Beautiful Deep

by Jordyn White

  She follows effortlessly, her hand resting on my shoulder. Her brows are raised though, and she’s smiling. “You know how to waltz!”

  “Are you surprised?”

  I spin her gently, the fabric of her skirt flaring out. I bring her back in and she answers. “Yes. Though I don’t know why. You know how to do everything else.”

  “Not true. But you don’t get to be the child of Grant and Sharon Rivers without knowing how to dance.”

  “What other dances do you know?”

  “Foxtrot. Salsa. West Coast.” I keep going down the list, and with each dance I name, her smile widens and her eyes light up a little more.

  “You’ve been holding out on me. We have to do all of them. Tonight.”

  I chuckle. “Anything you want.”

  Literally. Anything she wants.

  We circle around the edge of the dance floor, and I’m grateful my parents taught me how to showcase a woman like this. She’s a stunning beauty, drawing the eyes everyone we pass. She has no idea the attention she captures, or the admiration she inspires. That’s part of what I love about her. She’s confident without being cocky, appreciative of fine things without demanding them, down-to-earth without being afraid to rise up.

  As we finish the dance, I pull her into my arms, nuzzle against her ear, and whisper, “You look amazing.”

  It’s not what I want to say, but I’m not going to alarm her with the L-word again.

  I feel her smile against my cheek. “So do you. I thought you looked good in a suit, but in a tux?”

  She makes a cute little growling sound and I pull back, laughing. I lead her toward our table, and give her ass a little slap. “You saucy woman, you.”

  She’s laughing, too. “Is that what you love about me?”

  “I love everything about you.”

  Ah well. I tried.

  She blushes and gives me a tentative smile. I wink and start telling her the highlights on the menu, wanting to take the pressure off her. I see that same wondering on her face I saw before. She doesn’t know if I’m teasing. I’ll let her know I’m dead serious when I’m ready to take that chance. But I have never in my life said those words without meaning them, and never once to anyone I’m not related to by blood or marriage.

  I never imagined something like this could happen so quickly, or that the words could come so effortlessly. I’ve felt sort of close to being in love once or twice before, I hoped anyway, but it was never enough to tip me over the edge. With Emma, I’ve gone careening over.

  I only pray she catches up to me, and doesn’t let me crash on the bottom.

  When we get to our seats, I spot my phone lying on the table and my heart jumps into my throat. I manage not to dive for it. I pull out Emma’s chair and get her comfortable first, but there’s a slight tremor in my hand when I reach for it. I can’t help it. I’m never away from my phone this long. I just wasn’t thinking about it.

  “Sorry,” I say as calmly as I can. I glance at Emma before entering in my unlock code. She’s giving me an understanding smile. Guess I haven’t fooled her at all.

  My home page comes up and I scan the icons. No voice mails. No missed calls. Two text messages.

  I touch the icon and force myself to breathe. My blood pressure starts to drop the second I see who they’re from. There’s one from Taylor Norrell and one from Lynda, who I completely forgot I asked to be my date for Lizzy’s wedding.

  When I’d asked her, she said she wouldn’t know for a while if she was free due to a pending work commitment. I was more than happy to delay wrapping up that particular detail, then promptly forgot all about it. Now she’s telling me she’s free and “delighted” to accompany me.

  “Well, that’s not happening.” I’ll have to call her and cancel.

  “Everything okay at home?”

  “Home? Oh, yes. Yes, these are...” I can’t resist the urge to tap on Taylor’s latest message so I can give it a quick scan. She’s only ever sent emails. Did I even give her my private number?

  Taylor: Since you’re ignoring my emails. Last chance.

  Last chance for what? She’s never even asked for anything. True, I haven’t responded, or even consulted with our lawyer, which I maybe need to man up and do. But I’m starting to think this woman is seriously unhinged. As I recall I got a weird vibe off of her when we were “together”, too.

  I look at Emma, her expectant face waiting for me to finish my sentence. She’s so trusting. And though I’ve shared a lot with her, I’m reminded that there’s something I’m hiding.

  Something Emma will care about.

  A nervous vibration settles into my chest. How much is she going to care? When I finally tell her, will I be able to make her understand that that man was not the best version of me? Will she take me as who I am now, or will her own past make that impossible once she knows?

  I can’t think about that right now. Instead, I tell her about the second text. “This is from a woman who I had asked to go to Lizzy’s wedding with me.”

  Emma’s eyebrows slowly raise and she straightens, her hands drifting to her lap. “I see.”

  “This was before we got together. It was after, um...”

  She raises her lovely eyebrows further.

  “After I first kissed you and you told me to get lost.”

  “Ah.”

  “The next day at the family dinner, the topic of came up and I told Lizzy I’d make a decision and Lynda’s card came up.”

  “Her card?”

  I give her a sheepish grin and scratch the back of my neck. “I thought I blew it with you, but I didn’t want to go with anyone else either. So I took three options, assigned them a suit, and let the next card my cousin drew in gin make the decision.”

  I wait in silence as she blinks at me with big doe eyes. Maybe I don’t have to tell her about my past transgressions to give her a reason to walk. This could’ve done it all by itself.

  But she throws her head back and laughs. “Seriously? Oh, poor Rayce. So many women to choose from.”

  “Laugh all you want, but it wasn’t funny. You think I want to spend all evening with Miss...” I gesture at my phone impatiently, “Too Good for the Universe?”

  “Hmmm,” she says, still smiling and opening the menu. “I’m sure it’ll be torture.”

  I watch her for a minute. Does she really think I’m still going through with it? Would she be all right with it if I did? She’s acting like it’s amusing her, but if what’s happening between us means this little to her, I’m in trouble.

  I need this woman to care.

  I examine her closer. Her eyes are on the menu. Her posture is poised and in control. But I spot that little vein at the base of her neck fluttering in agitation. I exhale and unclench.

  “Emma.” There’s no humor in my voice and her eyes fly to mine immediately. Such beautiful clear, blue eyes.

  So open and vulnerable. Thank god she cares.

  “It’s not happening.”

  Her face relaxes slightly, but she’s still watching me expectantly.

  “Honestly, I forgot all about her.” I lean forward slightly. “You’ve been a little all-consuming.”

  A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah?”

  I nod slowly, still holding her eyes. “You’re the one I want to go with.”

  Her cheeks turn a pleased shade of pink. “Really?”

  “Of course.”

  “When is it?”

  “Three weeks.”

  “Well, how are we going to do that? What if I don’t have another job by then?”

  “We’ll figure something out. Or if worse comes to worst I’ll just go stag. But I’m not going with anyone else, that’s for sure.”

  She smiles, relaxing even more. “So, I’m not going to be the Paris wife?”

  I cock my head at her. “The Paris wife? As in Benjamin Franklin?”

  “Right,” she nods, slipping into playful mode. “Like, the respectable wife is the o
ne you take to family affairs and the Paris wife is the one you have on the side.”

  This again? No, no, no. Job or no, I clearly need to get our relationship out in the open as soon as possible so this precious woman has no reason to doubt where she stands with me. “Emma, if you talk about yourself like that one more time, I swear to god I’m going to bend you over my lap and spank you.”

  Her eyebrows fly upward and her mouth goes slack.

  Oh, the things I want her to do with that mouth.

  She slowly smiles and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “That hardly seems like a punishment, Mr. Rivers.”

  Chapter 37

  Emma

  It’s past midnight, and we’re still awake. We’re lounging on the bed in the most luxurious hotel bedroom I’ve ever been in. Our suite has a living room and another bedroom as well, but we’ve spent most of our time in this room.

  Rayce is propped up against the headboard, in nothing but his boxers, and I’m leaning against his chest. I’m in panties and one of his white button-down shirts. It’s big and comforting and carries his smell. I want to take it home with me.

  His tablet is balanced on his lap and he’s pulled up YouTube so he can watch a clip of the LA Ballet Troupe’s performance of The Firebird.

  Back when I was prima.

  It’s always a little surreal, watching myself on a screen, especially now. I can see how thin I was, for one thing. Far too thin, really. I remember how badly I wanted the line that kind of body created, and it’s a desire that seems so distant from me now that it’d be a struggle to summon it up again.

  Aside from that, watching myself on a tiny screen is a different experience than the actual performance. Of course. But as I’m watching, memories of performing this particular dance pop up in little bursts. A flash of stage lights here. A vision of the ensemble surrounding me there. Spinning again and again, spotting Aaron’s face as I turn.

  Yes, he’s in it, too. Those were the days. Back before he left it all for the love of his life and started over again in Swan Pointe.

  And just what would I do for the love of my life?

  I pull my eyes from the screen and watch Rayce’s profile. He’s completely engrossed. I’ve seen it before. That’s the look we dancers strive to inspire in the audience: complete awe. He’s even breathing shallowly, too taken to remember to really breathe.

  My heart pulses with pride unlike any I’ve experienced before. I’m no stranger to pride. I know I was good and I’d be lying if I tried to claim otherwise. I worked damn hard for years and years to learn how to captivate an audience like that.

  But to captivate him?

  It’s otherworldly.

  When the clip ends he stares at it for a minute, then recaptures his breath and exhales slowly. “Damn,” he whispers.

  I smile.

  He looks at me with, I do believe, new eyes. “Damn, Emma,” he says again.

  I reach up and give him a kiss. “Thank you.”

  He groans and settles in deeper, looking at the screen with longing. “And to think, I missed my chance to see you live.”

  A familiar energy flows through my body.

  Now I’m the one holding my breath. I can’t believe I’m going to do this.

  On the exhale, I pop up, climbing over his legs, padding across the thick carpet and heading for the large, open area between the bed and the terrace. Only in a place like this does such a large space exist for its own sake.

  On the wall opposite the bed, there’s a massive mirror inside an intricately-carved wooden frame that we’ve joked is there to give the visually-inclined a little extra pizazz during their love making sessions.

  At least, it’s been a source of extra pizazz for ours. The sight of myself on my knees, his hands on the back of my head with his own thrown back. Yeah, it wasn’t too fucking bad.

  But now it strikes me that this mirror, which extends almost to the floor, is the perfect size for checking body, position, lines.

  I allow myself to really see my own reflection. His white shirt comes to my upper thighs, and the sleeves are rolled up to my forearms. My legs are tanner than they used to be, thanks to some actual time in the sun, but they are still strong thanks to my workouts.

  As if I’ve still been training.

  But what really strikes me is my face. I’m glowing.

  I’ve only ever seen that kind of glow on other people. I didn’t know it was possible to see it on myself. I know exactly what it’s from.

  It’s from him. And the prospect of dancing for him, for however brief a time. It’s from the two things I love most coming together in this one moment.

  I turn to face him. I am going to dance for him. I am going to show him my body and my heart and share it with him openly and truly.

  “Start the music.”

  Chapter 38

  Rayce

  I thought I knew what it was like to watch Emma move.

  I didn’t.

  The video did not prepare me for this. She is in control of every inch of her body. From her muscular legs and strong body all the way to the length of her fingers and the tips of her toes. There is not one millimeter of her body that is not a perfectly controlled expression of movement and wonder.

  I have no idea if her choreography matches what’s happening on the screen. I’m not watching it. I’m vaguely aware of the fact that she has to be adapting to the space and the surface and to the fact that she’s dancing alone.

  But she is a vision of fluidity, grace, and wonder. I’m leaning forward, drawn to her. She keeps her eyes on mine, and dances for me in such a way that I do not feel like an observer. I am a participant. And she’s drawing me into her.

  She leaps and lands softly, and my heart leaps with her. She spins and I am dizzy with it.

  I cannot take my eyes off her.

  I don’t know how long it goes on, but I don’t move an inch and barely breathe the entire time. When the music stops, she ends with a pose that is at once delicate and sensual. She’s partially turned from me, but looking at me over her shoulder.

  She holds my eyes in an intense gaze, her lips turning up at the corners. It is a smoldering gaze that draws me in.

  I’m off the bed.

  She drops the pose and turns toward me, the ballerina gone but the astounding woman still there.

  “You were stunning,” I say, cupping her face and bringing my mouth to hers. She responds to me instantly, her arms coming around my bare waist and her amazing body curving inward against mine. All I can think about is how lucky I am that I should be privileged enough to hold this incredible woman.

  “That was so fantastic.”

  Words. There are no words.

  I was just going to give her a kiss. I didn’t intend to pounce on her. But as usual, we’re feeding into each other. She’s pressing into me, her mouth softening and yielding beneath mine, her embrace tightening. I’m still swirling with the effects of watching her perform, of seeing the true core of her soul.

  I hadn’t seen it all of it before now.

  I sweep my tongue over hers, clutch her body against me, inhale the heady scent of floral and citrus. I’m almost painfully erect, my body yearning to connect with her as much as my heart is.

  We’re soon tumbling to the floor, her long legs wrapped around me as we take each other in pulsing gasps.

  “That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” I say, tasting her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. She softens beneath me, her head tilting back, her fingers clutching my bare back.

  I slide my hand up her soft side, slipping underneath the ballooning fabric of my shirt. I cup her breast and she exhales a hot breath in my ear.

  “You’re so amazing. I love you so goddamned much, you’re making me crazy.”

  She exhales again, her warm breath against my neck. “I love you, too.”

  I pull back, my heart thumping painfully against my chest. “You do?” I didn’t mean to sound so vulnerable, but she is the one
thing in the world I need. I need her to need me, too. This can’t end. Not ever.

  She runs one gentle hand down my cheek. “So much it scares me.”

  I clutch the side of her face. “Say it again.”

  Her soft blue eyes look directly in mine. “I love you. I do. I don’t care if it’s crazy.”

  “It’s not crazy,” I say, resting my forehead against hers. “It’s magic.”

  We meld together again, our tongues exploring softer now. Every move I make is to tell her how precious she is to me. Every move of her body and caressing touch delivers the same in return.

  When I enter her, we’re floating somewhere in space, one unit of sensation and pleasure and adoration.

  Her rapid, short breaths warm my ear and I cradle the back of her head. “So good,” she whispers, her core tightening around me. “You feel so good.”

  I suck on the sweet nectar of her neck, making her tremble and arch beneath me. “So do you, sweetheart.” She feels more than good.

  She feels like a drug. Like nirvana. Like the purpose of life.

  Chapter 39

  Emma

  I’m melting right into the floor. The only thing keeping me in solid form is the feel of Rayce’s firm body heavy on mine, his strong hand cupping my head, and the intensity in his voice.

  “I’m so in love with you,” he says, almost desperate. “What do I do?”

  “Make me yours.”

  But he already owns me, inside and out. There’s no emerging from this without him, not intact.

  He brings me more firmly into his embrace and everything else disappears. It is only he and I, in each other’s arms, in this moment of shared ecstasy. Forever.

  I’m rising and rising, my body a quivering mass of pleasure and he’s rising with me. I feel it. I feel him. Then it’s a joint release that lifts me to a plane of existence I didn’t know was possible.

  He really loves me.