“That sounds perfect.”
“Nudge him a little with your knees and pull on the left rein to get him going.”
She did, and her eyes widened when the magnificent beast began a slow walk toward the open barn door.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m right behind you.”
“Okay.” She nervously glanced over her shoulder for a second.
Once they were out of the barn, Damien steered his horse to walk beside hers, and she felt much better being able to see him. He was so close, their legs brushed against each other’s. Their long stare acknowledged they felt the electric jolt that shot through them at the contact, but neither made any verbal comment about it.
It felt wonderful sitting on the back of such a strong yet gentle animal. Exhilaration like she had never experienced before assailed her from her high perch; it was a feeling she quickly became addicted to.
“We’ll keep to the path,” Damien instructed. After a few minutes, he asked, “How you doing?”
“Fine.” She finally allowed her face to relax into a tentative smile. “In fact, this is great.”
“It’s a one-of-a-kind feeling, isn’t it?” Happiness spread through him at her obvious enjoyment. “You’re doing great.”
“Thanks.” She laughed. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Why haven’t you ridden before?”
She shrugged. “I just never seemed to have the time.”
He wagged a finger at her. “You have to make time to enjoy life, Natasha.”
“I guess I should.” She continued without thinking, “I always have fun when I go out with you.”
He stopped his horse, and his smile echoed her sentiments. What was it about her that beckoned to him? Maybe it was the joy she exhibited in the smallest things, or her genuine innocence, or perhaps it was her willingness to go above and beyond to be the best ballerina she could. More important, maybe it was the astounding fact that she, without even trying, made him feel so much—happiness, contentment and, of course, dizzying passion.
They rode in silence for a while until the lodge wasn’t visible. All that stood in front of them were snow-covered trees and a pure blanket of white, untouched snow covering the ground.
“What’s your favorite food?” Natasha queried out of the blue.
“Lasagna,” he automatically answered. “And yours?”
“Momma’s pot roast.” She sighed appreciatively. “You’ve not lived until you taste that.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
His innocent words thrilled her. She silently hoped he would be around to experience that, and much more, with her. She knew she was in trouble, but a foray into forbidden territory had beckoned to her since meeting Damien, and it was one invitation she was having the hardest time declining.
“Favorite movie?” she asked to quiet her forbidden thoughts.
“Star Wars.” His response was quick and definitive. “That was the first movie I saw that started an epic journey that lives on until this day.” He stroked his horse’s mane. “What about you?”
“I think it would be Psycho—the original one with Anthony Perkins.”
“You’re a horror aficionado?”
“Absolutely.” She laughed. “I surprised you, didn’t I? You thought I would say I don’t have time to watch movies.”
Her mock-serious tone had him laughing too—something he did easily around her. By mutual consent, they dismounted and walked the horses through snow for a short while before tying them to a white fence. They continued to walk slowly side by side.
She glanced up at him. “Best thing to do in the snow?”
He bent down and picked up a handful of snow and began forming a ball. She held up her hands in warning and began backing away from him.
“Damien, don’t you dare throw that at me!”
“You asked.” He smiled devilishly and let the ball fly. It swooshed over her head as she ducked.
“Now you’ve done it.” She formed her own ball, belting him on his left shoulder.
Soon they were embroiled in a full-fledged snowball fight, hiding behind an occasional tree to escape being pelted. Suddenly, Damien effortlessly picked her up and unceremoniously dumped her into a mound of snow before covering her body with his. They were laughing like children, which quickly turned into groans when their lips inevitably touched as Damien thoroughly ate the clinging snow from her face and mouth, and when she shivered, switched their positions so that he was lying with his back pressed into the snow and she was lying on top of him.
Their mouths met again—this time in a kiss that should have instantaneously melted the ice in which they lay. He kissed her slowly, languidly, warming her cool lips with his, causing heat to coil within her stomach and slowly spread through her entire body, as she was pulled close against his solid frame.
His hands moved to her buttocks as his lips hardened on hers—everything suddenly forgotten, except need. Giving in to an overpowering desire to feel her naked skin, Damien hastily removed his gloves and tossed them onto the ground, exposing his hands to the cold air.
His now-bare fingers insinuated themselves underneath her jacket, slowly moving up her sides to the sides of her breasts, kneading her flesh through her lacy bra until she was groaning against his lips. Then his hands moved up her back to her neck until his fingers reached her hair, releasing it from its tidy ponytail until her soft, straight tresses tumbled down to caress his hands. He slowly ran his fingers through the silky strands, pulling her mouth closer to his as his lips slanted over hers. His tongue aggressively massaged hers before sucking it into his mouth, and dizzying desire began to flame within each of them to the point of incineration.
They kissed hungrily for a few stolen moments before he sat up and then stood with her still in his arms, mouths still clinging tight. Her mouth opened wider beneath the aggression of his as he continued to plunder and devastate. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her effortlessly back to their horses. Her fingers dug into his muscled shoulders, bracing against the emotional onslaught his skillful hands created.
When he slowly released her clinging mouth, she ran kisses over his face. “I love your face. You’re so handsome.”
“Same goes.” He bit into her earlobe.
“You think I’m handsome?” She indignantly smirked, cupping his face between her palms.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he seriously replied. “It should be a crime for a woman to be so beautiful,” he whispered before capturing her lips again.
His words caused her heart to swell in happiness until she thought it would burst free from her chest. It was then and there she knew she was fighting a losing battle trying to ignore her feelings for this man.
When their lips reluctantly parted again, they were both breathing hard. There was so much they could have said, but both thought it wiser to leave the words unspoken—for now.
“We’d better get back,” Damien suggested.
“Yes,” she softly agreed, lowering her feet to the ground.
They returned to their horses hand in hand and, once sitting in their respective saddles, made their way back to the stables in relative silence. Each was lost in deep, contemplative thoughts.
When they reached the barn about twenty minutes later, Damien helped her dismount. His hands remained on her waist, and serious eyes bore into hers. She knew what he was going to say before he uttered the words.
“About our kiss, Natasha.”
“We just got carried away.” She smiled slightly. “Right?”
He chuckled at her choice of words. “We seem to do a lot of that, don’t we?”
“Yes,” she softly agreed. “What are we going to do about it?”
“Nothing.” He released her
and took a step back. “We both know why we can’t get involved.”
“Agreed.”
That wasn’t how she felt. There was so much more she could have said—wanted to say—but didn’t. She sensed he wanted to say more too but, like her, held back.
“Why don’t you go ahead inside, and I’ll take care of the horses.”
If she stood there one second longer staring at him with those longing, unsatisfied eyes, he was going to pull her to the ground, make thorough love to her and let the consequences be damned.
“All right.” She hesitantly took a step away and turned. “Thanks for my lesson.”
He smiled slightly. “You’re welcome.”
They parted ways, and the next time they saw each other was at rehearsal, where they both acted normally as if nothing had happened between them. Yet every time she looked at him, she knew he was transported back to memories of the kisses they had shared earlier in the snow—just as she was.
* * *
Rehearsal lasted until seven forty-five that night, and after dinner everyone retired to their respective room to rest up for the 5 a.m. call in the morning. Natasha had been in her room for two hours trying to sleep. However, she was too restless; her mind insisted on replaying her scorching kisses with Damien earlier.
Finally, at eleven, she decided to go down to the rehearsal hall and work on the scene that had given her trouble today so that she would be perfect in the morning. Maybe once that was done, she would be so exhausted that her mind would stop thinking inappropriate thoughts about her boss and sleep would finally claim her.
Damien strolled into the rehearsal hall around 11:15 p.m. and frowned when he heard soft music from the ballet playing. Maybe Rachel was working late. Instead, he found Natasha dressed in navy sweats onstage dancing her heart out. A smile lit up the corners of his mouth as he silently admitted the reason for his insomnia—he had wanted to see her, but had thought better of going to her room at this late hour because he had known that course of action would have led to the forbidden pleasure he was trying so hard to resist.
“Don’t you ever rest?”
Natasha jumped at Damien’s voice and then nervously laughed. “When I sleep. What are you doing here?”
“I needed some music.” He explained his presence as he ascended the stage. “I’ve worked with lots of ballerinas, but I’ve never met one more dedicated than you.”
“Thank you.”
He stopped a short distance from her. “It’s a crime you’ve never had the opportunity to dance the lead until now.”
“It’s been hard,” she admitted. “But I believe things happen when they’re supposed to. I have my chance now, and I intend to make the most of it.”
“You’ll be brilliant.” He added with a wink, “Once I whip you into shape.”
She laughed and curtsied gracefully. “I am the clay and you are the sculptor.”
His eyes darkened at her assertion. “Really?” He walked closer and took her hand. “I like the sound of that.”
Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“Molding my clay.” He pulled her close and they began to slow dance. He added appreciatively, “My supple, soft clay.”
Her heart stopped beating for a few seconds before resuming madly. This wasn’t a good idea. She should say good-night and leave, but instead her free hand rose to his shoulder and his rested possessively on her lower back.
They stared at each other longingly before starting to dance—not ballet, but close and seductive, barely moving, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. The fingers of his free hand snaked under her top to caress her warm flesh and found, to his delight, she wasn’t wearing a bra. He watched her eyes widen and then cloud, as her breathing hitched in her throat.
He moved until he stood behind her, one arm around her waist, hand resting possessively on her flat stomach. His other hand held hers close to her side. He pressed his front to her back tightly so that she had no doubt about his desire for her. They were so close, a sheet of paper couldn’t fit between them.
The palm against her stomach rubbed down and then back up before stilling again, and he smiled slightly when he felt her tremble in response. Purposefully the hand holding hers moved until her palm was resting against his stubbly cheek, and his fingers entwined with hers, keeping her hand in place against his face.
He held her close and his warm breath caressed her, starting a sweet ache in her stomach that radiated outwards to all parts of her now-tingling body. She silently prayed that he would have mercy and release her, and at the same time she prayed he would hold her forever.
His hand snaked up her ribcage slowly to rest just beneath her left, aching breast. Her breath caught in her throat, and she bit her lower lip to hold in the moan that wanted so desperately to escape. He lowered his head and rubbed his slightly scratchy cheek against her soft one, and her eyelids drooped as white-hot desire shot through her center.
She soon realized this was a purposefully choreographed, maddening seduction, and Damien performed it flawlessly and demanded nothing less than the same from her. He never let her get very far from his hard body while he made love to her on the stage. Almost instantaneously, blind animal lust took over. She allowed herself to throw caution to the wind and respond to him the way they both wanted.
She loved being held by him—loved the way their bodies felt when pressed intimately tight. They fit so well together, as if they had been made for the sole purpose of joining; he was the perfect half that completed her. His hand slid to her inner thigh, turning her around and hooking her leg over his hip, pulling her so close against his hardness that she audibly groaned. He smiled slightly before bending her backward and rubbing his lower body sensually against hers. When he pulled her upright again, his eyes were dark with a need she was certain hers echoed.
How long they silently seduced each other she didn’t know. It seemed as endless as it was effortless. They ended close, facing each other. One hand was fastened to the back of her head, and the other was pressed against her lower back. Her arms were wound around his neck. Their lips were a hair’s breadth apart; she could feel their breath intermingling as one. She was trembling, aching, and only he could soothe the sweet pain he had created deep within her.
Did he move first, or did she? She didn’t know, but suddenly their lips touched, and it was enough to ignite a wildfire that instantly blazed out of control. They kissed hotly, feverishly before Damien slowed things down, taking his time tasting every flavor her honeyed lips and mouth had to offer. She returned the kiss, fervor for fervor, and soon was lost yet found.
Merciless desire coiled in them, intensifying agonizingly. They pressed closer as their mouths once again engaged in frenzied exploration, silently vowing to leave no crevice unexplored—completely focused on thoroughly feeding the ravenous hunger that had been growing within them since their first dance.
“I can’t take more of this torture,” Damien groaned against her ear after prying his lips from hers.
“Neither can I.” She sighed the words.
“These last weeks of behaving antiseptically around you have been agonizing.”
“They have been for me,” she agreed. “The distance between us didn’t seem to affect you, though.”
“I was pretending it didn’t.” His mouth settled in the soft skin of her neck before he lifted his head to stare at her longingly. “I thought that was best for both of us.”
“Now you don’t?” Her hands ran down his broad back. “Until you kissed me earlier today, I thought you didn’t want me.”
“Oh, I want you.” He rubbed his mouth against hers fleetingly. “I’ve tried not to want you, but I might as well have tried to stop breathing—that’s how impossible it was.”
“I feel the same way.”
They stared at e
ach other while trying to find the resolve to walk away from temptation. Neither of them was capable of exercising it this time.
“Come to my room with me before we go insane.” He arrived at a long-overdue decision. “It’s what we both need.”
Chapter 7
His heartfelt plea was all the encouragement she needed. Yes, she knew the reasons they shouldn’t let this happen, but nothing that felt this right could possibly be wrong.
“I do need you,” she finally admitted.
“Then come with me.” He held out his hand to her.
She hesitated for a second before placing her hand in his. They walked then nearly ran up the flight of stairs, quickly moving through the thankfully deserted halls until they reached his huge suite, containing a kitchen, living area and bedroom. Vaguely she made note it was decorated with heavy mahogany furniture and dark colors: chocolate brown, black and white.
Natasha turned into Damien’s arms. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“No, you shouldn’t.” His mouth nipped at hers.
“We can’t do this.” Her hands slid under his sweater, caressing his slightly hairy chest. “This is madness.”
“You’re right.” He groaned at her caresses and bit her earlobe in retaliation.
She closed her eyes briefly in ecstasy. “I…I should leave…” Her voice trailed off on a moan as he nipped at her jaw.
“Mmm-hmm,” he murmured against her throat. “You really should.”
Her hands moved up his strong arms to rest on his shoulders. She opened dazed eyes to stare into his ravenous ones.
“Damien, what are we doing?”
“Giving in to the inevitable.”
His mouth took hers. Dear Lord in heaven, she was lost. He was right; this was inevitable. It was unwise; they shouldn’t do it, but they could no more deny the wicked attraction between them than they could deny they needed oxygen to sustain their lives.
Words were forgotten as sure hands moved to her shoulders before sliding down her arms to the hem of her sweater. He slowly pulled the garment over her head. Hungry eyes feasted on the perfection of her exposed brown skin. Her hands took up residence under his sweater and she pulled it over his head, necessitating the removal of his hands from her for seconds, and then his fingertips lightly slid down the slopes of her firm, round breasts while his mouth found the pulse beating erratically at her neck before he lifted his head to fuse his lips with hers.
Our First Dance Page 8