* * *
By the time Jasmine pulled the car into the studio’s parking lot her ankle was burning. She pushed herself from the seat, balancing on her good leg. The walk to the studio door seemed to take for ever as she alternated between limping and hopping. All the while she cursed herself for not bringing the crutches Dr Wilson had lent her.
‘What are you doing here?’ Elise abandoned her choreography midstep to admonish Jasmine as she hobbled into the studio.
‘I couldn’t stay at home, El. I was going crazy.’ She hopped in a pitiful little circle. ‘See? I’m fine.’
Elise shook her head but she didn’t argue. ‘I’ll get you a chair.’
Dragging one from the reception desk, she placed it at the front of the studio. Grateful, Jasmine dropped down and settled in to watch the class.
* * *
As they were wrapping up Jasmine noticed Grant had arrived for his lesson. Given her state of relative immobility—not that she was allowing herself to be confined by it—Elise had offered to cover her lessons for the week without taking any money. Lucky, since Jasmine was walking a fine line between making ends meet and having her phone cut off.
Grant walked into the studio and came straight up to Jasmine. Lines creased his forehead and his strong jaw was set into a forbidding angle.
‘You’re supposed to be resting.’ He stood over her, arms folded across his chest so that his biceps bulged beneath his T-shirt. His full lips pursed into a shape far more appealing than it should have been, given he was admonishing her as one might a child.
Jasmine shrugged. ‘It’s boring.’
He tilted his head to one side and gave her an impatient look. ‘That’s a pretty weak excuse.’
‘Consider yourself lucky you got one at all.’
He sighed. ‘You should be resting.’
‘You said that already.’
They stared at one another, the air crackling between them. Part of Jasmine knew he was right, but the other part wanted to give him a kick in the shins for being so bossy. Since he’d rejected her advance the other night she knew the smart move would be to push him away.
‘When you two are done I’ll start the lesson.’ Elise stood in the middle of the studio with her hands on her hips.
She pulled a stern face but Jasmine could see the amused smile twitching on the edge of her lips.
‘Wait around and I’ll take you home afterwards.’ He turned to meet Elise.
‘My car is here,’ she protested. ‘I don’t need you to chauffeur me around.’
‘It wasn’t a question.’
* * *
Grant knew he was pushing the boundaries with Jasmine, but the girl didn’t seem to want to take care of herself. She had a self-destructive streak that unnerved him—probably because he’d seen that same capacity in himself. And learning she was the one who’d caused her accident had only made him more certain she needed someone to look after her. Elise seemed to keep an eye out, but he doubted that was enough.
When he’d gone through the kitchen cupboards at her house he’d noticed how bare they were: a whole lot of tea and coffee, a few muesli bars and some limp-looking fruit and veggies in her fridge. Not the kind of nutrition required for someone who had a physical job like she did.
She sighed, but didn’t make a move to leave. Instead she stayed in the chair and watched as Elise began her instruction.
He was finding it difficult to concentrate on Elise’s voice because his mind kept wandering to Jasmine. She watched them with an open interest, and he felt the weight of her stare on his shoulders. He was messing up the steps and growing increasingly frustrated with the exercises.
The lesson was a disaster. In truth, he was completely over the ballet treatment thing, but something urged him to continue...and it wasn’t the benefits his hamstring was seeing.
‘Tough lesson?’ Jasmine asked as he came up to her afterwards. Her head tilted to the side, sending dark, glossy hair slipping over her shoulder. She looked delectable, even free of make-up and dressed in jeans and a grey sweater.
‘Tough when you were staring me down.’
‘I wasn’t staring you down.’ She laughed, pushing up onto her good leg. ‘You seem to get off on the knight in shining armour thing, so I’ll let you take me home tonight but that’s it. Tomorrow I go back to looking after myself, OK?’
‘We’ll see,’ he grumbled. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him so he could help her to the door.
‘I am going to remind you that this is completely unnecessary,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘I drove myself here.’
‘Just because you did doesn’t mean you should have.’
Her body fitted perfectly against his, and it was tough for him not to notice that as she made a lame attempt to get rid of him. As she hopped her shoulder bumped against him, her hand tightening around his lower back. It was all he needed to imagine where else he’d like those hands to be on him...smoothing over his chest, cupping his ass and—
‘Good night, you two.’
Elise’s sing-song voice caused Jasmine to turn around and glare at her friend. Her cheeks coloured to a faint pink, making his pulse race even more.
‘You know I’m going to have to come back here in the morning and collect the car.’ Jasmine sighed as he helped her out of the studio and towards the Mercedes.
‘I’ll have it brought to your unit.’ He wasn’t going to let her make her way home on her own—not with an injured foot on these icy roads. If something happened to her he would never forgive himself.
Grant frowned. He wasn’t sure what it was about Jasmine that was stirring all these protective instincts. The only woman he’d ever cared to protect had been Chelsea, and look how that had turned out.
‘OK, fine.’
He held the door open for her and she slid awkwardly into his car. When he was satisfied she was OK he walked around to the driver’s side and got in. Firing up the engine, he let the car warm up before backing it out.
‘So what’s the deal with you wanting to look after me?’ Jasmine watched him closely as she questioned him, her eyes narrowed slighly. ‘Do you have some compelling need to protect women you barely know?’
‘I know you.’
She paused for a moment. ‘No, you don’t.’
‘Yes, I do.’ He glanced sideways at her. ‘I know you’re a great dancer who’s trapped because of a stupid mistake.’
‘I don’t know if my most recent performance would allow anyone to classify me as a great dancer.’ She bit down on her lower lip.
‘I know you like to be in control and you hate asking for help. I know that Elise is pretty much the only person you have in your life.’
Jasmine blinked, her eyebrows arched. ‘OK, so maybe you know me a bit.’
‘I studied psychology at university, remember? I can read people.’
‘So what are you reading now?’
‘You’re testing me, although I’m not sure why.’ Grant forced away a smile at her open-mouthed surprise, though he could hardly claim much achievement in accurately assessing her—reading her face was as easy as reading a book.
‘OK, that’s kind of freaky.’
‘Why don’t you fill in the blanks, then?’
‘I don’t know why I’d do that,’ she said, her voice small. She was looking out of the window, avoiding him. ‘I’m not ready for this. But I can’t seem to push you away... I don’t think I want to.’
The honesty of her statement was a fist to his stomach. She felt the same way he did. They were two people who knew better, who were smart, who protected themselves from all the crap that life threw at them. Yet neither of them could resist the gravitational pull when they were together. It relieved him to know that she felt it too.
&nbs
p; ‘I don’t know what I’m doing,’ she continued. ‘But I can’t stop wanting to touch you, wanting to taste you.’
His lips ran dry at her last statement, his tongue heavy in his mouth as he steadied his breath. His blood seemed to pulse twice as fast as he looked at her, his flickering glance capturing the flush of her pale skin under the streetlamps. The arousal he’d been fighting pooled in his groin and desire wrenched inside him.
‘It’s strange, I haven’t felt this kind of attraction to anyone in a long time...not since the accident.’
‘Why are you telling me all this?’
‘I thought you wanted to know.’
The uncertainty in her voice almost broke him in two. He wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be OK.
‘I do.’
‘It must be your psychology voodoo.’
‘Yeah, that must be it.’
He laughed and she offered up a small smile. It was like a peek of sunshine through storm clouds—a sliver of hope against the grey backdrop of her fear.
Neither of them spoke while they lost themselves in their thoughts. They were both damaged goods, victims of broken hearts, and casualties of laying yourself bare to another human being.
He’d promised himself he would never go there again, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the way she awakened him. She stirred the old Grant—the one who loved without fear. He felt a spark of his former self, the wide-eyed kid from the country who’d wanted to study psychology because he had a burning to desire to help people, to know more about them, to unravel them until he understood what made them tick. It was a part of him long dead and buried.
Now he pushed people away as a default. But she made him want to reach out again. She made him want to crawl out of his cave.
‘What happened wasn’t your fault.’ His voice cracked as he tried to console her.
‘Yes, it was.’ She nodded, the look of resignation on her face one he suspected she’d worn many times before. ‘I drank the champagne, I got into the car and I hit the accelerator. That makes it my fault.’
‘I don’t mean that.’ He shook his head. ‘I mean the way he treated you. That wasn’t your fault.’
‘I used him as much as he used me.’ She laughed, the sound hollow and sharp in his ears. ‘He used me because he liked having a pretty thing on his arm, and I liked him because he got me more face-time with directors.’
‘I’m sure you didn’t need it.’
‘I didn’t,’ she said, her voice wavering. ‘But I was so insecure back then, and I didn’t realise he’d been feeding me lies to keep me close to him. He made me believe that I wasn’t able to make it on my own, that I wouldn’t succeed without his help.’
Her mouth drew into a grim line. Her regret was palpable in the air.
Grant pulled up in front of her house and turned off the engine. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, looking down so that all he could see were the tops of the dark curly lashes that framed them. In a moment of impulse he reached out and cupped her cheeks with his hands. They seemed so large in comparison to her small, delicate features.
‘Look at me,’ he commanded.
Her eyes flickered up and they sat there for a moment, unmoving in the darkness of the car. He knew he shouldn’t, he knew it was the wrong thing to do by her...by them both...but that didn’t stop the intensity with which he brought his lips down to hers.
There was nothing tentative about his kiss, no gentle exploring of her. It was hungry and raw. It took her a moment to respond, but when she did it was with equal fervour. Her small rosebud mouth opened up to him, her tongue meeting his. He could taste the honeyed sweetness of her, smell the faded soap on her skin.
His senses sparked and flared as he drank her in: taste, smell, touch...and sound. A small moan escaped her mouth when he ran his hand down from her face to her shoulders, down her arms, grazing her breasts as he went. The soft fabric of her sweater showed no resistance to his touch.
Outside the car a dog barked and the lights of a lone car passing by broke them apart. The car was cooling down and Jasmine shivered next to him.
‘Let me get you inside.’ His voice was hoarse, barely recognisable through the haze of lust that roughened its edges.
Jasmine nodded. Her lips were puffy from the roughness of his kiss, her cheeks pink, her eyes wide. She opened the door but waited for him to help her, for once. He darted around to the passenger side and reached down to help her out of the car. She gripped his arm and steadied herself on her good foot as she rose slowly from the low seat on the passenger side.
Sliding an arm around her waist, he leant down and kissed her again. Her back pressed against the car, his hips pinning her down. He found her mouth, hot and ready for him this time. Hands came to his hair; her fingers tangling in the lengths of it, tugging it. Showing him that he wasn’t in charge.
Though she came close to matching him in height, she still felt tiny next to him. Her long, slender arms and graceful dancer’s legs were easily pinned down by his strength, though as she pressed against him now he knew that she wouldn’t be delicate in bed.
He swallowed and pulled away, looking down at her soulful brown eyes as they glowed at him from under the streetlamp. Her lips were parted and she dragged her bottom lip between her teeth. He knew where this was going.
This was his last chance; he could turn away now and protect her. He could protect his heart from being shattered again. He felt as if time was standing still as he deliberated, his head pulling him away and his body pushing him closer.
He should leave. She deserved someone who could take better care of her than he could...
‘Grant...’ she whispered, and his name sounded like a plea on her lips. ‘Take me inside. Please.’
And with that the very last scraps of his resolve were shattered. He scooped her up and she immediately wound her arms around his neck—no protest this time. In a few strides he crossed the front yard and set her down so that she could open the front door. He hugged her from behind while she fiddled with the lock, his hands slipping under the hem of her jumper to find the bare skin of her belly. It was smooth and flat, her skin hot to the touch despite the cold outside.
The door finally opened and she limped inside with him close behind her, pulling the door shut. The unit was cold. Jasmine turned on the heater from a panel in the entrance.
‘We don’t need that,’ he said, coming up behind her and bringing his lips down to her neck.
She simmered beneath him, her hips tilting backwards so that she could press her ass against him.
‘It’s going to get hot in here.’
NINE
Grant reached for Jasmine and scooped her up. She felt slightly ridiculous, with him carrying her everywhere, but as his mouth met hers again she lost herself in the velvet warmth of his kiss.
‘Which way?’ He murmured his question against her lips.
She motioned to the bedroom, her response muffled against him. He nudged the door open with his foot, carrying her through before setting her gently down in front of him. She balanced on one foot and encircled his neck with her arms, dragging him down for another searing kiss.
A snake-like sensation twisted and turned in her gut. It had been so long since she’d had sex—not since breaking up with Kyle, though his frequent infidelities had meant their sex life had died a while before that fateful night.
What if she’d forgotten how to seduce? How to pleasure? How to enjoy her body?
She ignored the fluttering of her heart and the prickling of her palms. She needed this—she needed to be loved in a physical sense. She’d been deprived for so long and there would be no fighting it.
Leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his mouth, she sucked in a breath. Her tongue brushed over his lower lip in a sweet, tentative s
troke, eliciting a groan. She had him right where she wanted him, so hungry with desire he was unlikely to notice or care about her leg.
He grasped the hem of her sweater and pulled it up slowly. Her T-shirt followed and then she was wearing only her jeans and the lacy blush-pink bra she’d thought nothing of wearing that morning. It looked sensual against her skin; she’d always had a thing for beautiful lingerie and her drawers were filled with a rainbow of lacy, frilly French things. It seemed he too enjoyed them—his eyes drank her in as though she were the proverbial glass of water on a hot summer’s day.
‘I don’t expect anything out of this.’ Her voice shook as he traced the scalloped edge of the bra with his fingertip.
‘Me neither.’
‘I mean, I’m not looking for anything permanent right now.’
He dragged his gaze away from her breasts, the endless depths of his sky-blue eyes drawing her in and yet telling her nothing. His face was unreadable except for the arousal that widened his pupils, simmering below the surface.
‘Nor am I.’
‘One night only,’ she whispered, knowing full well that words alone couldn’t protect her. She was in too deep and her heart was desperately trying to maintain the distance that her body was unable to. But the words were hollow. Meaningless. He was under her skin and one night would never be enough.
‘No one gets hurt.’ He brushed the edge of her jaw with his hand, tilting her face.
‘No one gets hurt,’ she echoed.
Grant’s hands dropped to her waist, undoing the zip on her jeans, and then he was bending down, dragging the denim with him as he went. Her French knickers in baby-blue cotton were trimmed with the same blush-pink lace as her bra.
He sighed, and the slow whoosh of breath tickled the exposed skin of her thighs. He traced a line of kisses along the edge of her underwear, sending goosebumps rippling across her skin. She removed her sneakers and leant on him, stepping out of her jeans gingerly to avoid putting too much pressure on her sprained ankle. He reached for the top of the knee-high white cotton socks she wore to keep her legs warm...and to hide the scars.
Only the Brave Try Ballet Page 11
