Dances with Monsters

by D. C. Ruins

  Heath glanced both ways before crossing the street. The Benedum was to their left and there were scores of people walking up and into it. Drew looked up at him like he'd lost his mind.

  "What are we doing?" she asked in utter confusion.

  Heath stopped on the sidewalk and looked up at the brightly lit marquee with "Giselle" on it in huge black letters. He turned and smiled down at Drew as understanding began to dawn in her eyes.

  "Did I say a movie?" he asked casually. He shook his head. "Sorry. I meant a ballet."

  Her mouth fell open in surprise and she turned her eyes up toward him, their warm chocolate brown depths filled with wonder and gratitude. She sighed before a slow, sweet smile spread across her face and shadows creased her cheeks deeply where her dimples were on full display.

  He couldn't help himself. He leaned down and brushed one of them with his lips. "Showtime," he murmured against her skin. He pulled away, looking into her still smiling face. She was shaking her head slightly and seemed unable to come up with anything to say, but the look on her face said enough. He took her hand in his, feeling hers give his a tight squeeze, and led her inside the theater.

  Chapter Twenty

  Although Heath would rather have died than ever admit it, he actually ended up enjoying the performance of Giselle. Now that he knew what the story was about, he could follow the events and appreciate the interpretation by this particular ballet company. And since he appreciated Drew's dance ability, he could also appreciate the athleticism of the dancers, the fluidity of their movements, and their overall balance, coordination, and grace.

  He groaned inwardly and had to laugh at himself as he thought about what Connor, Rex, Jameson, his father, even Joaquin or any of his Marines would say if they knew he'd gone to a ballet. He'd never hear the end of it, but screw it. He sort of liked it. He cast a sidelong glance at Drew.

  He especially liked watching her enjoy it.

  When they'd taken their seats, he'd realized that she still hadn't said anything, but she hadn't been able to stop smiling either. He'd turned to her to ask if everything was ok, and before he could get a word out, he felt her hand slide gently to the back of his neck as she brought her lips against his in a sweet little kiss. When she'd pulled away, she'd whispered, "Thank you." He couldn't do anything but sit still as she'd wrapped both of her hands around the arm that was nearest to her and leaned her head on his shoulder. He'd murmured back a "you're welcome" and accidentally ignored the first several minutes of the start of the performance as he'd inhaled her scent, enjoyed her body heat and lightly touched the locks of silky hair that fell across the front of his arm and chest.

  She hadn't moved much during the performance, except to lift her head at particularly dramatic moments. Watching her enjoy the show was like watching a show in and of itself—a private show, just for him. Her eyes would widen at times, and be heavy-lidded at others; her full lips would part, the corners occasionally pulling into involuntary smiles. She would bite at her bottom lip, then purse them, then sigh contentedly before starting all over again. Though the theater was dark, he could see the lights from the stage reflected in her large eyes, sparkling with appreciation and happiness. Her head would sway slightly from side to side in time with the music and sometimes she would close her eyes. In those moments, he knew she was onstage herself, dancing the part of the lovelorn Giselle, leaping and turning across the stage on her toes in a beautiful sparkling costume.

  Watching her in a state of happiness and contentment he'd never seen before made his heart tug in a funny little way. Although he'd been struck earlier in the evening by how lovely he thought she looked, it was nothing as compared to how she looked now. In this moment, she had never been so beautiful to him and it had nothing to do with her appearance.

  When the ballet ended, Drew rose to her feet along with everyone else in the theater to give the cast a standing ovation. Heath stood up with her and watched as the dancers each had a moment to be recognized. The decibel level in the room rose shatteringly when the dancers that danced the roles of Giselle and her lover, Albrect each stepped forward to bow gracefully and graciously to the audience. Drew seemed to clap even harder, and even Heath had to admit, with his low-level knowledge of dance, that they had been spectacular.

  When they had finally made their way through the seething crowd in the lobby and back out into the dark, chilly night, they strolled along casually, their arms brushing against each other's as they walked. Finally Heath looked over at Drew.

  "Did you have a good time?" he asked softly. In reply, Drew smiled at her shoes before meeting his gaze.

  "I can't even begin to describe how much I enjoyed myself," she answered sincerely. She stopped walking and so did Heath. He looked at her curiously. She stepped toward him and slipped her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his chest. Automatically, his arms wrapped around her and he stroked her back idly. After a moment she pulled away slightly and looked up at him.

  "That was probably the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me," she said softly. "You bought those tickets a couple weeks ago, the same day they went on sale. Before we talked because by the time we did, they were sold out. How did you know?"

  "I wish I could take all the credit," he admitted. "But your girl Bunz sort of hinted that it was your favorite ballet and that you were pretty sad when you didn't think you'd be able to go."

  "Ah, Bunz," Drew said, chuckling. "Still, you didn't have to do anything about it but you did it anyway, just to make me happy." Her arms squeezed him slightly.

  "Hope I was successful," Heath said, stroking the ends of her hair. "In keeping with the theme of the evening, and all."

  "Very successful," Drew answered. She pressed herself up on her toes a little bit, not having to reach as far as she usually did because she was in heels, and brushed her lips to his cheek and chin. When he tilted his face down a little, she gave him another sweet kiss on his lips. He felt immensely pleased with himself that his little scheme had gone to plan, and that he'd been able to make her so happy. He realized that was a job that he could definitely get used to.

  "Well," he said lightly, rubbing her arms. "It's after ten-thirty on a school night. I'd better get you home."

  She nodded and they continued down the street toward the parking garage. She hugged his arm and leaned against him. He was pleased at how comfortable she seemed around him now, and how affectionate she was being. He especially appreciated it knowing her history, and that affection from her came with a certain level of trust in him.

  When they reached his car, he reached for the handle and opened the door for her. She smiled at him before climbing in, pausing with one hand on the roof and one hand on the edge of the door. "You know," she said, "you don't always have to open my car door for me. Or any door, for that matter."

  "Mom says I do," he replied simply, giving her a half-smile and shutting the door after her once she was seated inside.

  They were quiet on the drive back to her apartment, but kept their fingers loosely intertwined on his knee. When he pulled up to her building, she glanced at him from under her lashes.

  "You can come in for a while, if you want," she said softly. A little surge went through him at the words, but he nodded calmly.

  "I'd like to," he said. He followed her into the building and up to her floor. He tried at first not stare at her legs moving up the stairs in front of him, then gave up and allowed his eyes to slide down them, appreciating their shape and the way the muscles would tense and flex as she bent and straightened them. She unlocked her door and Rocky came running from her bedroom, the tip of his tail curled over in greeting. As she bent to pet her cat, Heath shut the door and locked her locks for her.

  "Care for some mindless television?" she asked jokingly. She turned her back toward him to open her hall closet and he watched as she slipped off her jacket to hang it back up. He realized the back of her dress was cut out, her smooth, lightly defined back on display, and wo
ndered how he'd failed to notice that all evening. He sat down on her couch and stretched his legs out in front of him, watching as she kicked off her heels next and padded across the carpet to join him on the couch.

  She dropped onto the couch next to him and curled up into his side. He put his arm around her and let his hand drop lightly to her bare back, gauging her reaction. She allowed his hand to remain where it was, so he started to lightly stroke the exposed skin, losing himself in the sensation of how smooth and satiny it felt against his rough fingertips. She had turned to an old movie, from the eighties from what he could tell. He'd never seen it or heard of it before, but it starred a young Michael Douglas and Melanie Griffith and was set during World War Two. He might have found it interesting on a different day, but for right now, all he cared about was how her skin felt. She seemed to be enjoying his caresses as well, her eyes closing in relaxation as he traced the indentation of her spine, the outline of her shoulder blades, swirling lazy circles over the expanse of bare, smooth skin with his fingertips. In fact, she seemed to fall asleep under his touches, and he was okay with that. If her back was this smooth and soft, he could only imagine what the rest of her felt like.

  Shit, he thought as his body immediately responded to that involuntary thought. He shifted slightly, and the movement caused Drew's eyes to open. She wasn't exactly in his lap, so he was pretty sure she couldn't feel anything, but then again, she wasn't far away from him, either, and now her eyes were open. He shifted again and she glanced up at him.

  "Would you –" she whispered, then trailed off and bit her lip. His fingers continued to stroke at her skin as he looked at her with his brows raised.

  She tried again. "Could you stretch out and lay next to me?" She whispered the words, and he knew that it required a bit of an effort on her part to get them out. He nodded and she crawled to the other side of him so he could swing his legs up onto the couch. It was wide enough to accommodate them both if they wanted to lay shoulder to shoulder, but Drew laid with her back against his chest, her head pillowed on his bicep. She pulled his arm over her, his hand landing lightly on her tummy and looked up at him.

  He never saw her hand move until he felt it on the back of his neck, her fingers stroking the sensitive skin there lightly, and suddenly he felt her fingertips press against his skin lightly. He got the message immediately and slowly lowered his face to hers.

  ***

  Drew's heart was already thudding, but when Heath's lips landed on hers lightly, it kicked into overdrive. With one extremely thoughtful gesture on his part that had brought them together that evening, he'd made her feel like a completely different person over the course of the night. She'd been openly affectionate with him, felt bold enough to invite him upstairs and now…and now, this.

  When his fingers had first begun stroking her back, it had felt relaxing. After a while, she'd felt warmth starting to flood through her, little pinpricks of heat that started deep in her belly and blossomed outward. She'd realized with a start that Heath was turning her on.

  And when she'd realized that he was getting turned on, it made those pinpricks of heat shoot downward and pool between her legs, making her flesh twitch and crawl there.

  Now that she was lying with her back pressed against his front, she could feel his arousal at simply touching her bare skin and it frightened her, intimidated her…and turned her on all the more. She'd wanted to run. Instead, she'd coaxed his head down, inviting him to take her lips. Which he did, and was doing.

  He was moving his lips along hers in that extremely slow, sensuous way she could never seem to stop thinking about, especially when she looked at his mouth, and for a moment couldn't even kiss him back, just enjoying the feeling of his warm, soft lips against hers and drawing in deep breaths to take in his deliciously spicy, clean scent she couldn't get enough of. When she felt the tip of his tongue slide along the seam of her lips, her eyes flew open as new desire flooded through her. She began to return his kisses, her body overruling her mind and making her kiss him back hastily, but he gently cupped the side of her face as though he were silently asking her to slow down, and leisurely, he feasted on her mouth with his own.

  She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt such want pound through her veins like this, blood surging to sensitive areas that had long-since been disregarded as pleasurable body parts, but they were now coming to life in a slowly delicious way. She was nervous, she was slightly anxious, but she also felt like she was on fire. Heath Riley had managed to do the impossible—arouse her.

  His hand trailed down her cheek to her neck, over her collarbones and down her sternum and merely the thought of what it would feel like for him to touch her breasts sent another surge of desire through her. She felt like she was positively aching from the excitement throbbing between her thighs. His hand rested lightly on her stomach, but began to smooth over it slowly and sensuously as his lips and tongue continued to take hers. Her head was swimming and between what his mouth was doing to her and the innocent places his hand touched she felt like she could explode.

  She sucked in a noisy breath when his lips slowly moved from her mouth to her chin, down the side of her jaw to its hinge, and came to rest against the pulse in her neck. She knew he could feel how fast and hard it was pumping, and swore she could feel his lips curl into a smile against her skin. He moved his lips to the middle of her throat, and moved them down in a line of firm, slow, and slightly moist kisses until he reached the hollow spot at the base of her throat. She couldn't keep in a tiny sigh of pleasure when she felt his tongue swirl slowly there. His lips continued down languidly, grazing the sensitive skin over her collar bones before moving down her upper chest. He stopped at the edge of the slightly low neckline of her dress and followed it to each side, moving over the tops of her breasts. He returned to the middle and moved his lips to her sternum, and even through the fabric she could feel his mouth burning there and suddenly she felt his hand move lower, touching her thigh. She froze, feeling an even stronger wave of the confusing mixture of panic, fear and desire.

  "Heath," she whispered, and in reply he gently stroked the skin of her thigh, running his fingers from the middle of her quadriceps down almost to her knee and back up. He swept his fingers from her outer thigh inward and he gently pressed his fingers there, pulling her top leg back toward him slightly. It both opened her up slightly, and allowed her to feel more of his arousal. She gulped. She couldn't tell much through the fabric of his pants, but if she wasn't mistaken, he felt large. Intimidatingly large. She wasn't at all sure she was ready for it. Or rather, her body was ready; her mind was on the fence.

  She jumped when his fingers slid up her inner thigh and panic sent alarm bells going off in her head. "Heath," she whispered again, grasping for his hand.

  He squeezed her fingers gently before capturing her lips in his. The panic melted from her mind at the feeling of his lips and tongue.

  "I'm not gonna hurt you," he whispered against her lips. "I just want to touch you. That's all."

  She lay very still, her breath hitched in her chest as her heart kicked into an impossibly high gear, and after a moment, he returned his fingers to her inner thigh and stroked the flesh there lightly. She shut her eyes as the heat between her legs turned into tingling hotness and the throbbing, aching sensation she'd felt earlier returned with a vengeance. She bit back a gasp when his fingertips brushed over her core through her panties leisurely, and a surge of pleasure she felt at the sensation made her eyes fly open. He took her lips in his again and continued to stroke her through her panties, light feathery strokes that made her jolt every time she felt them. His fingertips brushed the top edge of her panties, wedging under them slightly next to the flesh there.

  "Is this okay with you?" he asked into her neck, his lips and voice making her shudder with want. She hesitated for a moment, her mind whirling and she was tempted to pull away and say no, it wasn't okay with her. Instead, her body quickly won that battle and after a moment, she nod
ded enough for him to feel it, and his fingers moved slowly under the edge of her panties again, further in, until the tip of his finger brushed her. She could feel her own wetness glide with his finger and couldn't suppress the gasp that burst out of her throat. He dipped the tip of his finger inside her ever so slightly, then stroked his finger upward to her hot little center, her wetness gliding him along. He slowly circled the hard tiny pearl at the top of her core lightly, over and over, until she felt the slow, tight heat in her pelvis begin to coil even tighter and tighter, and a very strange sensation she hadn't felt in so long came over her. She tried to tell him that something strange was happening to her, tried to tell him how good it felt, when that coil wound just a little too tight, and with a final swipe of his finger, it broke. The tingling hot, hot heat burst deep and low inside her, and she came in a shuddering, gasping rush, her eyes flying wide open but seeing nothing, as waves of pleasure slammed into her and she shook and convulsed in his arms, gasping an abbreviated version of his name as her mouth fell open.

  After a moment of lightly touching her to bring her through her aftershocks, he slowly withdrew his hand, pulling her panties back into place and pulling the skirt of her dress back down, and returned his fingers to the skin of her thigh as his lips moved against her neck. His hand ran languidly up her abdomen, stopping at her sternum to press lightly there as his lips moved to the pulse in her neck. It was still beating fast and hard, but starting to slow as a deep, satisfied sleepiness settled over her. She could still feel his hardness pressing into the back of her thigh; if it was possible, it felt even harder than before. She wondered shyly if she should return the favor, wanting him to experience even a taste of the pleasure she'd just had. She met his eyes, and swallowed, biting down into her lip. His smoky eyes moved over her face and a little smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth, almost as though he knew what she was thinking. He tilted his head and pressed his mouth to hers firmly and sensuously, doing nothing to help slow the beating of her heart or extinguish the slow burn of desire between her legs.