Dances with Monsters

by D. C. Ruins

  "No," Heath replied quietly. "It doesn't. I mean, it might if you hadn't gone through what you've gone through. But I can completely see why you would be intimidated by that." He rose from the desk and stepped toward her. She was struck anew by how imposing he seemed; he was tall and heavy with muscle, brutality radiating from his every pore, and as he took her hand, she felt the familiar feeling of surprise that she always felt at his gentleness. She'd seen him in the ring countless times, had seen him in his violent element on TV and knew how scary he could be; yet he always went out of his way to be so gentle with her. That realization made another feeling of intrinsic trust for him surge through her.

  "If you don't believe anything else I say, believe me when I tell you that you're safe with me," he said quietly. "I will not allow anything bad to happen to you as long as I'm around. Okay?" He lifted her chin to scan her face with his eyes as though he needed to check and make sure his message had been received.

  She smiled. "Roger that," she said softly, and he returned her smile.

  "Now, will you let me eat in peace?" he joked. He reached for the bag but she closed her hand around the top of it and looked at him sternly.

  "I want my mug," she insisted. "You take me to my mug, and you get to eat."

  He sighed. "Your mug is at home. I told you this."

  She let an impish smile dimple one of her cheeks. "Then I guess you'd better take me home," she said teasingly, surprising herself with her boldness. She glanced around at his neat-as-a-pin desk. "I think your work here is done, anyway. Don't you?"

  He glanced around and laughed. "It's never done. But I don't have any evening appointments, if that's what you mean." He sighed. "You're starting to be bad for my work ethic," he said.

  Drew shrugged and let go of the sack. "Okay," she said calmly. "I'll get out of your hair then." She started to stride past him for the door, but he merely laughed at her and grabbed her arm as she passed. He pulled her against his body and gripped her waist.

  "No, you won't," he murmured. "Not until I say so."

  "You're not the boss of me," Drew returned childishly, automatically lifting her face to his. She waited until he tilted his head to take her lips and then pulled back. "No more until I get my mug!"

  "To hell with that mug," he muttered, smirking at her. She turned her face and he sighed, releasing her. "Fine. Let's go. Be careful with my food."

  Drew snatched the sack from his desk and followed him out of the office. He locked up and walked through the gym. It was surprisingly busy for a Friday evening, but there were lots of guys around the ring, and as usual, there were also lots of girls. Drew couldn't help noticing the dirty looks she received again as she followed Heath through the gym, and again, he didn't pay any attention to it.

  "You out, boss?" Rex asked when they passed.

  Heath nodded. "Make sure you and Jameson lock up tight tonight," he said. "This morning when I got here I saw that you missed a lock."

  "My bad, won't happen again," Rex replied. His attention was back on ESPN before Heath and Drew even made it out the door.

  "I see you're driving yourself around more and more," Drew said, spotting his car parked down the street. "So much for saving gas money?"

  He laughed. "Just for today," he shot back. "This crazy girl wouldn't let me out of her apartment last night. Almost made me late for work. I had to drop her off at her job and everything."

  "She sounds much too good for you," Drew commented as he pulled her door open for her.

  "She is," Heath replied once she got settled in her seat. She smiled up at him and he leaned into the car to give her a quick kiss before shutting her door and jogging around to his side. He started the car and turned on his windshield wipers as a light sprinkling of rain began to fall and pulled off.

  Drew felt a little nervous at the prospect of going to his apartment, but it was just her old nerves making their presence known again. She was under no illusions about the huge personal strides she'd been making over the last couple of weeks and she was taking huge risks—for her—and putting herself out there in ways she'd never dreamed she would or could. But she felt that feeling in her gut again, the one that made her feel like she could really trust Heath. She wasn't sure she was there completely yet, but she trusted him at least a little for now.

  He pulled up in front of a newer apartment building in a part of town that was made up of mostly middle class citizens. It wasn't far from the gym at all, or maybe it just seemed closer since they hadn't waited forever for a bus or the train. Although parking was always a hassle, and gas prices were just simply too high, and insurance was a bitch, Drew had to admit there was something to be said for controlling one's own transportation.

  The apartment building itself was very clean and smelled like a mixture of sawdust and vanilla, a peculiar combination of odors but one she found to be actually quite nice. It wasn't very well lit, as several of the bulbs in the wall sconces were going out, but Heath led her to his first floor unit. He used a little metal computerized chip to unlock his door and with an electronic zing, he pressed down on the handle and stood back to let her in.

  She glanced around, immediately noting the lack of décor and also how incredibly tidy it was. She smiled at him as he reached around her to flick on a light.

  "Expecting company?" she asked. "It's so clean in here."

  He smiled and shrugged. "Nah. I just like it neat."

  He had a flat screen on the wall and an entertainment center below it. She spotted a digital cable box, a DVD player and an Xbox gaming system. He had DVDs and video games lined up neatly on the shelf of the entertainment center and she had a sudden urge to check and see if they were alphabetized. There was a coffee table in the middle of the room and the couch was a dark brown microfiber, with wide seats and extra plush cushions. There was a matching easy chair and ottoman angled next to it.

  "Something to drink?" he asked, moving to the kitchen.

  "Just water," she replied. "Thanks."

  She glanced over at a long end table against the wall. There were two framed pictures on it and she leaned over to see them better. One was an older picture of a woman appearing to be in her late thirties or early forties. She had wavy, mid-length dark hair and wore glasses, but Drew instantly recognized her plump, luscious lips and smiled. The other picture was of Heath and a young Hispanic man, taken in a desert. They were both wearing military-issued camouflage uniforms and wearing sunglasses. They had their arms slung around each other's shoulders and both were grinning widely. Drew knew she was looking at Joaquin, his best friend. There was a single votive candle in between the photos and it was currently unlit. Drew could tell from the black charred wick and the dried melted wax that Heath lit it from time to time.

  She took her seat again, stretching her legs in front of her when Heath reappeared. He held a plastic bottle of Gatorade in one hand and held her mug in the other. He smirked at her and set the mug in front of her. Drew saw that it was filled with water and ice. She chuckled.

  "Killin' two birds and all that," Heath said, guzzling a swallow of Gatorade. Drew picked up the mug and sipped at it demurely. She set it back down and turned to face him.

  "I really don't care about the mug," she informed him. "It was all a ploy to see where you live."

  "Ah," Heath replied. "Well done." He smiled at her. "Regardless, you have it back now. I think you have something for me?"

  Drew grinned and grabbed the sack. She grabbed his foil-covered wrap and pulled it out, pleased that it still felt warm. She turned back to hand it to him, but instead of taking it, he slipped a hand around the back of her neck, his thumb stroking her jaw, and pulled her closer. His lips stroked hers softly, and as always, she marveled at how soft they felt against hers and the way they enveloped her mouth.

  "That's actually what I meant," he murmured, brushing his lips against hers. Then he snatched the wrap from her hand. "But this works too." She laughed and pushed his shoulder. "Aren't you eating?" he asked.
She shook her head.

  "No, I ate earlier," she replied. Heath nodded and handed her the remote for the TV before immersing himself in his meal. Drew sighed contentedly and flipped through the channels rapidly, searching for something interesting to watch.

  "How can you even tell what you're watching?" Heath demanded around a mouthful of his wrap. "It's givin' me a headache."

  "I'm just extraordinarily talented," Drew replied absently, her attention momentarily captured by a reality show featuring a bunch of women screaming in each other's faces. She cocked her head curiously before zipping past the show. She finally settled on a cable presentation of "The Godfather" and snuggled into Heath's side once he finished his meal.

  "Thanks for the food," he said, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close.

  "You are most welcome," she replied. They watched together in silence for a while and then Heath spoke, gesturing at the screen.

  "Your dad looks like Sonny," he commented and Drew squinted at the screen. After a moment she had to laugh. Her father did resemble the older version of Sonny, or rather the actor that portrayed him—James Caan.

  "He does," she marveled. "Don't tell him that, though. He'll go around shouting 'Bada-bing!' at everything and everyone."

  "And your Uncle Gino reminds me of Don Corleone," Heath added. "The way he sits there all quiet. Just takin' everything in. Plottin' on how to whack you."

  "Whack you, maybe," Drew said with a grin. "Me, I'm his favorite. Don't tell Nik or Toni that."

  "I will," Heath replied. "I'm tellin' them next time I see 'em. And it's your ass."

  Drew slipped an arm across his waist and snuggled into his chest as his arm squeezed her gently. She felt so at peace, so very contented that she let out a sigh.

  "Everything good?" he asked mildly.

  "Good," she answered, smiling into his side. "Very good."

  They continued to watch the movie in a comfortable silence. Although it was Drew's favorite, she couldn't help it when her eyelids started to get heavy. She tried to fight it and stay awake, but soon enough, she had dozed off against him.

  She woke some time later when she felt his fingers slip under her sweater and begin to stroke her skin, similar to what he had done the previous night, but this time he had the entire expanse of her back available to him. She shivered when his fingers traced lightly up her side, across the bottoms of her shoulder blades and down her spine. For a moment she lost herself in the tingling, almost ticklish sensations his fingers were leaving in their wake across her smooth skin.

  "You're sleepin' through your movie," he said quietly.

  She yawned and stretched her neck. "Sorry," she replied. "I must be sleepier than I thought."

  "Then maybe we should go lay down for a little bit," came his reply and it brought her up short. His voice had somehow deepened and there was an unmistakably suggestive tone in it.

  He caught the worry on her face and smiled. "Don't worry," he teased gently. "I'll behave. Don't know if you will, but I'll be a good boy. Anyway, I'm a little tired myself."

  It didn't really take a whole lot of persuasion on his part to convince her to lay in a bed with him, so she nodded. It would be nice to take a nap before he brought her home, and although his couch was comfortable, the thought of stretching out in a bed was appealing.

  He showed her where his bathroom was and she turned on the water after shutting the door, shy about him hearing her pee. As she washed her hands at the sink she spotted a large jug of mouthwash and quickly took a swig, wincing at the strong sting from the alcohol. She rinsed her mouth thoroughly and spat, then took another swig and repeated the action. She left the bathroom and stopped short, seeing Heath standing in front of his bed with his back to her. He was pulling off his shirt and she forgot about everything as she looked at the muscles of his back, his well-defined trap muscles, the curve of his shoulders. He turned around and caught her looking, and half-smiled at her expression. He moved past her and she couldn't help but eye his chest and stomach.

  "Go get comfortable," he said. "I'll be right back." He slipped into the bathroom and she turned toward the bed. She moved toward it and after a moment's hesitation, undid her jeans and pulled them off her legs. It was an extremely bold move, but she told herself that she would have done the same thing if she were preparing for a nap at home. After another moment, she freed her hair from its bun and let the waves fluff around her face and laid down, pulling his covers over her legs.

  Heath left the bathroom, flicking off the light and in the darkness crossed the hall to his bedroom. He slipped into bed beside her and for a moment froze when he brushed her bare leg with his foot. She wondered if he would say anything but he didn't. Instead he gathered her up and pulled her against his chest.

  They stayed like that for a while, Drew's fingers twitching as she fought the urge to run them over his warm skin. She no longer felt sleepy; she felt warm. Hot. Aroused.

  As though he could sense it, Heath began brushing his lips against her forehead, her temple, down her cheek until he found her lips in the dark. She latched on immediately and grabbed at him, deciding to allow her hands to move over him all they wanted. His body was incredible and his face was better; she was in heaven.

  He was only wearing sweatpants, and once again she could feel his hardness spring to life against her thigh as his hand slid down to it, touching her smooth skin and pulling her leg up to his waist. Meanwhile, his tongue was coaxing hers to meet his in a slow, moist tango, and she could taste the sharp mint flavor of his mouthwash, but whether it was from her mouth or his or both she couldn't be sure. All she knew was that she couldn't get enough of the taste of his tongue.

  His fingers slid up her thigh and swept across the front, heading for the warm shelter they'd found between her legs the night before. They hesitated over her panties, and Drew knew he was making sure it was okay with her again. Given that she'd hardly been able to think of anything else since then, she whispered, "Yes."

  His fingers brushed slowly, lightly, against her through the fabric of her panties like they had the night before and she shuddered at the sensation and felt herself grow moist with arousal. He continued to tease her through her panties and Drew felt the same, familiar tight coil of heat tense in her pelvis. Finally, after several long moments of agonizing teasing, he slipped his fingers under the material, against her flesh. When his finger stroked her ultra-sensitive pearl, primed with desire after a day of thinking of him and wanting him, she burst immediately, gasping into his mouth as she dug her fingers into his flesh. He chuckled softly, amused at her lightning-fast orgasm. He slipped his fingers lower, teasing her opening and enjoying her wetness. She lay very still, breathing hard, wondering if she would allow him to enter her with his fingers, and she hardly had time to fight herself about it when she felt one slip into her and stroke her inner wall slowly and firmly. She gasped again, the sensation so alien to her after all this time, but she was so turned on that she wanted more; her thighs unconsciously spread wider. As her wetness gushed again, he added a second finger.

  He seemed to breathing as raggedly as she was and she felt him straining against her thigh. She was tempted—so tempted, her body screaming for it, but she knew that if she let her body make that call, her mind would suffer for it.

  "Heath," she whispered. "I—I'm not sure –"

  "Shh," he whispered back into her skin. "I told you. I just want to touch you."

  His fingers found a rhythm, and as they worked inside her he buried his face in her neck, listening to her breathing, her soft moans. She could hardly believe she was experiencing this, that she was allowing it to happen, but…it just felt so good.

  So good, in fact, that she felt the familiar heat coiling in her stomach yet again, but this time it felt deeper, buried inside her core, more intense. She mumbled unintelligibly as his fingers coaxed the feeling inside her to come to the surface, stronger and stronger, until her eyes were flying open again and her body shook and sh
uddered and Heath's lips dropped onto hers as she came again, so intense it literally took her breath away for a moment. He waited until she'd calmed down a little before stroking her gently a few more times and then withdrawing his fingers.

  She was suddenly overcome with the desire to give him something in return. She felt shy about it, having been out of practice for quite some time. Despite that, her fingers touched the skin above the waistband of his sweatpants, before closing around the elastic and tugging downward.

  Instantly his hand was over hers, pulling it away. "Nope," he said softly, his breath warming her neck.

  "But," she said shyly, "I want to."

  "And I appreciate that," he replied, smiling into her flesh. "But I'll be okay. I wanted to touch you. That's all. Remember?"

  "But –"

  "No," he replied, kissing her. "Not yet." He gathered her up against him again, wrapping his arms around her.

  As she snuggled into his embrace, she felt slightly bad that she wasn't giving him anything back, but he was right—it might have been too much too soon. She laughed inwardly at her own grudging selfishness and quickly pressed her lips to his shoulder, wondering how in the world she'd gotten lucky enough to find someone like Heath Riley.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  When Drew suddenly jerked awake and sat straight up in bed hours later, she knew she was dead.

  Her sudden, sharp movements caused Heath to wake instantly beside her and sit up too. He watched as she slapped her hand down on his alarm clock and brought it to her face in disbelief before slamming it back down on his nightstand.

  "Problem?" Heath asked mildly.

  "Holy shit!" she breathed. "Holy fuck. I'm in so much trouble."

  It was thirty-seven minutes past seven o'clock; she was supposed to have been at the café at six-thirty. Once a month, her parents took a thorough inventory of the supplies in the café before preparing to make their large, monthly order to their suppliers for re-stock. Inventory was a laborious process and the family usually came in a couple hours before opening to get it done. Drew's help was always especially needed to cut down on the time and this inventory day had happened on a Saturday when she wasn't teaching dance class; her studio was finally being refloored and the barres replaced, and there was no other available studio space at that time. She had called the parents of each of her pupils a few days prior to let them know class had been canceled. Her parents had been delighted when they'd found out she was available for monthly inventory.