I wanted something different. I wanted to try and break through that steely facade he affected, even if it was only for a moment. I wanted a glimpse of the real Valentin. Something that would convince me once and for all that there was more between us than he let on. I realized he was watching my expression closely, his eyes narrowed as if he too was trying to work something out. I doubted though whether it was the same thing. "What?"

  He cocked his head to the side. "You know why you think you want a relationship with me, don't you?"

  I went still. "I never said I wanted a relationship with you." Was that what I wanted? I'd had one relationship in my life, many years before. And to say it had ended badly would have been a gross understatement. I'd vowed never to go there again. It wasn't worth it. Yet there was no denying the fact that I couldn't get enough of the gorgeous Russian man naked in front of me. I never saw the same guy twice, but there we were about to have sex for the third time. And I knew that despite saying it was the last time, I'd want more. I'd always want more when it came to Valentin.

  "But you do."

  I let my fingers dance across the skin of his torso, tracing the bumps and hollows and mapping them as I tried to decide on the best answer. "Let's say for the sake of argument that you were right." Even saying it, made me feel strangely light-headed. "What's this amazing theory of yours?"

  Valentin propped himself up and reached for a condom packet. He tore it open with his teeth and rolled it down onto my cock, knowing that I was so intent on waiting for the answer to my question that I wouldn't protest. Yet again, he was managing to make things move much faster than I wanted them to.

  "Valentin?" He passed across the packet of lube and waited until I'd smoothed a generous amount down the length of my cock. "Tell me."

  He lay back again, shuffling down the bed until he could position his legs over my thighs again and tipped his hips up invitingly. "I'll tell you when you're inside me."

  My hands automatically moved to his hips, all my good intentions about foreplay going right out of the window. There was nothing left except the desire to do exactly as he asked, at the same time as getting an answer to the question.

  I pulled him further onto my lap, the lubed head of my cock notching perfectly against his hole. I pushed forward, watching his teeth bite into his lip as he fought to accept me. There was a momentary hesitation, then a clear effort on his part to relax, and then in one long, smooth slide, we were joined. I slid my hands up his chest, my fingers stroking his nipples as both of us breathed raggedly. "Tell me now."

  He smirked. "Your subconscious allows you to believe you want a relationship with me because you know it's not possible. If you actually thought for one minute it was, you'd be going into panic mode. I probably wouldn't see you for dust."

  My fingers trembled on his thighs. Was he right? Did I only want him so much because I couldn't have him? If he'd turned to me on that first day in the dressing room and asked me out on a date rather than mocking me, would I have lost interest? Would I have turned him down? There was a twisted truth to what he was saying, but I was having real trouble picturing it. Did that mean he was wrong?

  "Poor Max."

  My eyes flicked back to his. All the time I'd been trying to think it through, he'd been watching. "You drive me absolutely crazy."

  "I know." There was no apology in his eyes, no regret for sending my head into a spin. Was this another one of his games, or was he simply trying to prove to me that everything I felt for him wasn't real?

  I closed my eyes, trying to clear my head and trying to ignore the throbbing of my cock as it reminded me that it was buried to the hilt in Valentin's tight ass. All of our previous meetings flashed through my mind, snippets of conversations, the expression Valentin had worn when he'd first noticed me at Dmitry's party, the phone conversation where he'd been honest, and suddenly it all became clear. I opened my eyes and smiled. "You're wrong! You want to believe that so that when you tell me yet again that there's no future for us, you can believe that there never was anyway. You're trying to make yourself feel better for pushing me away."

  Valentin's face registered surprise, and I knew I'd hit the nail on the head. He wasn't used to someone seeing through his manipulations. He opened his mouth to say something, and I laid a finger over his lips. "Not now. After. We'll talk more after." I came down on top of him, plastering our chests together and fastening my lips on any part of his skin I could reach while my hips began to move in earnest.

  He'd set out to convince me that he meant nothing to me, and it had backfired. Instead he'd done the opposite. I, Max Farley, the man who didn't do relationships, was falling for a cold, enigmatic Russian ballet dancer who was an expert at giving the impression that he didn't give a fuck. Well, he could take that not giving a fuck, and he could moan for me like he actually did. That became my sole aim for the next few moments. Each gasp, each moan, each time he dug his fingers into my skin or gasped out my name became one more piece of evidence that he felt exactly the same way I did. He couldn't be cold when his skin burned so hot beneath my touch.

  I sat back on my heels, dragging his boneless body on top of me and sliding back in, in one smooth stroke, my hands gripping the muscles in his back. We'd fucked like this on the chair. But this was nothing like that time. In the hotel room, he'd still been in charge, any real emotions hidden behind that cool facade of his. Here, with him flushed and moaning, his gasps loud in my ear, and his body moving against mine without perfect synchronicity—just wild and hungry and desperate—I felt as if I was meeting the real Valentin for the first time.

  I was on the verge of coming, but I fought it, wanting to hold on to the moment for that bit longer, knowing that once we were done, he'd retreat to the cool, calm persona that was his defense against the world. He bit my shoulder as he came, the brief spark of pain triggering a headlong rush into my orgasm. For a moment, we clung together, his head resting on my shoulder. It was more intimacy than I'd had with anyone since I was seventeen, and I loved it. I breathed in the scent of his hair, memorized the feel of his skin against mine, dreamed of a scenario where I could have this all the time.

  Then he was climbing off and reaching for a cigarette in the pocket of his jeans. By the time he'd lit it and leaned back against the headboard, smoking it, it was like looking at a completely different person. I got rid of the condom, sparing a thought for how the inhabitant of the room would feel about someone using their bed for sex and leaving the evidence behind in their bin. I stretched out beside Valentin on the bed, both of us still naked. "I know you like me."

  He flinched. "It doesn't matter whether I do or not."

  "Dmitry?"

  He nodded but didn't say more.

  "He really controls your life to the point where you can't be with someone? Maybe if you talked to him... tried to explain."

  "It's complicated. You wouldn't understand."

  I bit down on the frustration I was feeling, knowing that it would only serve to push him further away. "Then make me understand. Are you saying you're not even allowed to have sex with someone of your choosing?"

  "I can have sex."

  "So what's the problem?"

  He examined the cigarette, turning it around and around as if there was something particularly interesting about it. "Just not with the same person. Dmitry doesn't like me to have... attachments."

  Dmitry this. Dmitry that! I was beginni
ng to be sick of the sound of the man's name. Valentin was a person, not a possession. It made no sense that he could control a person's life to the extent that he apparently was. I shifted my body to face Valentin, but he continued to stare straight ahead. "Okay. Let's say for the sake of argument that we ignore Dmitry. I mean... what's he going to do to me..." I let out a sound halfway between a snort and a laugh. "...kill me?"

  Valentin's head turned slowly my way, the truth written all over his face. I stared at him, suddenly bereft of saliva, my heart rate almost doubling. I thought about the man I'd met, the way he'd plied me with expensive whiskey, called me his friend, and apologized for the heavy-handedness of his hired thugs. Then I thought about the fact that he held parties where rich, old men groped and presumably did a lot more to young men. "Really?"

  Valentin took a long drag of his cigarette. "Do not underestimate how dangerous he can be."

  We both froze as voices sounded directly outside the bedroom door. They grew louder before fading again, and we both relaxed when we realized it was just someone walking by.

  Valentin smiled, but it carried a great deal of sadness. "That feeling. That moment of panic you had there, Max. Remember that. Because if that had been Dmitry, I wouldn't have been able to protect you. And three times with the same person is way beyond what Dmitry would ever class as being acceptable."

  "Three times? But he doesn't know about the hotel room, does he?"

  Valentin leaned his head back against the headboard, the cigarette almost down to the filter. "He knows. He wouldn't have invited you to the party based on the dressing room alone."

  "How? There was only the two of us there."

  He stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray by the bed, his shoulders lifting into a shrug. "He may have already been suspicious of the fact that I told him to take Igor with him when he was only intending to take Mikhail. He probably talked to the concierge or asked to see the CCTV. He is nothing but thorough."

  I thought about what he'd said. "So why invite me there? If you knew how risky it was?"