by Regina Wade
“I really was serious. The only dancing I’ve done is at a club with my girlfriends.” Rori whispers back, her mask of calm finally showing a single crack of nerves.
“No boys?” I ask, a bit more brusquely than I intend.
She rolls her eyes.
“No. They were only interested in one thing.” She bites her lip as she looks up at me. Adorably cute and unbelievably sexy. That’s Rori.
“I’m interested in that, too.” I murmur.
Before she can respond, we begin to dance.
The tango isn’t an easy dance, but at its heart, it’s all about one thing. Connection. Rori might not be trained in classic ballroom dancing, but the thread connecting us is far stronger than anyone else.
I can see it in the faces around us as I catch them out of the corner of my eye. They can see the chemistry between us, the raw passion.
“Just follow my lead. We’re just walking to music. Take a step, take another, and slide.”
Step.
“Easy for you to say, I’m the one walking backward.”
Step.
“So go slow. We’re in no rush.”
Slide.
“I don’t want to get off the beat.”
“We’ll make our own beat, Rori. We’ll make our own music. Just trust me.”
There’s no fear in her eyes now as she meets mine and smiles. I press us closer, wrapping her arm tighter around mine, bending my knees to be closer to eye level.
“Just let the rest of the world drop away. The people at the tables, the music, all of it. Nothing else exists but us, nothing else matters but the space between us.”
Her hazel eyes are so big, twin galaxies blazing in the dark of the night. Her pulse is leaping in her throat despite our slow pace.
Or maybe because of it.
Her body is crying out for my touch, and it’s hard to keep my hand from drifting too far down her back or too far up her thigh. There’s a part of me that wants to slide my hand up the slit in her dress and just keep going, slide all the way up to the top of her thighs and claim what’s mine.
Instead, I spin her out, guiding her away and then back into me. Back to my chest. I can feel the swell of her ass pressing against my cock and even through my slacks, it’s almost too much. My cock throbs in time to the beat, the pulse relentless.
I slide my hand down to her side, moving her away just enough that I don’t shoot a load right then and there.
“What’s the matter, Reed? I thought the tango was supposed to be forbidden and sexy.” Rori arches one eyebrow at me over her shoulder. It’s the most erotic question I’ve ever been asked, even through her teasing tone.
“It is. You are.” I guide her carefully, guiding her with subtle movements of my arms. I keep my knees bent, lowering myself down until my lips are against her ear.
“Sexy?” She asks quietly, her voice a whisper that I somehow can hear crystal clear even over the music surrounding us.
“Forbidden,” I growl. Her body shudders against mine, every point of contact a sweet ache. I want her so much. I’ve wanted her so much for so long that this entire scene feels dreamlike. Just another fantasy that I’ll wake up from, leaning against the shower wall with my cock in my fist.
“I don’t have to be.” I spin her around, arresting her momentum with a firm grip on her hip. Suddenly eye to eye, it’s somehow even more difficult to talk to her. The look in her eyes is pure fire, and I want nothing more than to throw myself into her and burn.
“You couldn’t stop being sexy if you tried.” I murmur, our faces an inch apart and closing fast.
“Forbidden.” She whispers. I feel her breath kiss my lips and I want more.
I step back, spinning her out again. Away. The dance reflects our lives: constantly drawn to each other like gravity, then sent wildly spiraling apart.
Only to come back together even harder than before.
This time when she spins back into me, Rori leans into it, her body arching over my arm in a dip, her arm around my neck and my heart in her hands.
“We can’t hurt Beth like that.” I shake my head down at her. Her brilliant eyes shine with warmth even as they glisten with unspoken emotion.
I pull her up out of the dip, back to facing me. Back to the simple, basic step of the dance.
Step. Step. Drag.
“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt her?” She says, but her inflection is hesitant, questioning. The type of question where she already knows the answer, she just hopes I’ll tell her what she wants to hear instead of what she already knows is the truth.
I smile at her. “You’ve always been cutest when you’re trying to bend the rules. Like that time Mom told Beth no piercings and no tattoo parlors, so you just did it yourself in the garage.”
Rori flushes. “I didn’t know you found out about that.”
I crack a grin at her. “It’s hard to miss when your baby sister’s ears swell up like two big grapefruits.”
Rori bites her bottom lip, chewing it in a way that strips all of the humor out of the air.
“Well, she didn’t wash hers. I told her to keep it clean.” She murmurs.
I’m so wrapped up in how sexy she is that it takes a moment for me to catch her meaning.
“Your ears aren’t pierced,” I say, lust making my voice hoarse.
“No, Reed. They aren’t,” Rori flashes me her sexy grin again, and for a moment all thoughts of right or wrong fly from my mind. All that exists is my aching need to claim this gorgeous woman, to mark her as mine.
Then reality reasserts itself. The music swells, the tempo growing, and I guide us quicker.
Step. Step. Slide.
I can feel a sheen of sweat on my forehead. Tendrils of Rori’s long auburn locks cling to her face and neck. The urge to feel her hair between my fingers crashes into me, almost makes me miss a step.
Rori catches me as I stumble, bracing me just enough that I don’t trip.
“What’s the matter, Reed?” Her voice is pure innocence, her body anything but.
“You. You’ve been all that matters for a long time, Rori.” I murmur as I pull her close.
Arm wrapped around my neck, Rori lifts one leg, wrapping it around me. The slit in her dress exposes a scandalous amount of thigh as she leans back, hanging off of me.
“You’re all talk, Reed. Always have been. It’s nice to think about, but it’s just a fantasy. Better kept that way, too. I’m sure it’d be disappointing in reality.” Rori smiles up at me, but it doesn't reach her amber eyes.
“What would be disappointing?” I ask, my voice gruff.
“You. Me. Us.” Rori shrugs.
I frown. “When did you get so jaded, Rori?”
She rolls her eyes at me.
“I’ve always been like this, Reed. You just didn’t notice.”
I pull her close again, eliminating all of the space between us in a heartbeat.
“I’m noticing now,” Our lips are so close that they brush against each other, a whisper of a kiss.
The song ends, but we don’t move apart. The tension is thick, holding us in place, drawing us closer and closer together.
I lean into her, chasing the last bit of closeness. Her lips part as I brush against them, her hands fisting in my suit and hauling me closer still.
Even after picturing a first kiss with Rori a thousand different ways, she takes me by surprise. Her kiss is sweet but angry, as if she’s pouring all of the frustration of the last six years into me. She’s so aggressive that I am caught off guard, hesitating before meeting her halfway, matching her ardor.
Then we’re apart, both of us stepping back, panting, eyes locked.
With a shake of her head, Rori turns away.
I want to follow her, chase her down, pin her against the wall and kiss her until her toes curl. But I can’t.
Forbidden.
Chapter 8
Rori
If I leave here tomorrow, Would you still remember me? — Lynyrd Skynyrd,
‘Free Bird’
I need you, Reed.
The text sits on my phone, the cursor blinking up at me with accusatory fervor. Impatient For me to add to it, change it, send it.
Instead, I delete it for the tenth time in the last hour. I smash my finger into the backspace on my phone angrily, deleting each letter one at a time. Pointedly.
A cold shower didn’t help. Two cold showers didn’t help. They only made me more aware of how sensitive my body was, every synapse and nerve turned up to eleven. No, twelve. Reed had always been the object of every dirty thought I’d ever had since I first had them. Being this close to him has only rekindled every buried feeling I ever had, reignited flames that I thought had burnt out six years ago.
Now I’m burning, and no amount of water can put me out.
I gaze at myself in the mirror. Stripped of my fancy dress, I just look normal to me. All my flaws jump out at me, stretch marks and imperfections highlighted under my eyes.
Stupid, to think anyone as perfect as Reed Baker could ever find you attractive.
But he definitely had tonight. He’d looked at me the way I’d always dreamt he would. The way I wished he would. Maybe it had just been the dress?
Well, one way to find out.
I held the phone up, giving the mirror my very best sexy pose. How do other girls make sexy selfies look so easy? There’s not enough of me to cover up all the me I don’t want to flaunt. Even using my arms across my breasts and angling the camera just right, there’s still far too much of me on display.
Before I can chicken out, I hit send. In for a penny, in for a pound.
Getting Reed in for a pounding is exactly what you want.
A fresh wave of anxiety hits me, and I pull my fingers out of my mouth before I can bite all my nails off. Six years of staying on the straight and narrow, staying away from my best friend’s brother, and one dance was enough to make me horny enough to throw all of that away.
It wasn’t just a dance. It was foreplay.
I stare at my phone intently, willing the message to deliver. Watching as the message turns from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’. Obsessing as the indicator turns to a ‘...’ as Reed types a message back. I’m reading it before my phone even vibrates.
Liar. I don’t see any piercings.
Heat pools between my legs. Butterflies flutter in my stomach, and a stupid grin eases its way onto my face. A grin so big that my cheeks hurt from the effort. Something about Reed has always invoked that warmth. The way he challenges, flirts, and pushes.
Well, now I’m pushing back.
Come see for yourself. I’m a lot of things, but not a liar.
Message fired off, I toss my phone on the bed triumphantly. Take that, teenage crush.
I know he won’t, and I know it’s just painful to keep going like this, but I can’t stop.
Once when I was younger, I had a loose tooth that I couldn’t stop tonguing. It hurt, and messing with it made it ache more and more, but I couldn’t stop myself. The pain was addictive, and the only thing that scratched the itch was more.
Reed’s like that, only no amount of tonguing him would soothe me.
My phone vibrates, and I snatch it up, giddy and eager, suddenly eighteen all over again. Something tells me I’m going to end up home alone on prom night again, too.
Keep acting like a spoiled brat and I just might.
I roll my eyes. Predictable, same old same old Reed. Frustration makes my fingers fly as I shoot back my message before tossing my phone back onto the bed.
All bark, no bite.
I move around the room, putting things away, brushing imaginary dust off of my killer dress. I might not get what I want from this week, but hell if I’m not keeping this dress and wearing it every chance I get.
I lean against the fabric, inhaling deeply. I can still smell Reed on it. Rich pine, clean sweat, and something else. Something warm. A spicy heat.
Pathetic. Wash that ASAP, then wash this fantasy out of your head and this man out of your hair.
A good five minutes go by before my phone buzzes again. Just long enough to make me certain he isn’t going to respond. Reed’s always been fantastic at doing or saying just the right thing to frustrate me.
No text this time. Just a picture.
Reed in just a pair of tight black boxer-briefs, every line of his body chiseled perfection. My eyes dart up and down, dipping to study the rigid bulge in his underwear, and then back up to look at the top of the picture. His face is cut off, but his teeth are clear, bared in a growl that makes my stomach do a somersault.
You’re going to bite off more than you can chew.
The text follows through immediately. I’m already chewing my lip, and I can’t help but grin, wondering if Reed knows I was.
I snap another picture, the opposite of my first. Just my face, my bottom lip pulled up between my front teeth.
Give me something else to chew on.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like this. Filled up to bursting with emotion, overflowing with aching need. Knowing Reed feels the same way hasn’t done anything to extinguish the fire in my pussy, only redoubled it.
Another five minutes go by, and then five more. The flames of my need bank themselves, tendrils of icy apprehension growing. I know at some point I’ll push him too far, push him away again. One of us will break, unable to withstand the tension between us, unwilling to betray Beth.
Fuck it. If this is it, the last time I see Reed for the next six years or more, I’m not going to give up that easily. Beth will just have to hate me. I’d rather she hate me than hate myself for letting him go without one last try.
I pull my robe on over my naked body, cinch it tight, and haul the door open.
Reed is standing there, towel wrapped around his hips. Droplets of water glisten on his skin, highlighting the deep lines of his muscular physique. His phone is in one hand, the other raised halfway to the door.
Without a word he pushes me into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. The crash is deafening, but I can’t hear it over the roar of blood in my ears. His phone hits the floor, his hands on my hips, lifting me up and shoving me against the wall as his lips find mine.
Our first kiss was sweet, hesitant, tentative. Reed let me lead, letting me guide us just as he moved me in the dance. It was saccharine, the kind of fairytale kiss young girls dream about.
This kiss is nothing like that.
Reed’s mouth on mine is insistent and demanding. The scrape of his stubble against my lips is harsh, sending a thrill of need pulsing through me. I thought that I couldn’t want Reed any more than I already did, but I was wrong. Reed has always been careful, cautious.
Feeling him throw all of that caution out of the window, burning everything down with his lips on mine, it spikes my arousal to dizzying levels. I moan against him, opening my mouth under his, wrapping my legs around his waist as he holds me up.
His mouth isn’t satisfied with just mine. He stops plundering my lips to move along my neck to my ear, then down my throat, sinking his teeth into my shoulder. His bite is another lance of red-hot need directly into my core. I can feel my pussy tingling, my nipples achingly hard against the thin fabric of the robe.
His hands move away from my hips, but I don’t budge an inch. Reed holds me up against the wall with just his body pressed against mine. I can feel the heat of his cock pressing up against me through three layers of fabric.
I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life. I let my head roll back, giving Reed more access to my body with his mouth. I move my hands from his back to his front, sliding under his robe to caress his chest.
His hands grasp mine, one big hand wrapping tightly around each of my wrists, slamming them back into the wall. I cry out in need as I grind myself against him, the intensity of the connection between us so much that I’m about to climax already, my pussy quivering on the edge of release.
I feel his mouth shift against me, his teeth sinking
into my skin until I cry out, bucking against him. Just another second, just one more brush of his body against my clit, just another inch of pressure. One more heartbeat.
Reed breaks away, letting me slide down the wall into a wet, hot pile of need. I glance up at him, and the expression of need etched onto his face is almost enough to give me that last shove over the finish line.
My hand comes up to my neck, feeling the ache of a bruise already forming where his mouth was. I look up at him, every cell in my body screaming for me to beg him not to stop, but I can’t make the words come out.
Then he’s gone. I shudder, panting, trying to catch my breath. My phone lights up, buzzing its way across the tile of the floor. I reach over, dragging it up.
No more barking.
Chapter 9
Reed
I’m learning to fly, but I ain't got wings. Coming down is the hardest thing. — Tom Petty, ‘Learning to Fly’
I’m a man of routine. Years in the military aren’t ever forgotten, no matter how long I’ve been in the private sector. My routine is my default. It’s a shield against the storm, something to fall back on when the waves crash over the hull and threaten to sink the whole ship.
A storm named Rori Stewert.
I’m up before the sun, despite the worst night’s sleep of my life. Even jerking myself to completion half a dozen times hadn’t shaken the image of Rori from my mind, hadn’t wiped the taste of her kiss from my lips.
Like a bolt of lightning, she’s flashed in from nowhere, frying my senses. Like a phone that’s been reset to its factory default, I fall back on my routine as a way of wresting control of my heart back from my sister’s best friend.
Up before the sun for my run. Showered and shaved before anyone else is even stirring.
First I check my job. Brash’s room is next to mine, and I didn’t hear anything all night — and I would have, seeing as how I got about three winks of sleep all night long.