by Eden Summers
He positioned himself in the center of the room, fighting back the nerves that made his limbs tingle. How the hell was he supposed to get through these rehearsal sessions without making a dick of himself? Red was a professional dancer. From what Leah mentioned, she was at the top of her game. And he had to try and impress her with moves he didn’t have. He had rhythm and stamina by the bucket load, he just wasn’t sure he had the ability to dance with a hard-on.
Then there was the knowledge of her accident. Knowledge which shouldn’t be taking up valuable space in his brain. He had no hope. This music video was a lost cause. But her body…Jesus Christ. He’d almost be happy to make a dick of himself for that body.
“Are you feeling OK?” she asked, frowning at him.
Shit. “Yeah, of course.” He nodded and didn’t even feel the movement because he was too numb. Then again, having parts of his anatomy dulled from sensation while in close proximity to this woman was probably a damn good thing.
“OK, so…” She strode back to the corner. “I’m going to do another basic run through of the moves, start to finish. After that, I’ll break them into sections and work on a piece at a time.”
“Uh huh.”
“Here goes.” She strode toward him, dragging the tips of her toes behind her with each step. “Leah said the set will be a hotel ballroom with a lot of space. So we’ll start by walking toward each other.”
She bridged the distance between them, coming to a stop at his feet. “The song is full of emotion, and we need to mimic that in everything we do, from the way we touch to the way we look at each other.”
She turned, resting her back into him and glancing over her shoulder. His body was on full alert, throbbing, running hot with the need to feel her body beneath his.
“First off, you’ll be the one to plant your feet, cross your arms over your chest, and fight against the pull of lust. You’re angry, and all I want to do is make you react.”
His cock already had. The more she rubbed against him, her hands drifting around his waist, her confident voice taunting him, the more he wanted to drag her to the ground and show her some moves of his own.
“In the second verse, the lyrics are about succumbing to temptation.”
“I can’t resist you. I can’t deny you. The pleasure you bring has turned to pain.”
“Yes.” She gave him a brief smile. “At that part, I’m going to walk away, and you’re going to grab my hand and pull me back into your body.”
They went through the motions, his gaze caught on her mouth and the way she moistened her lips as they came chest to chest.
“Now the fighting begins.” She shoved at his chest. “You stumble back, and then lunge for me with your hand coming intimately around my nape.”
He stepped forward, doing as instructed.
“You want to kiss me.”
No shit.
“But I’m not going to let you.”
He tightened his hold around her neck, not wanting to be denied. Red paused, her chest expanding with her rapid pants, her lips slightly parted, waiting. Pins and needles erupted under his palm. Jesus Christ, she wanted him. He wanted her. Why the hell weren’t they naked?
He inched closer, bringing their mouths a breath apart before Red blinked the daze from her eyes.
“That’s perfect.” She cleared her throat and stabilized herself with two hands on his chest, pushing away the sexual momentum he’d gained. “Now I’m going to turn.”
She did as stated, then rapidly descended to the floor in the splits. “At this point, you need to make sure your legs are parted because I’m going to slide between them.”
He shuffled his feet apart, cursing his erection to hell. “While you’re down there…”
She didn’t look up, didn’t speak, just shook her head as she leaned forward and pushed herself backward between his legs.
For a moment, he was alone. She’d disappeared behind him, leaving him standing in silence with his dick hard as stone. Less than three weeks. That’s all the time he had with her. Less than three weeks of nights like this, where the smile wouldn’t leave his face, and the discomfort wouldn’t leave his shaft.
His troubles vanished under the weight of concentration and admiration. And he realized, less than three weeks wasn’t going to be enough.
Chapter Fourteen
Melody released a ragged sigh and dragged her feet to the music system for the final time. “This is the last run through for the night.”
Her body was drained, and not nearly enough from physical exertion. Dirty thoughts had siphoned her energy. Her libido ran rings around her mind. Every time Sean touched her, she couldn’t stop her greedy heart from galloping into her throat, and the only thing keeping her grounded was the accidental glide of his hand over the scarred flesh of her thigh.
The sensation was raw, painful, and not entirely at the site of the scarring. It hurt her chest and pushed her to work harder to keep her confident persona in place. During the week, she slowly came to terms with him having to touch her in unwanted places. The first ten thousand times tonight had been a struggle, but she was improving. They were brief grazes, nothing monumental enough for him to determine the different height and texture of her skin. If anything, she should be thankful for the sharp shots of nausea it caused. It was the only thing stopping her needy hands from running through the short length of his hair and dragging him to her lips.
Even now, as she waited for the song to restart, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. His muscles bulged, and beads of sweat dotted his brow. She itched to swipe the glistening liquid with her fingers, then trail her hands lower, taking his shirt off to see if he was sweating underneath the thin cotton.
“Want me to take it off?”
“What?” She snapped from her alluring thoughts and met his smirk. All night he’d been flirting, each comment dirtier than the last. He punished her with his seduction. It was the sweetest form of torture, and she wanted to kick him in the balls for it.
“The tank,” he reiterated, reaching for the hem. “Want me to take it off?”
She rolled her eyes as he waggled his brows. That’s all she’d been doing for the last three hours—rolling her eyes because she was too cock starved to come up with a quick retort. “You actually think taking your shirt off will affect me? That’s cute. However, I’ll remind you that I’ve worked with ego-driven men like you for years. I’ve toured with Jaxon Sharpe and Hightide. Having you take your top off will only endeavor to drown me more in your stench.” She punctuated her sentence with a diva jut of her chin. “Get in position.”
She lowered her gaze to the ground, masking her satisfaction. Her entire body filled with a tingling sensation, from her toes to her lips. Not only since he walked in the door, but for every single minute since he rocked her world last week. Each night, she’d fallen asleep thinking about him. Every morning he’d been in her mind. If he exposed her to more of the muscle currently making her salivate, she’d struggle under an even bigger cloud of lust and lies.
The song began to play, for the sixteen-thousandth time, and she raised her focus to Sean’s hands gripping the hem of his tank. He’d been waiting for her to glance his way. She could see it in the calculation of his gaze.
“You sure you don’t mind?” he drawled, then raised a brow as he slowly hitched the material, exposing his abdomen. “It’s kinda hot in here.”
She cleared her throat and frowned. “It won’t faze me in the slightest.” Liar, liar, your pants would catch fire…if they weren’t so wet.
The glimpse of skin at his waist flexed as he chuckled. In a flourish, he pulled the barrier to temptation over his head and balled it in his hands. How the hell did anyone get muscles like that? His stomach couldn’t even be described as a six-pack. There were divots and mounds everywhere. At least eight, no, more if you counted the ones on the side. He was ripped. Not an ounce of fat on his thick body.
“Maybe I should ditch the pants, too.”
“Like hell,” she snapped. Enough was enough. They had work to do. She flung around, starting the song all over again. When she turned to him, he was throwing his shirt to the bench where his other belongings sat, giving her a better view of his ass…and whatever the hell was hanging from his back pocket.
“Is that my underwear?” Her tone was uncontrollably high pitched at the sight of familiar bright purple lace.
He answered with a smirk.
Oh my god. “You’ve had those in your pocket this whole time?” She stalked toward him, determined to reclaim what was hers.
“It’s my only memento from last weekend. I’ve been carrying them everywhere.”
Her mouth gaped and instantaneously her cheeks heated. Surely he was lying. Please be lying. “Sean.” She spoke in a tone filled with fake charm. “Can I please have them back?”
“What?” He frowned. “I thought you left them as a gift. You know, a keepsake of the special moment we shared.”
“Sean.” Her voice held a warning, one he’d be smart to listen to. “You left me alone in your penthouse with some creepy guy banging on the door. I didn’t have time to find them.” She enunciated every word succinctly, caught between the need to claw her nails into him for holding her underwear hostage, and another reason that involved wanting to throw him an entirely new pair.
He shrugged. “Too bad. They’re mine now.”
She growled and whacked his hip as she lunged around his body to swipe for the material hanging from his pocket. “Give them to me.”
He pivoted out of reach, sliding far enough so her fingers could barely grip his waistband.
“You know, they still smell like you,” he taunted. “Well, certain parts of you, anyway.”
The devil slipped under her skin as she charged the small distance between them. She jumped, thrusting herself against his bare chest, and held tight onto his shoulders. “Give them to me.” She clambered up his torso, throwing the top half of her body over his shoulder to reach down and yank her underwear free.
“Jesus.” He plastered a firm hand across her ass, stopping her from toppling head first to the ground as she climbed him like a jungle gym. “You’re like a tiny monkey on crack.” His hands moved to her waist, pulling her backward. “Happy now?” He met her gaze as he tugged her over his shoulder and placed her toes on the cold floorboards.
“You had my underwear,” she grated, holding his focus. The annoyance in her blood began to dilute under the pulse of something hotter and more enticing.
“You realize I was joking about taking them everywhere with me, don’t you?” One hand swept from her waist, rising to stroke a finger along her jaw. “They’ve been under my pillow the whole time, so I can hold them while I sleep.”
His lips thinned as she stood frozen, in lust and confusion, unsure whether to believe him or not. The side of his mouth twitched, the movement becoming bigger, until his chest was jolting with contained laughter.
“Not funny.” She pushed at the wall of muscle before her and masked her relief when he didn’t loosen his grip on her waist.
Sean leaned in, stealing her breath with the anticipation of his kiss. Time decelerated to slow motion. The world disappeared, and when his lips brushed hers, he sent her reeling—from flirtatious and funny, right back to the here and now where his mouth was entirely gentle and coaxing against hers. He had innumerable facets to his personality, and the more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to discover.
“Tell me you had fun last Sunday.” His words were softly spoken against her lips.
She paused, sinking under the spell of his ocean eyes while she pondered her answer. If she was going to remain nonchalant about how she felt about him, now was the time to play it cool. Yet, once she opened her mouth a breathless whisper was all that came out. “I had fun.” Pull yourself together, woman. “I’m just not the type to make something out of nothing.”
“I don’t think this is nothin’.”
Wham. Heart explosion. Lust began to tingle in her extremities, working inward. Once it reached her core, she was going to be in a world of panty-soaking trouble.
“I’m just gonna lay it out there, Red.” His focus was unwavering, his hands gently driving her desire higher even though they sat still on her waist. “I think you’re gorgeous. Spending time with you over the next few weeks isn’t going to be a hardship. But tonight, you’re giving me the impression you’re not interested in anything other than rehearsing.”
Gorgeous? Looks could be deceiving, especially when so much of her body was hidden. And the more he focused his compliments on her appearance, the more she wanted to flee. She needed to place space between them. To get him out of her head before she exposed too much of herself.
Wiggling from his hold, she stepped away. His gaze rested heavy on her back as she padded to the stereo system and turned it off. It was time to pack up and go home. To dull the lust with a cold shower. At least it would kill the burn in her lips.
“It’s not that I’m not interested.” Her voice was barely audible. “I’m just…” Her heel tapped against the floor in a frantic, nervous pace.
“I’m not your type?”
Her mouth curved as she shot him a sideways glance. “I never knew I had a type until you.”
It was true. She’d always been with lean men. Men who were clean-cut, straight laced, and…well, plain, she supposed. Sean was nothing near lean. He was big and broad, with muscles on top of muscles. He sported a five o’clock shadow that drove her to madness with the need to run her palm over the rough surface. There was nothing clean-cut, straight laced, or plain about this man.
She’d always had a savage appetite for pleasure, but the few nights with Sean, first at the party, then his penthouse, and now here, had shown her a side to attraction she’d never experienced before. He turned her blood to fire, her mind into a garbled mess of disjointed thoughts. He made her happy when she wanted to bask in self-pity. He increased her self-assurance when she’d been a pessimist for long months. And most important, he made her feel beautiful, when clearly she wasn’t.
Unlike any other man she’d been with, Sean made her nervous and invigorated, all at the same time.
“It’s just…” She sighed and worked her head in a circle to try and relieve the building tension. “My life has changed dramatically since I was last with a guy, and I don’t necessarily like the new me.”
“That’s bullshit.”
She swung around at his heated words and found his deep scowl focused on her.
“You’re gorgeous.” He approached in a menacing stride. “You’re talented.” He made her chest tighten the closer he came. “I think you’re kinda perfect.”
Her eyes began to burn. “Used to be, was, and not so much anymore.”
He frowned. “You lost me.”
She maneuvered around him, unable to withstand his scrutiny. “I used to be gorgeous. I was talented. And although I previously thought I was the shit, I’m not anymore.” Bing-bing-bing. Top score for self-deprecation. Take a bow.
“Wow.” She stopped in the middle of the dance floor and turned to face him with a smile she hoped was convincing. “I didn’t mean to get so heavy. Sorry ‘bout that.” She added a chuckle to her voice and twirled the panties around on the tip of her finger. “You ready to leave?”
He shook his head and remained in place. “Not yet.”
Her heel began to thump again, soft at first, then increasing to a rapid pace the longer he stood there staring at her, seeing parts of her she didn’t want exposed.
“I’ve had my own shit to deal with lately,” he murmured. “I was lost in my own self-pity.”
She nodded, chewing her bottom lip, loathing the deep and meaningful conversation she couldn’t
think of a way to get out of. She didn’t do deep. She especially didn’t do deep with sexy men who were practically strangers. It was wrong. It made her feel more inadequate, if that was even possible.
“I couldn’t pull myself out of it, Red. Nothing I did helped. Then you came along.”
Oh, no. She shook her head as he bridged the distance between them in a slow swagger. This was getting too heavy. She needed to leave before it became impossible to laugh off their conversation.
“Yeah, Red. You.” He grabbed her hand, entwining their fingers. “You’ve pulled my thoughts away from things I couldn’t stop repeating in my head. You’ve helped me.” His lips tilted in the sweetest thug of a smile. “Let me help you.”
She ramped her fake bravado, patting him on the chest as she beamed at him. “No, thanks. I’m good.”
He didn’t return her grin. His face was blank. Devoid of expression. “Is this about your stipulations in the bedroom the other night?”
She frowned, sliding her fingers from his grasp. “Can we not do this, please?” She strode for the door and winced when he came up behind her, placing his hands on her waist.
“You can tell me.”
“And what if I don’t want to?” She was ready to claw her way out of here.
She took a step and he pulled her back, this time holding her close to his chest, a strong arm around her stomach. His mouth hovered near her cheek, the faint graze of his stubble scraping her ear.
“You let me touch you while we were dancing. You never pointed it out because some of the moves you instructed meant I had to grip your thighs, but I noticed you wincing. Does it hurt when I touch you there? Did something happen?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, hating him for the sledgehammer he was slamming against her defenses, yet loving him just a little for his desire to help her. “It’s emotional pain, not physical,” she lied.
Christ. This was what she hated. The pathetic way she sounded made nausea pool in her stomach. She was strong. She was determined and capable and brilliant on a dance floor. This weak, needy woman was a curse on the person she’d become over her career.