The Romance Dance: Castle Ridge Small Town Romance

by Burton, Allie

  He lowered his mouth. His lips brushed against her plump ones.

  Fireworks.

  Their first kiss had been the same, and he’d wondered if it had been the novelty of not kissing anyone in so long. It wasn’t. The fireworks exploded again, bursting in his head and igniting in his heart. He never experienced fireworks when he’d kissed his fiancée. He didn’t even remember sparks.

  These sparks electrified his system, shooting urgency through his veins. He dropped her hand and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing her closer. He wanted all of her against him.

  She moaned. Her lips opened, and his tongue darted inside. He needed to be inside her. To touch and taste and feel. His lips devoured, and his tongue danced in her mouth. His arms held her close, his hands moving across her back, wanting to stroke every inch.

  Her slender, deft fingers toyed with the top button of his flannel shirt. She unbuttoned the first, and the next, and the next. Her hands splayed over his bare skin. His heart pounded, as if her fingers connected with the pulse of his body. The imprint of her hands tattooed against his chest.

  His body flared and caught fire. She was a flame.

  A forbidden flame.

  Forbidden.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Quinn was enraptured by the kiss. A kiss so powerful and lustful and meaningful.

  Reed’s lips might be kissing her lips, but the connection sizzled to her soul.

  The way his mouth swallowed hers. The way his hands roamed her back, trying to caress every inch of her skin. The way his body thrust against hers.

  So needy. So urgent. So male.

  A shiver rocked her body. Her core pressed against his shaft, and another shiver quaked through her, a mini orgasm. She needed him, wanted him with an urgency she’d never experienced.

  Her tongue tangled with his in a dance, a tango. An intimate sashay.

  Ecstasy thrummed through her bloodstream, pumping and throbbing and making her need more desperate.

  His body stiffened. The action didn’t compute in her head. She ran her hands across his shoulders and tried to push the flannel shirt off. His lips pulled off and her mouth starved.

  “I can’t.” The torment in his tone shredded through her. Did he still have feelings for his dead fiancée?

  Her ribs tightened, piercing her chest. How was she going to win him from a dead woman? A saint in his mind.

  He yanked his hands from her body and she trembled from the loss. Pivoting away from her, his broad shoulders caved in dejection. He slumped onto the piano bench and held his head in his hands.

  Her pulse pounded, signaling her body’s desire. She wanted Reed, and she needed to convince him he wanted her, too.

  She strutted toward the piano and scooted between him sitting on the bench and the instrument at her back. Placing her hands on his arms, she leaned toward him. “Why not?”

  He raised his head. His eyes were blank, except for a shimmer around his pupils. Lust, and possibly something more. “We shouldn’t.”

  “We should.” She kept her tone light and positive, wanting to convince him to take this one step.

  He didn’t need guilt, he needed someone to help him get over his dead fiancée. He hadn’t been with anyone since her death.

  She pushed his flannel shirt off, revealing broad shoulders. He stiffened. Sliding her hand across his carved pecs, she relished the difference between soft skin and hard muscle. Her fingers itched with the need to get to know him.

  The shimmering in his gaze brightened with desire. “I want to, but—”

  “I want you.” She put the honest truth out there, exposing herself to rejection. Holding her breath, she waited for his response.

  He pushed her hand away, disgusted. “You slept with my brother.” His harsh statement was a cold slap.

  She jerked back and dropped her hands to her sides. Her skin stung and burned with temper. Irritation brewed in her stomach, while confusion twisted in her mind. Why would he think that? “No. I didn’t. Did Dax tell you we slept together?”

  Reed’s chin dropped to a disbelieving angle. “I saw his car parked outside the morning after you went skiing. He went to your apartment the night before.”

  The burning and brewing bubbled into anger. She slammed her palm against his chest, and not because she wanted to touch him. “Do you think I casually have one-night stands?”

  “I don’t know.” His bewildered and honest expression soothed. He’d seen the parked car and jumped to the wrong conclusion.

  She firmed her lips. Her glare must’ve made him rethink his positioning, because he leaned farther back and really studied her, reassessing his original judgment.

  They’d only known each other a couple of weeks. They hadn’t shared everything about their pasts. Was this the reason he’d been holding back? “Dax let me borrow his car to run errands, because my car is a stick shift and I’d sprained my ankle.”

  Reed’s jaw dropped. His expression changed from accusing to apologetic. “I’m sorry. I assumed…I should’ve asked, instead of stew—”

  She cut him off with a kiss.

  Her lips plundered his. She sank her tongue into his mouth, a miner searching for gold. She found it. Desire tap danced on her soul. She wanted more. She wanted all of him.

  Running her hands up and down his chest and abs, she couldn’t get enough. She wanted to touch his body. His hands slid up her back, cradled her head, and tousled in her hair. His mouth devoured.

  His finger skimmed along her butt, streaking heat to her core. She arched toward him, signaling her desire. She didn’t want to take it slow, she wanted him now, before he changed his mind. Her hands went for the button of his jeans, flipped it open, and ran her hands over his hard, denim-covered shaft. He wanted her, too.

  Standing, his hands spanned her waist. He picked her up and placed her on the piano. Her butt sat on the keys, creating a song of want. A song that cried out to her. His manhood pressed against her, shooting spirals of desire. He might be thinking of his dead fiancée, but for right now, for tonight, he belonged to her.

  He pushed her skirt to her waist and yanked her tights down. The fabric tore, and the noise swooshed with a frantic need. His clever fingers massaged her clit like he massaged a piano keyboard. Fluent, confident, palpitating.

  Her womanhood soaked with wetness. So ready.

  Wetness seeped between her legs. “I want you.” She wanted to be clear. She needed him to know this is what she wanted to happen, planned to happen. “There’s a condom in my purse.”

  He froze, and she hoped he wasn’t rethinking things. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.” She moaned.

  Hurrying across the studio to the counter, he grabbed her purse and fumbled through it. He came back carrying a small foil packet. Using his teeth, he ripped the packet open while his fingers continued to stroke her swollen nib. With one hand, he pushed his pants down. He was in a hurry, and so was she. Waves built inside her, as his fingers played her. Played her like a virtuoso.

  And she wanted to sing his name.

  Each stroke took her higher, closer to the edge. Her body bucked against the keys, the piano playing the rhythm of their need. Pinpoints of light glittered behind her closed eyelids. She reached for the sky.

  And found heaven.

  “Reed.” Opening her eyes, she panted.

  He was practically on top of her. His gaze blazed with his lust. His concentrated expression showed his one and only focus. “I want you.”

  “I want you now,” she demanded needing him to fill her and satisfy her.

  He plunged into her and she welcomed. His length filled her, satisfied her again. His movements were hurried and fast. There was no finesse. Only need.

  The piano keys clanged and clashed. They played like he played her.

  And inside she danced.

  * * *

  Reed couldn’t stop his fingers from picking out notes on the keyboard as he thought and agonized. What had he done?


  Quinn slept on a couple of blankets on the wooden floor beside him. He’d grabbed the blankets from the backroom right before they’d made love a second time.

  What had he done twice?

  Her angelic expression in sleep appeared quite different from her sinful expression as they’d had sex on the piano, and again on the floor. Both expressions tugged at his heart. Her slender arm was above her head and her long, blonde hair had come undone from the topknot she always wore and splayed around her face.

  A catch caught in his lungs.

  He’d promised to never open himself up to a woman again. He didn’t need to expose himself to more anguish. He didn’t want a woman he cared about to learn his faults and deficiencies. For him, the music had always come first.

  It was the main thing Elizabeth had hated. She’d come second to his music. And yet, it was because of the music she’d even cared about him. It had taken awhile for him to realize she hadn’t loved him, not the real him, she’d loved his reputation and his celebrity. She’d loved attending the galas and concerts and charity fundraisers and being by his side. She’d loved controlling the business aspect of his life, because she hadn’t controlled him. His thoughts, his emotions, his music.

  And for him, sleeping with someone meant caring. He didn’t do one-night stands. He groaned quietly. Assuming she’d slept with Dax after she’d spent the afternoon at the hospital was stupidity on his part. Quinn wasn’t the type of woman to hop in and out of bed with anyone. Everything had happened so fast. He was still in a daze.

  Reed watched in fascination, as she pulled her arm down and tucked it under her head. She appeared so innocent and sweet, sleeping on the hard floor as if a child. He should sweep her into his arms and take her to a real bed, except he didn’t want to wake her from slumber.

  He couldn’t sleep after they’d made love a second time. His body and mind were too restless. He’d pulled on his pants and moved to the piano because it called to him. Like she called to him.

  Doubts about what they’d done pummeled inside his ribcage. Had she enjoyed herself, or had he gone too fast? Had she made love with him because she’d felt sorry for him? Or because she was lonely, stranded in a mountain town during a snowstorm? Or because he’d been famous at one time?

  Reed plucked a finger onto a harsh key. He wanted to slam his hands down, but didn’t want to wake her. He wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened between them.

  His fingers padded lightly on the keyboard, picking out the tune he’d been working on since they’d met. She’d brought music back into his life, and his biggest fear was she’d take it with her when she left him. He couldn’t stop the thought from replaying in his brain.

  “I love hearing you play.” A yawn accompanied her, stretching out the last word and stoking his yearning for her.

  “You only heard me play once, and not very well.” He’d been so upset that night.

  “I’ve heard you play more.” She blushed and she looked even more angelic. “Almost every night when you play late.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the sound traveled to your apartment.” Didn’t realize he’d had an audience, even if it was up a staircase and through walls.

  Standing, she wrapped the blanket around her naked body and disappointment buzzed in his bloodstream. “It doesn’t. I open the doors and sit at the top of the stairs and listen.”

  His heart slipped like a glissando. A falling and falling and falling experience rushed in his chest. He’d had an audience all along. An audience of one who’d heard his tortured emotions played out on the piano. His feelings for her and his jealousy of his brother, his guilt about when his fiancée had died and how he could’ve done more. Should’ve done more.

  “I especially loved one piece that had such passionate power.” She appreciated his music, understood it. Understood him.

  He fisted his hands, not wanting her to know everything about him. He had too much baggage.

  He knew which piece she referred to, though. There was only one he’d poured passion and lust and desire into. The one he’d written about her. The urge to play the song for her, to watch her expression as she listened, couldn’t be denied.

  “This one?” Taking a deep breath, he placed his fingers on the keys and played the melody he was composing.

  The music flowed through his veins and his body swayed to the tune. The song was about attraction and desire. The melody brought to mind fantasies of being with Quinn.

  A fantasy come true.

  Her blanket-covered body plopped on the bench beside him. Her warmth permeated his bare arms. He wanted to cuddle beneath the blanket with her. Continuing to play, he didn’t need sheet music. He played from memory, and altered chords to suit his emotions.

  She squeezed his forearm with a gentle grasp. “You must have loved your fiancée very much.”

  His hands crashed onto the keys. The music stopped. His fingers went numb.

  His heart pounded in an off-beat rhythm. His mind went into a fugue, with crashing chords and uncompleted melodies. He racked his mind, sorting through the chaos, to find a reason why Quinn would believe the statement enough to say it twice.

  A confession warped on the tip of his tongue. He hadn’t answered her last time. If he told her, she might be disgusted with what he’d done. She’d assumed since he was engaged it was about love. Not sharing the truth wouldn’t be fair. Not to Quinn. He needed her to know the truth, to know the real him. “I didn’t love her at all.”

  Quinn rubbed her hand up and down his arms. The gesture meant to comfort incited instantaneous desire. “She was your fiancée. Of course, you loved her.”

  Quinn spoke as if that said everything. Except his relationship with Elizabeth had been complicated and twisted from the beginning. She’d discovered him and had helped his career. They were together constantly, and one thing had led to another. Everyone assumed they were a couple, including her.

  And he’d been okay with it. He was too busy to date other women. Elizabeth helped him with his scheduling, made sure his tux was cleaned, and got him to the appropriate venues. When she’d pointed at a ring she’d wanted in a store, he bought it for her. It hadn’t appeared to be an engagement ring, with its sapphire stone.

  Everyone assumed it was. Including Elizabeth. “I never proposed.”

  He’d gone along with it, taken the less-resistant path because he was busy and the music played and she was there for him.

  “Yet you were engaged?”

  “For eleven months.” Eleven agonizingly long months.

  At first it hadn’t been so bad. Things had continued as before. He worked and she scheduled. Then, she pressured him to set a date for the wedding. He would have eventually, but he’d had concerts to perform and music to write. Things were fine as they were, and he was in no hurry. As time passed, she’d become more demanding toward his colleagues, making him appear to be a diva. When it had been her demands. She started flying into rages and drinking too much.

  “I’d known I had to break it off with her for a while. She seemed desperate. Drinking too much. Taking drugs.” His gut clenched. He hadn’t seen the signs at first. Or had he been too obtuse to notice? “I didn’t want to make her health situation worse by breaking our engagement.”

  Quinn placed her hand on his thigh in a comforting gesture. “You cared for her.”

  “Yes.” Sighing, he let his emotions about Elizabeth untangle in his head. He had feelings for Elizabeth, just not those of love. He cared about her, respected her in the beginning, counted on her. They were a good, sensible couple. He’d thought this was love. “The night of the accident, I’d had enough. She’d embarrassed me in front of the symphony director, so I broke off our engagement at a major sponsor party.” His throat went dry. “She begged me to keep it quiet until after the symphony’s gala.”

  “That was five years ago.” Quinn angled her head and her brow furrowed. “The ballet performed at the gala. We might’ve met th
at night.”

  “I didn’t stay to see the ballet.” He smiled slightly, until the darkness of the night hit him like a crack of thunder.

  Elizabeth hanging on him and talking obscenely loud about money and contracts, spilling a glass of red wine on the conductor’s white tuxedo shirt, stumbling toward the bar and accosting more people in the process.

  “Elizabeth and I left the event early. I couldn’t let her drive herself home.” Grasping his head in his hands, he placed his elbows on the keyboard and the discordant notes clanged.

  Quinn grasped his chin in a firm hold and lifted his head to face her. “You were a good guy and wanted to take care of her.” It was amazing how Quinn twisted everything to make him sound good.

  “I’m no hero.” The blackness on his soul darkened. He gripped her hand. “I should’ve called an ambulance. Instead, I took her keys and planned to drive her home and leave her at her apartment.” The horror of the entire evening clashed in his head. His breath shallowed, and he found it difficult to take in air. The only thing holding him to reality was grasping Quinn’s hand. “Elizabeth tried to get in my pants while I was driving. I couldn’t control her. She grabbed the wheel by accident. I hit the gas instead of the brake.” Sweat formed on his bare back, and yet, shivers chased down his spine. He’d shared bits and pieces of the accident, but never told Quinn the full story. “We crashed.”

  “Oh, my God. That’s terrible.” Quinn wrapped her other arm around his shoulders and pressed him against her body. The comfort she provided soothed some of the pain. “And in no way your fault.”

  Her strong belief in him made him stronger, made him believe there was chance at redemption. His complete confession made his hope soar with thoughts of a future. A future with Quinn.

  * * *

  The following evening at the adult dance class, Reed couldn’t wait to hold Quinn in his arms again, even if it was only dancing. He could anticipate a different type of dance later. Her body fit snugly into him, as if she was his other half. Her warmth and goodness made him believe some of her charm would rub off on him. He enjoyed being in her presence.