by J Q Anderson
Carla told Marcos she wanted to dance. He wrapped his arms around her while she guided him to an open space by the window.
Okay…round one.
Pretty soon the loft was swarming with people, most of them dancers with the company. Everyone was having fun, doing shots and dirty dances with each other. I waved at Nata as she made her way through the thick crowd, followed by Teo, to come and say hi. She was warmer toward Sebastián and introduced him to her fiancé. Sebastián shook Teo’s hand, and after exchanging a few words, Nata said she needed a drink and they left to the bar.
As the night progressed, the tension between Marcos and Sebastián didn’t ease. Sebastián shot him caustic looks, and Marcos smirked back or gave him a bored eye roll. It wasn’t exactly progress, but at least I managed to keep them in the same room without a scene. Also, Sebastián had a first-row seat at Marcos with his bombshell girlfriend, and I hoped it would smooth some of the tension about the tour.
He left to the restroom while I went to the bar for a bottle of water. Marcos startled me from behind, buzzed as usual, and kissed my bare shoulder.
“You have to bring this dress to New York.”
“Marcos,” I scolded, wiggling away from him. “Stop it.”
“What? I’m saying I like your dress. You used to like it when I gave you compliments. What’s your deal lately? Is it this guy you’re with? Is he giving you shit?” He scowled. His sandy hair was longer, brushing his forehead and giving him a rebellious teen look.
“Look, Marcos,” I said, making sure Sebastián wasn’t in sight. “After what happened at Isabel’s the other night, I need you to chill. Sebastián’s not exactly thrilled about us going to New York together.”
“Tough shit.”
“Yeah, well, tough shit for me too. He’s planning on coming, so don’t make things more difficult, all right? Go be chummy with your girlfriend.”
“Wait. He’s coming? To New York?”
“Yes, for my opening night, and it’s sweet. Enough already, okay?”
“You’ll be up to your ass with rehearsals. The last thing you need is this guy giving you shit because you’re working late or he’s waiting to go have dinner.”
“Are you sure it’s me you’re worried about?”
“Tell him no, babe. It’s fucking ridiculous.”
“What is?” Sebastián said from behind me. Shit.
“You, crashing the tour to New York,” Marcos said, pointing at Sebastián menacingly.
Sebastián straightened and took a step forward. “Fuck off, man. Remember you’re all out of warnings.”
“Shit, I’m almost scared,” Marcos scoffed.
“Let’s step outside,” Sebastián said.
“Let’s,” Marcos answered.
I gripped Sebastián’s shirt. “Cool down, Sebastián.” He ignored me and kept his gaze on Marcos. Carla shot me a puzzled look when she appeared from behind Marcos and grabbed his bicep.
“Babe,” she said to Marcos, “we’re going to watch the film from opening night. Come on.”
Marcos didn’t flick a muscle, his gaze still burning on Sebastián.
Carla squeezed his arm. “Marcos, babe, let’s go, they’re waiting for you.” She turned to me. “They’re waiting for you too.”
Marcos reluctantly followed as she tugged him to a back room where other dancers had gathered. I looked around for Nata and saw her approaching. I needed to get Sebastián away from Marcos. Nata motioned us toward the back room to watch the film.
I turned to Sebastián. “Let’s just do this quickly and leave. I have to be present when they start the film from opening night. It’s a tradition.”
His jaw was set with tension, but he gave me a slight nod.
“What were you thinking going after him like that?” I said as we made our way to the loft’s only back room.
“Your friend wanted my attention. I was just giving him what he wanted,” he murmured.
I shuddered inwardly and tugged his hand to a stop. “This whole apartment is full of dancers. They would all stand with Marcos. And you can’t ever, ever hit a dancer. If we’re injured, we can’t work.”
Sebastián cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe you should remind him of that.”
“Sebastián,” I snapped. “I mean it. I’ve seen you fight before. Your jealousy could seriously hurt Marcos’s and my careers. Promise me. Promise me you won’t hurt him.”
His eyes were etched in an icy glare as they met mine.
“Promise me,” I insisted. “I know he’s provoking you, but I need you to promise me that under no circumstances you will hurt Marcos.”
He didn’t answer.
“Sebastián?”
“Fine,” he muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”
We followed Nata to the back room and stood close to the exit, on the far opposite side of Marcos and Carla. Someone dimmed the lights, and a giant flat screen TV showcased the opening night of Giselle. I watched, mesmerized, and for a moment, got completely lost in the performance. It all looked so different from the audience’s point of view. Nata and Marcos were simply astonishing, making the most difficult steps seem natural. Then, I saw myself in my peasant costume, and my breath caught. I looked relaxed, happy, like I was having the time of my life. The tension and nerves inside me were invisible to the audience, and my movements were cheerful and graceful.
Beside me, Nata squeezed my hand. “You look great,” she whispered. Smiling, I turned to Sebastián and my heart halted. Panic spread under my skin as I searched the darkness. He was gone.
And so was Marcos.
Chapter 33
A chill of horror flew down my spine as I hurried to the main room. I swept the ample space in search of Sebastián or Marcos, but found nothing.
I swung the front door open and looked frantically down the dark corridor, but there were no signs of either one of them. I was about to run back to get Carla or Nata when I heard the distinct snap of knuckles on flesh. My whole body tensed. From the end of the corridor, a few male voices cheered. Anger boiled within me. Dammit, Sebastián.
Rushing toward the sounds, I turned the corner and halted to a stop. My blood chilled.
Sebastián faced Marcos, surrounded by a group of Marcos’s friends.
“Sebastián,” I said, stepping forward, but two of the guys blocked me from getting closer.
“Sorry,” one said. “Private party.”
“Let me through! Sebastián, Marcos. For fuck’s sake. Stop acting like children. This is a party.”
Marcos took a swing at Sebastián and he dodged it.
“Marcos!” I snapped. “Cut it out.”
“I told you,” he said, “I don’t give a fuck who your boyfriend is. He’s got to fuck off. He doesn’t belong here.”
“Are we done?” Sebastián smirked. Marcos took a few swings, but Sebastián was quicker, and dodged him every time. Marcos groaned in frustration and sprung forward. He shoved Sebastián back, then clutched his shirt and punched his ribs. Sebastián gasped and gripped Marcos by the throat with one hand, but two of the guys stepped in and secured Sebastián’s arms while Marcos swung another punch, this time at his mouth, then another at his ribs. Sebastián winced. Leaning back, he kicked Marcos behind the knee, causing him to fall on his ass. Marcos seethed. Sebastián took advantage of the distraction to jab a quick elbow at one of the guys holding him back, then the other, knocking out the air from their lungs almost simultaneously as he eased out of their grip. Keeling over, they gasped, their eyes drawn in anger and confusion.
“You’re fucked, asshole,” Marcos spat out as he stood. He nodded at the two guys blocking me, and they joined the other two, who were still recovering, then the four closed in on Sebastián.
“Stop!” I shouted as Marcos threw one, two, three punches at Sebastián’s stomach while the others held his arms and head back.
Sebastián gasped in pain, but his eyes never left Marcos. “You’re pathetic.” Sebastián smiled.
<
br /> Marcos took another swing at Sebastián’s abs. Sebastián’s expression tensed but he seemed to be just taking it. Why in the hell wasn’t he fighting back? All of his moves were defensive. He wasn’t even trying.
Boiling with frustration, I launched myself at Marcos, gripping his shirt and yanking him back as hard as I could, ire surging through me.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” I yelled. “Get away from him.”
Marcos stumbled back, panting. I pushed past him and lifted up my phone at the other four guys still holding Sebastián. “You step the fuck away from him or I’m calling the cops.”
They gave me a rueful smile but let go of Sebastián, who straightened up painfully. I rushed over to him, my hands cupping his face as I wiped a trickle of blood from his lip with my thumb.
“You’re lucky your girl has some chops,” one of them said.
“You fucking cowards, all of you! What the hell? There’s five of you.” My hand slid down Sebastián’s back and felt cold steel at the belt, under his untucked shirt. He reached back and pulled out a gun, letting it hang casually at his side. The guys took an immediate step back. My heart galloped.
“That’s never comfortable,” Sebastián said as he casually leaned down and picked up his coat.
“Who the fuck did we just mess with, dude?” one of the guys mumbled.
“Let’s bounce,” another one said. Marcos straightened and raked his hair back with his hand, a flash of anxiety crossing his eyes.
“You’re an asshole,” I said, glowering at him. “You stay the hell away from me, you hear me?”
“Stop fucking around, Camila,” Marcos snapped. “This guy’s a thug. He’ll hurt your career. I’m not letting him fuck with mine. You get your shit together before the tour.” He snatched up his jacket and walked away.
I bit back anger and frustration. What the hell had gotten into Marcos? I turned to Sebastián. “Are you all right? Jesus.”
“I’m fine,” he mumbled.
My blood boiled with fury, frustration, and guilt, but the ruling feeling was confusion. He was a black belt in martial arts and despite the odds, he could’ve easily had Marcos, even with those four guys holding him back. Plus, he had a freaking gun. I pushed the image away.
“What the hell happened, Sebas?”
“Hmmh,” he groaned, easing into his coat. “Just a little disagreement over…boundaries. Nothing to worry about.”
“Why didn’t you fight them back?” I said, clasping his bicep gently. “I know you could’ve had them, you even have a fucking gun for fuck’s sake, and you let them hit you. You didn’t even touch Marcos.”
“Nope.” He smiled sweetly. “I promised you.”
Chapter 34
We stopped at the top of the driveway to Sebastián’s house, and he killed the engine. Leaning back against the window, he watched me with tired eyes. The moonlight filtered through the forest, casting shadows on his beautiful face. A pink scratch crossed his chin, and his lip was swollen, but I knew his ribs had taken most of the swings. That was how dancers fought. It was easier to deal with a broken rib or two than other injuries in your body. Guilt lanced through me. Part of me wished he had given it back to those assholes. He caressed my face and smiled.
“Don’t sweat it. I’m fine,” he said, reading my thoughts.
“I’m so sorry, Sebas. I never thought Marcos was capable of that. Next time you let them have it.” I held his face in my hands. “I love you even more, if that was even possible.”
In the bedroom, he pressed me against him. “You look beautiful tonight. I like your new dress.” He slowly slipped the straps off my shoulders, letting the fabric slide down and pool at my feet. I stepped out, kissing him gently as my hands worked to unbutton his shirt. Without breaking the kiss, he shrugged off his shirt and climbed onto the bed, bringing me with him. He leaned back against the headboard and winced. I broke away, but he pulled me closer, locking me in his arms. I straddled him, wearing nothing but my new, overpriced underwear, his cock pressing from under the soft denim of his jeans. I kissed him sensually, relishing in the heady feeling of having him, like this. I wanted to devour him, show him how much I loved him. The kiss intensified, and he squeezed his arms, bringing me closer. Then he broke away.
“Will you do something for me?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Anything.”
“Dance for me,” he whispered against my lips. “Only me.” He pulled his face away slightly, and his eyes darkened. The fire inside me flared. He made me feel so wanton, so sexy. His fingertips grazed my back, sending shivers along my tingling skin. He traced the lacy outline of my bra. Then his thumb brushed my stomach to my panties. “Wearing only these.”
I inhaled sharply. The thought of dancing only for him made everything inside me clench. “Okay.”
“Oh, and put on your ballet shoes.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Wicked fantasies we have. Anything else?”
He shook his head no.
I leapt off him and reached for my dance bag. He watched me from the bed as I pulled out my pointe shoes and slipped them on. Sitting on an armchair across from him, I stretched out my legs and tied the ribbons around my ankles, slowly, while he appraised me. A corner of his mouth pulled up, dark desire settling in his expression, but he didn’t move or attempt to touch me. I bit my lip, my insides squirming with anticipation. How could he make me feel so sexy, so powerful without even touching me?
I searched for the music I wanted and linked my phone to the sound system. I had danced a brief solo to an aria from La Wally last year and was pretty sure I could remember it. Wearing nothing but black lace and silk underwear and pointe shoes, I stepped into the middle of the room where I had some open space. Maria Callas’s heavenly voice filled the air, and I closed my eyes, letting the music seep into me. My body immediately knew what to do, and I dove into the variation, becoming one with the music. The piece was beautifully tragic, and it surprised me how well I remembered it. Every note vibrated through me as if the piece had been created precisely for this moment. I got lost in the melody, forgetting I was dancing practically naked and Sebastián was watching me from the bed.
I ended on the last note, and when I looked up at him, a new wave of emotion slammed through me. His eyes were moist, bright with love and admiration. Having done something that moved him that much took my breath away. I smiled broadly and he let out a heavy sigh.
“Cami, that was…the most beautiful, sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said in a hoarse, low voice.
Weightless wings fluttered in my stomach. “I’m glad,” I said, catching my breath. “I don’t do a lot of private performances.” I winked.
“Come here.” His pale eyes were suddenly afire and my blood sizzled. But…I pursed my lips.
“No.”
His eyebrows shot up. “No?”
I slowly shook my head, stifling a smile.
Before I could blink, he was on me, forgetting his aching ribs and pinning me against the wall, his hot, hard body smoldering mine. He secured my wrists over my head with one hand, then lifted my ass with the other. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he pressed his length against me. I moaned out loud, closing my eyes to savor the sensation. He ravaged my neck, his broken breaths colliding with my burning skin. Pinning me with his hips, he undid my bra at the front, trailing open-mouth kisses along my jaw. His hand moved down and slipped into my panties. I dropped my legs so he could pull them down, and I kicked them to the floor. His fingers slid between my legs and stroked my clit, moving around and around. I took a sharp breath as my insides quivered. The feeling was exquisite.
“Sebastián…” I moaned.
A low, deep growl vibrated deep in his chest. He let go of my wrists and, in two moves, undid his jeans and pulled them down with his boxers. I gasped out loud as he thrust into me, his hard, eager cock filling me. He paused to meet my hooded eyes, our mouths panting against each other as I adjusted to him. Then he
eased in and out of me with a deeper, slower rhythm, again and again. Holy shit.
“You disarm me,” he whispered in a low, husky voice as he moved inside me, never taking his eyes off mine. I climbed, following his accelerating rocking motion, letting him possess me, own me until I couldn’t hold on.
“Sebastián,” I breathed. “God.”
He slammed harder into me and groaned. I moaned out loud, gripping his shoulders as I exploded in a spiraling orgasm.
I drifted back to Earth as he gently pulled out and slid me to the floor with him. Enveloping me in his arms, he kissed my hair. “I love you, angel.”
I pressed my face against his chest, breathing him in as his heart raced against my cheek.
“And I love you. So much.”
We stayed like that for a few silent seconds, him gloriously naked, me only in pointe shoes. Our chopped breaths cut through the still vacuum of the room. Outside, the willows swayed in a sensual dance to the wind. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he stood, wincing at the pain in his ribs. A stab of anger pierced me. Goddamn Marcos.
“Let’s eat something. I’m starving,” he groaned and kissed my forehead.
“Wait. That’s it? No moment?”
“Sorry?”
“No post-mind-blowing-sex moment, where you look into my eyes and tell me you want to grow old with me?” I smirked as I reached into the dresser for one of his T-shirts, quickly sliding it over my head. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back into his arms, pressing his forehead to mine.
“Sorry. I’m an asshole.”
“I was messing with you, but your guilty face is my new favorite.” I pinched his chin and pulled away.
“Wait.” Wrapping a quick arm around my waist, he locked me against him again, then winced.
“Sebas, careful.”
“Let me take your shoes off,” he murmured seductively.
“What?”
“Come.” He took my hand and led me to the bed, then untied the ribbons of my shoes with careful diligence, caressing my legs as he did. It felt as intimate and loving as the moment we’d just had. Stinging tears threatened. I tilted my head to the side.