One Last Dance

by Angela Stephens

  But hearing the words from his lips cut deep into her, like a poisoned blade. Cold spread over her skin, originating from her heart.

  This couldn’t be it. She’d had other plans. Even if tonight hadn’t worked, if he hadn’t come, she already had ideas for how to get him to talk to her. The determination that had seen her through those first several years of dance before she started winning competitions, had been blazing through her.

  Henry’s words were a chilly rain.

  Sophie stared at his face, every line more familiar to her than any other man’s had ever been, even though it had been only weeks since she’d first laid eyes on him. The silence of the studio around them was icy and unquiet. It reminded her of Henry saying that all the buildings he oversaw felt like tombs.

  Memories of that day in the abandoned building dropped into the pit of her stomach like blocks of wood. Just what her fire needed.

  “No.” The word exploded from her just as the blaze rekindled in her gut. Henry’s dark brows snapped down over his straight nose.

  “Sophie—”

  “No. That’s wrong, Henry. You’re wrong.” She stamped her bare foot, the slapping sound not as authoritative as she was hoping. “This... you... have brought me so much more than pain. Don’t you see?” She swept her arm at the studio. “Before you, this place was just my job. Ever since my accident, dance was something that I had lost. I did this because... after so long, what else was I supposed to do? But I had no joy in it. It... it was like I had not only lost my love, but I was being forced to teach the endless parade of lovers after me how to love him. It was torture!”

  Tears stung her eyes, slipping down her cheeks. Sophie had never admitted how deeply she’d been hurting, even to herself. Her throat was clogged with anger. Henry flinched as if her words were arrows.

  “I’m sorry,” He said, dropping his eyes. “I had no idea it was like that for you.”

  “Well, it was. And then you walk through that door and ask me to dance, and... Henry.” She crossed the distance between them in three quick strides and gripped his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. She felt as if hers must be glowing, so fierce was the fire inside her. “When I got injured, I swore to myself I would dance again. But when Christian... when my partner, the man I loved and danced with, left me, I gave up. I thought that thrill that I’d always felt in front of the crowds was lost to me forever. Until you took me in your arms.”

  He drew away from her, lashes dipping over his eyes. “I—”

  “I’m not willing to give it up again, Henry. Not again. Not because of Nicole’s jealousies, or your father’s machinations, or your business rival’s disapproval, or even because of your damn insecurities.” She fisted her hands at her sides and lifted her chin.

  “Don’t do this, Sophie. It’s not good for you.” Henry’s hands were fisted too. “I’m not good for you.” The anguish in his eyes was real. He wasn’t just saying the words. He believed them. Sophie grabbed him again, gripping his shoulders this time, as if she could force the truth of her words through his suit and into his skin.

  “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Henry Medina, and damn it, I’m not giving you up! We’ve both made mistakes, but anything worth having is worth working for... And I’m sure as hell going to work to make you see that this, what we have, is worth it. You care about me?”

  “Sophie, I...” He trailed off, shaking his head.

  She curled her fingers into his shirt, tugging. “Do you?”

  “Yes,” he ground out. “I care about you.”

  “Well, I love you. And I don’t feel like stopping.”

  She yanked him down to her, pushing up on her tiptoes, crushing his mouth with hers.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  For a moment, Henry remained still, hands at his sides. Sophie wasn’t deterred. She moved her mouth from one corner of his lips to the other, her tongue touching the seam lightly before pushing in. She licked at his teeth, pressing her breasts against the hard wall of his chest.

  She slid her hands into his hair and held him firmly as she sucked at his lower lip. Henry groaned, shifting against her. Sophie sensed him holding back and poured every ounce of her frustration and desire and, yes, love, into the kiss.

  And then his hands came up, gripping her hips tightly, and whatever dam he’d constructed against what he was feeling broke. His tongue plunged into her mouth, forceful, demanding, claiming.

  He kneaded the flesh of her hips before pushing beneath the soft cotton of her shirt, stroking up her back. His touch burned as he trailed rough fingers along her spine. Sophie gasped, dragging her mouth from his to nip at the strong line of his jaw.

  His hands molded her ribs, thumbs caressing the undersides of her breasts, then sliding around until he could cup them. He teased her nipples, bringing them to hard, throbbing peaks. Sophie arched her spine, pressing herself harder against his hand, shuddering as the fire that had been burning within her turned sweet and pulsing.

  Sophie’s mouth returned to Henry’s. She couldn’t get enough of him, the taste of his tongue, the scent of his skin, the feel of his body beneath her hands. She pushed at the suit jacket, forcing him to release her long enough to shrug it off. Their mouths never lost contact, nipping, licking.

  As if he needed to be touching her as badly as she craved him, Henry’s hands returned to her hips, sliding beneath the thin, loose material of her pants, dipping into her underwear to cup the smooth globes of her ass. He tightened his grip, lifting her against him, rocking his hips, rubbing the steely length of his erection against her belly.

  “Sophie, Christ, dolce, I need you.” His words were strangled. He pressed his forehead hard to hers, tongue touching the corner of her mouth fleetingly.

  “Henry,” she moaned. Sophie tugged at the buttons on his dress shirt, heedless in her haste, popping several off. The tiny plastic discs pinged to the floor, skittering away into the shadows.

  When her fingers finally touched warm, smooth skin, they both gasped. Sophie felt as if it had been weeks since she’d touched him last. Months. Less than a week away from him and it felt so inexorably long. She slid her fingers through the mat of his chest hair, tugging gently, curling the coarse hair around her fingers.

  Henry growled low in his throat, pushing his hips into her. Sophie’s breath caught. She trailed her hands down further, caressing the taut, ridged muscles of his belly, dipping into the well of his navel. She traced the line of muscle from his hip to his groin, her fingertips catching up in his waistband.

  “The windows,” Henry murmured, yanking the neck of her t-shirt wide to nibble her collarbone. His tongue rasped wet velvet against her throat.

  Sophie shook her head. It took her brain, drenched with love and lust in equal parts, a moment to process his words. Her eyes flicked to the huge, storefront windows and then moved back to Henry.

  “We can turn off the lights.” Her voice was breathless in the dimness. Henry shook his head, fingers stroking tantalizingly between the cheeks of her ass. Sophie shivered at the foreign touch.

  “I want to see you, Sophie.”

  Desire clenched in her gut. She bit her lip. “Shutters!” She’d almost forgotten the security shutters. She’d opened them when she came in, force of habit. It was part of her ritual whenever she opened the studio, but they would block all but the most determined peeper.

  Henry pulled his hands free of her pants and she whirled, practically running to the bank of switches on the wall that would close the shutters. She flipped them and hurried back to Henry as the whirring of the motor began, not even waiting until they were closed completely before she whipped her shirt off over her head.

  “Come here,” he commanded, arms open. His shirt hung at his elbows, doing little more than dangling from his golden cufflinks. Sophie obeyed immediately, eagerly, sliding into his warm embrace.

  The feel of his skin against hers made her breasts ache and throb. She rubbed against him like a cat, pepp
ering his chest and shoulders with kisses. Henry stroked the hair away from her face, his strong fingers curling along her jaw, and tilted her head.

  He slanted his mouth over hers, tongue teasing and demanding at the same time. Sophie kissed him back, giving him her all as her fingers worked quickly at his fly. Her pussy was wet and ready for him. She could think of nothing but taking him inside her, as deep as he could go.

  Henry stroked her shoulders, sliding the straps of her bra down her arms. He made short work of the hooks and pulled the silky garment away from her body, dropping it to the floor. Next went her yoga pants and panties, pushed down swiftly over the curves of her hips and thighs, dropping to her feet.

  Sophie whimpered in disappointment as he stepped back from her, his dark eyes hot on her naked body. “Let me see you, Sophie.”

  She dropped her hands to her sides and lifted her chin, kicking away the last of her garments to stand, completely bare, in front of him. She had already bared her heart to him, what was a little skin? Especially since it was skin he was already so intimately acquainted with.

  His big hands stroked her face and neck, gliding over her shoulders and down her arms. “Sophie, I...” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, staring into her eyes. Then his gaze dropped to her body. With a sigh, he began again.

  “I wish you could see what I see. So beautiful,” he murmured, stroking back up to her collar bone and then continuing downward over her breasts and belly. Sophie shuddered, both from the stroking, sensual touches and the heated weight of his gaze on her body. His eyes flickered from her pussy, to her face, and then over her shoulder. Henry groaned as if he were in pain and spun her around.

  Sophie gasped, her eyes widening in surprise as Henry grabbed her elbows and drew her back against the hard length of his body, pinning her against his broad chest. In the wall of mirrors opposite them, he caught her eye.

  “Look, dolce. See how gorgeous you are.”

  Sophie looked, her breath ragged in her throat. Even knowing it was her, she almost couldn’t recognize the woman she saw in the mirrors. She’d seen countless photos and videos of herself throughout her career. Studying tapes of her performances helped her improve.

  She’d always thought she was pretty, in a girl-next-door sort of way. Even occasionally beautiful, in certain angles or shots. But never this. Never sensual and... yes, gorgeous. Her head rested back against Henry’s muscled chest, the line of her throat arched, her eyes glittering and her mouth soft, wet and swollen from his kiss.

  Her hair tumbled in dark waves around her naked shoulders, framing her flushed cheeks. Henry’s grip on her elbows thrust her chest forward, the pale mounds of her breasts tipped with the taut buds of her nipples heaving with her uneven breaths. Privately, she’d always thought herself a little small up top.

  As a dancer, it had been considered beneficial, and yet it had still bothered her a little. But looking at herself now, she could see the beauty in the graceful curves of her breasts, how the line of her body flowed from shoulder, to breast, down her ribcage to the flare of her hips.

  Henry released her elbows and splayed his hands over her belly. “Do you see what I see?” His lips brushed her ear, the side of her throat. He bit the smooth skin of her shoulder gently, his strong teeth sinking in just deep enough to send a little sting along her nerve endings.

  Sophie could only nod, transfixed not only by the sight of her own body, but the fact of him behind her. Before her was a passionate, powerful woman in the arms of a passionate, powerful man. She slid her hands up his arms, slowly, enjoying the feel of the crisp hair on his forearms and the taut flex of muscle beneath his warm skin. She reached behind her, watching her own movements in the mirror as she curled her fingers into his hair.

  In the mirror she watched as Henry slid one hand up to knead her breast, his broad fingers rolling the stiff peak until she arched into the touch. His mouth touched the curve of her throat, his tongue swiping quickly before he sucked at her skin.

  When his other hand slipped down between her legs, Sophie gasped, eyes widening as he probed her slit with insistent fingers. She bit her lip, spreading her legs, giving Henry better access to her throbbing sex and watching as he caressed her wet flesh, using his fingers to open her lips and spread the slick moisture of her body up over the sensitive button of her clit.

  Pleasure spiked through her as he rubbed at the pulsing bundle of nerves. “Henry!”

  “What do you see, dolce? Tell me.” His hand dipped lower, the rough pads of his fingertips teasingly circling the entrance to her snug sheath.

  She rose onto her toes, hips bucking, trying to coax him into her body. But he just kept stroking and teasing. Two could play that game! A fierce grin split Sophie’s face as she pressed backward, pinning the heavy length of Henry’s cock between them as she undulated.

  He groaned. Sophie’s grin widened. She found his eyes in the mirror.

  “Us. I see us, Henry.”

  His eyes blazed at her words. Sophie whimpered as he withdrew his hand from between her thighs. He cupped her shoulders, jerking his chin at the mirror, at the barre before her. He stroked her shoulders with strong hands.

  “Mia dolce regazza,” he breathed into her hair. “Bend over and put your hands on the barre for me.”

  Sophie shivered, heat trickling through her veins like sweet honey. She’d fantasized about this once, back when they’d first met. How had he known?

  She took a few shaky steps forward, her whole body trembling as Henry watched her with burning embers for eyes. With her gaze on him, Sophie bent slowly forward, placing her hands on the cool wood of the ballet barre, shoulder width apart. She shifted her feet, spreading her legs wider.

  Henry’s hands clenched and unclenched. She watched in the mirror, panting, fingernails biting into the polished wood as he reached for his zipper and dragged it down. The purr of it parting was loud in the heavy silence of the studio. When he drew himself out, Sophie moaned.

  Thick and hard and dark, the round head glistening with pre-cum, Sophie had never seen anything as delicious as Henry’s cock looked right at this moment. Her whole body clenched with the desire to feel him inside her.

  It must have shown on her face, because he moved quickly into position behind her. His voice was gruff in her ear. “I can’t be slow, bella Sophie. I need you too much.”

  “I understand.” She nodded, breathless. “Please, Henry. I need you too.”

  He brushed her hair forward and touched his mouth to the nape of her neck. His left hand trailed down her arm to cover her hand, their fingers twining, while he lined his cock up with the soaked entrance to her pussy. Eyes on hers in the mirror, right hip gripped tightly in his big hand, Henry plunged into her, burying his entire hard length inside her in one swift, deep thrust.

  It was a wordless declaration, a primal claiming, and Sophie’s body clenched around him in reaction. The breath rushed from her lungs. Henry didn’t stop moving, pulling out of her almost completely before driving hard back into her.

  Sophie rocked forward onto the balls of her feet, arching her back slightly to angle her hips, to take him deeper into her silken confines. Henry cursed brokenly in Italian. Sophie whimpered as his next stroke rubbed over a tingling spot deep inside her. Her muscles strained to hold her in position, years of training and practice to hone her body paying off in a carnal and delicious way.

  “Dio! Sophie, you burn me, dolce. So sweet.” He kissed the curve of her spine as he pumped rhythmically, filling her and then retreating, his gliding thrusts powerful enough to shake her whole body. Henry’s hand slid from her hip, down her thigh. His fingers stroked her smooth skin briefly before curving around her knee and drawing her leg up, opening her wider for his delicious invasion.

  He pressed her thigh against his flexing hip. Sophie bent her knee and curled her leg around Henry’s trim waist until she could brush her toes against the straining muscles of his broad back. She squeezed him between her thigh and ca
lf, taking some of her weight off of her left leg. Henry growled.

  Sophie chuckled breathlessly at the animal twist of desire on his face. She had never been so happy to be a dancer in her life. Flexibility and muscle tone was good for more than just ballet.

  Henry’s arm snaked around her hips, his fingers once again finding the pulsing bud of her clit, and Sophie’s humor melted beneath the heated blast of pleasure that poured through her. The combination of Henry’s hot, hard length driving deep into the wet grip of her pussy and his fingers swirling around her clit had her orgasm bubbling quickly inside her.

  “Henry!”

  “Give me your mouth, dolce,” he rasped in her ear. Sophie obeyed, turning her head so that he could reach her lips with his. The kiss was primal, his tongue sliding between her lips in rhythm with his wickedly pumping cock.

  Her eyes drifted shut. She didn’t need to see anymore. She wanted only to feel all the amazing thing this wonderful man was making her feel. His words said he ‘cared’ about her, but his touch, his body said more. It said he needed her, craved her, cherished her, loved her.

  Sophie’s orgasm thundered through her with the power of a freight train. She shuddered, toes curling, hands clenching so tightly on the wood of the barre that she lost feeling in her fingers. Or, perhaps that was only because the nerves of her body were all busy conveying the overload of information from between her legs.

  Henry’s fingers kept caressing her as his cock tunneled into her slick flesh, drawing the sensations out. He murmured rough, sweet words she couldn’t understand against her lips, touching his damp mouth to her cheek, her jaw, her eyelids before returning to her mouth.

  Oh God, how she loved this man!

  “Sophie,” he groaned, wrapping his arms tightly around her and holding her against him as she clenched rhythmically around his shaft and whimpered. Had she spoken her words of love aloud? She didn’t know, didn’t care. All her attention was focused on Henry, on the place where their bodies joined.