by Skye Warren
“I don’t—What?”
“For years, really. At first, I worried it might be reciprocal, but…” He shrugged. “It’s Drew, so he’s not going to push you into anything, but maybe it’s best not to meet with him alone. To lead him on, even unintentionally.”
Oh Lord.
He knew about Drew’s interest in me? And wanted to protect him. From me. I almost laughed.
“Anyway,” he said. “You have a business to start. When can I see this new studio?”
I considered telling him right then. What could I say? Yes, he’s had a crush on me, and it’s reciprocal, and oh by the way, we had some bad sex just now on your carpet. No.
It wasn’t just that I was worried about how he would take it. I didn’t want anyone to know yet. My relationship with Drew, whether just sex or something more lasting, was something rare and precious. If everyone knew, they would weigh in; they would change it; they might ruin it, and I couldn’t risk that.
Instead I cleared my throat. “Very soon. It needs some work before I can open.”
First, I wanted to show it to someone else.
Chapter Eight
After showering for the night, I dressed in a cotton T-shirt and yoga pants. With a duffel bag slung over my shoulder, I headed downstairs. Trying to play it cool, even though I would’ve made the worst spy in the whole world.
“Rose?”
I backed up a few steps. My brother was sitting in the library, one leg slung over the other and a book open in his lap. “It’s late,” he said. There was no censure in his tone—there didn’t need to be. He was used to having his implicit curfew obeyed, and I was used to following it.
“Just meeting a friend,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t have to lie too much to get out of here. I wanted to come clean with Philip, but later. Once Drew and I were more solid, more sure, and not when I was on my way out the door to meet him.
He frowned. “What friend?”
“An old one.”
“Why are you dressed like that?”
“We’re going to work out together.” Sex was a form of physical exercise, right? Oh, I was going to hell for this.
He seemed to consider pressing the issue, but he finally turned back to his book. “Don’t come back too late.”
I mumbled something that would hopefully pass for agreement. If the night went according to plan, I’d come back very late. The plan was very simple. To have sex. Real, regular sex where something of his got inserted into something of mine. Dancing around the issue had been fun, but every ballet needed a climax.
My ballet studio slumbered in the shadows as I drove past. Drew’s condo was only a couple turns away, which was a lovely accident. A complete coincidence, or had I once heard that he lived near Lincoln Park? Was that why this studio had seemed so enticing? But no, it was perfect all on its own. This was plain old good luck. Serendipity to sweeten the pot.
Parking was dicey in this whole neighborhood, so I ended up across the street and one block away. The hems of my yoga pants grew soggy as I hurried along the sidewalk, but what really mattered was underneath.
The doorman smiled when I told him my name. He’d been expecting me, he said. I rode the elevator to the ninth floor.
Drew grinned as he opened the door. “Hey, you.”
“Hey back. You…gonna let me in?”
His grin remained steady. “Definitely. Just savoring the moment.” He waved me inside. “Never thought I’d see the day Rose Murphy showed up at my door.”
I stopped still at the sight of a fully laid-out dining table. The table itself was small, but its dark wood surface was almost completely obscured by two elaborate place settings, candles, and a low, rectangular arrangement of carnations.
“Wow.” I looked down at my yoga pants with their soggy hems. “I feel seriously underdressed.”
He waved a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it.”
I looked dubiously at his slacks and rumpled shirt. Not a tuxedo, at least, but he clearly outshone me.
“I’m sorry, Drew. Honestly. I know I should have told him by now.”
“No, it’s okay. I understand why you haven’t yet. He’d just meddle. It’s nice to be with you…just the two of us.”
“That’s exactly it,” I said, relieved that he felt it too. The sad truth was that if he were looking for a woman with sophistication and charm, that wasn’t me. I was just Rose, the sister of Philip, the silent dancer on the stage. I still wasn’t sure what he’d found in me of value, but I had enough faith in him to know he had. With him, I was worth more than how I looked or whose blood I shared.
“Drew,” I said. “I’m not that hungry.”
“God, me neither.” His expression made the words a lie. He looked hungry…starving…dying for a sip, and I felt it too. Ragged inside, empty. Waiting for something to fill me up, and there was the hallway. His bedroom was only ten feet away. All I needed was courage.
“I have something to show you. But maybe more private.” I laughed a little, at myself. “Somewhere a little darker than this. I’m not sure I’m ready for a lit room yet.”
He didn’t laugh. His face was somber, the lines of his face traced in charcoal shadow. His eyes, though. They were full of compassion, brimming with gratitude. Trust me, and I’ll never fail you, they promised, while my heart beat with my answer. He’d always been asking, I realized, with those sexy, soulful eyes, but he’d only moved forward when the answer had changed to yes.
He took my hand and led me down the hallway. In his bedroom, he clicked on the bathroom light, lending a glow to the room. Enough to see by, as I stood in the middle. Enough to show him, as I toed off my sneakers and pushed down my pants. Years of professional dance training, but I lacked grace completely. I must have made the strangest striptease, yanking off my dumpy clothes. Hopefully the endgame would be worth it.
I stood still and allowed him to inspect me. Black lace pushed my breasts together, creating cleavage I was usually too small for. The sheer fabric of my thong rubbed against my smooth skin.
The light rained down on me, while he stood in the shade, his expression obscure.
“Is this okay?” My voice sounded anxious.
“Oh, Jesus,” he said roughly. “Are you asking me that?”
I laughed shortly. “I guess so.”
“I just need to… No. I need to stand here until I can touch you without falling all over you and… I need to make it good this time.”
“I liked it before,” I said softly. I liked watching him enjoy himself. I only wished he’d finished inside me. I wanted to hear him groan while his weight hovered over me, while his head hung beside mine, while our muscles strained together in a timeless dance.
“On the bed.”
I climbed onto the dark blue bedspread and glanced back at him. He groaned. Then he stalked toward me, shedding his clothes as he came. He left his briefs on this time. I glanced down and then up, a question in my eyes.
A brief shake of the head. No, not yet.
His hand started at my ankle, skimming the outside. Almost innocent, that touch. Wondering and kind. He felt higher, along my thigh. His hand skipped lightly over the scrap of thong at my hip, like a pebble over the water’s surface. I shivered as his hand skated over my side and ended below my breasts.
Our eyes met. In his, I saw a battle being waged. Control and wildness. Gentleness and relief.
“Take me,” I whispered, trusting him to understand. Do what you will, make me feel.
He transformed in front of me. A killing blow for whatever chivalry might have fought. His fist wrapped around my ankle, tugging me closer to the edge. The other hand spread me wide. I knew without being able to see that the black fabric did little to cover me. Especially now that it was wet.
“I should kiss you first,” he said, his voice like gravel.
I licked my lips in anticipation. At the same time, my hips lifted slightly off the bed.
His eyes flickered with heat. “La
ter. First I need to do this.”
He bent his head and pressed a kiss to the top of my mound. Chaste and sweet, yet my sex clenched, begging to be filled. He tugged the thong aside and slid his tongue between the slippery lips of my sex. I gasped at the warm contact, letting my head fall back.
His tongue worked on me, speaking silent, dirty words and painting their portraits in my head. He lashed at my clit until I cried out; then he delved lower and deeper, teasing me until I cried out again, this time in frustration. He replaced his mouth with fingers then, slipping them inside me while his tongue curled around my clit.
“Oh God. Oh please. I need…”
“What do you need?” he murmured.
“You. I need you to—”
But that was enough. He cut off my words with a well-placed flick. My body clenched up tight, my legs locking straight, my hands clinging to the bedspread as if it could moor me. The orgasm was a soft and pleasant relief, like a warm summer’s rain on my naked, upturned skin.
He wasn’t satisfied. His tongue continued at almost the same rhythm, the same urgent intensity, and my body was too willing to follow. My hips rocked against his mouth, obeying his tune, no longer my own. I was reduced to nothing but moans and sighs, the climb of my arousal and the clench as he withheld. Then his fingers found a place inside me, one that made my back arch up and a high cry fall from my lips. I came again, harder this time, and sweeter.
“Almost there,” he promised.
Oh God, I’d die before he got there, wherever that was. But he wasn’t asking for permission. The cautious, solicitous Drew had been left behind at the beautifully arranged table with its candles and flowers. This was the rest of him, feral and insatiable. He licked and sucked at me like he was desperate for every drop of me. I wasn’t even sure he was aware of my pleasure in this, except that I felt my climax grow again. Impossibly, again. My thighs shook with the strain, my vision went fuzzy. I sobbed something, his name, a plea, and then I felt wetness flow over his fingers and bed as I came again.
My sex was still throbbing with the echoes of my orgasm as he quickly rolled on a condom.
“Hands on the bed,” he said.
At the sternness of his tone, I put my hands at my side.
He softened, but only slightly. “Another time, you can have free rein. Tie me to the bed and do what you want to me. But I need to do this right, need to feel you coming around my cock. Need to feel you wet and hot against my balls. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
My lips were parted…in surprise, in desire. I clenched my hands in the bedspread. He wanted me to stay still and take it. He wanted permission to well and truly fuck me.
I met his gaze. “Please,” I said.
He was on top of me, inside me. I gasped at the fullness, but there wasn’t even time to be properly shocked. He pounded into me so hard I was forced to relinquish my anchor and hold on to him instead. I grasped his shoulders, and he rewarded me with a groan. His body slammed against mine, both cruel and entirely generous. His harsh breaths were a beautiful music in my ear, an aria I could listen to all night if he would play it for me. But he was more thoughtful than I’d given him credit for, more talented too. He shifted slightly, and his cock found a new angle inside me. The same one he’d found with his fingers earlier, the one that made me arch and strangle a cry. He sought out my mouth with his, fusing our lips together while our bodies dueled in a sensual violence below. The tension inside me built. It strung up tight until I couldn’t breathe.
“Fuck, yes,” he groaned. “Come on me. Let me feel it.”
My body helplessly obeyed. I clenched around him, releasing more wetness just as he’d promised. A choked sound escaped him. He held my shoulder with one hand, my waist with the other. Pinned me to the bed and ground against me, rocking through his climax with an agonized groan.
Even after he finished, he remained inside me. His cock flexed, and my sex rippled around him. In my delirium, I imagined a conversation. Body language. That was fun. Yes, let’s do it again. As if he’d heard it too, he laughed.
“I’m not ready yet,” he said. “But soon.”
He rolled off and lay beside me, keeping hold of my hand. He tugged my hand to him and kissed my knuckles.
“Come on. You didn’t even get to eat the chocolate torte I planned to seduce you with.”
My stomach rumbled, and I laughed.
“That’s it,” he said. “Dinner first. Then chocolate torte. It can still serve its purpose.”
“Okay,” I agreed. I turned to face him, an irrepressible grin on my face. “But let’s both be underdressed this time. No clothes.”
“Jesus, you’re perfect.”
Chapter Nine
The studio was nestled in a row of businesses, tucked behind a small courtyard. The area was relatively safe—I had no doubt it would be safer once Philip found out about it. No doubt he would call in favors at the police station for increased patrols, just like he’d done in Colin’s neighborhood.
My real estate agent and I had done a walk-through and signed the lease that afternoon. I stopped by home—well, Philip’s home anyway, which wouldn’t be my home as soon as basic renovations were complete. I filled a canvas tote bag to the brim with paint and fabric swatches, sneaking in basic toiletries in case I decided to spend the night there.
Or at Drew’s condo.
As I drove back to the studio, rain began to fall in fat drops on the windshield. I slowed down once I turned off the highway. Light from the streetlamps and signage bounced off slick surfaces, creating a dark, glittery cavern. I passed the storefronts where the coffee shop next door was spilling over with a mix of college kids gearing up for the night and tired execs grabbing a latte so they could make it through the bedtime routine. Everyone was huddled against the chilly rain, dashing between their cars and the overhang in front of the shops.
I pulled around to the small parking garage behind the building and slid one of the automatic cards into the slot. The gate lifted, and I found a safe, dry spot inside. Smiling, I slipped the spare key into the bag. Maybe I’d give it to Drew when we met. If it didn’t seem too forward, too presumptuous.
Though I didn’t think so. Things were moving fast but right on track. And maybe not so fast if I considered the years he’d spent waiting for me to be ready—when I’d been waiting for that too.
I spent the next hour taking measurements of the walls and the windows for the renovations, big and small, that I would do. The upstairs was mostly unfinished and, I was disheartened to realize, would take more work to turn into a living space than I had thought. Maybe I should snag an apartment nearby and leave this as a break room. And we’d need a staging room for costumes at some point. I’d ask Drew when he showed up.
My phone vibrated on the bare tiled floor, the glow lit with four letters.
“Hey, you.”
“Sorry I’m running late. Work ran over.” I could hear the swish-swish of the wipers in the background.
“Tell Philip you get to leave early now that you’re dating his sister.”
“I don’t think that would go over so well, but I’m glad you told him about the studio.”
“He didn’t freak out.”
“He won’t freak out about us either.” At my silence, he amended, “I’d deal with him if he did.”
“I’ll tell him soon, I promise. How far are you?”
“One minute. I already stopped by my place. I wanted to…well, I guess you’ll figure it out at some point. I wanted to pick up a little in case I lured you back there.”
Something warmed inside me that he had planned to ask me to stay the night with him—and that he cared what I thought of his place. “So you’re a bit of a slob, is what you’re telling me.”
“A consummate bachelor,” he confirmed. “You’ll have to beat it out of me, I’m afraid.”
“I know I’ve told you I’m not into the kinky stuff.”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.
I’ve been told I have an ass that turns a lovely shade of red.”
I laughed, blushing until I was sure my cheeks were a similar color.
“We’ll only do what you’re comfortable with. I can promise you that, Rose.”
“I liked what we did last time. I’m not sure how much further I can really go…or what else is out there.”
He was quiet a moment, and I heard shifting in the car. “I didn’t just mean sex. I mean us. I’m serious about being with you. I’m serious about you, Rose.”
My eyes fell shut. I wasn’t sure I could get the words out—but I didn’t know the right ones anyway. There was only a mass of desire that had little to do with physical acts, kinky or otherwise. I wanted him with an intensity that stole my breath and roused a fear that I would somehow lose him. Invisible arms waited in the wings to snatch away the things I wanted most.
“You don’t believe me?” he asked quietly.
“I believe you,” I said slowly. “I guess I can’t believe I actually have you, that I deserve you. It’s all so quick.”
I heard the smile in his voice. “Sweetheart, I’ve been waiting for you to come around for years. If this is your idea of quick, I’d hate to see you take it slow.”
I grinned. “Ah, but that’s all going to change tonight. I only need to spend a few more minutes here, and then we can head out. There’s a cabinet that’s too high for me to reach properly, and I wanted to ask you a question about renovating the upstairs. Then we have the rest of the night to…speed up.”
“Okay, hang tight.” The tick-tick-tick sound of a turn signal interrupted him. “I’m just parking, and I’ll be over.”
Curious, I wandered to the window, which was free of blinds or curtains. His silver Lexus was backing into a spot across the street, the red-and-yellow brake lights blurring in the rain. I put my fingers to the cool window as I’d done that first night. Back then, it had seemed like this was as close as we’d ever get, watching through the glass.
