Though the banging was quite a thrill.
“I will,” he promised, leaning back and kissing my knee. “I’m planning on spending the entire day in bed.” His teeth grazed my thigh and I shuddered. “We need to eat, though. Keep our strength up.” Winking, he slid from the bed, opening the wardrobe and pulling out a t-shirt and boxer shorts. “What would you like to eat?”
“What have you got?” Sitting up, I held the blankets around me, breathing in the scent they held of him and I together.
“I can make waffles, French toast, eggs, hash browns; whatever you want, basically.” Now dressed, he walked to the kitchen, the scars on his legs seeming to stretch over his muscles with ease.
“Quite the chef,” I remarked, watching him happily as I thought of how he looked without any clothes at all.
He was still beautiful to me, scars and all. He’d met his demons and fought back. Now he carried the marks of a triumph that not many people made. And he’d cared enough to share them with me.
“When you don’t go out a lot, you learn to cook for yourself,” he said, laughing. “Cold cereal and spaghetti get boring after a few weeks.”
“You have to go out sometimes,” I added, a question suddenly forming in my mind. “Every night, actually. Otherwise you and I never would have met.”
“This is true.” Turning to look at me, he leaned against the counter, folding his arms. “I work as the night janitor at UD. I don’t leave the house until after dark, always in my hoodie so I can cover my face. I keep to myself on the subway and I get to the school after everyone is done for the night. Everyone but you, as it turned out to happen. I’m feeling French toast. Sound good to you?”
“That’s fine.” Brushing the question away, I moved to the edge of the bed, watching him as he began rifling through the cupboards, pulling out dishes and ingredients. “How did you get that job?”
“My godmother works there,” he answered simply. “She’s been helping me out since I moved here. I’m betting she’s keeping an eye on me for my parents. She helps buy odds and ends when I’ve forgotten to get them from the delivery service. After a few months, she said she wasn’t going to help anymore if I didn’t start leaving the house, so she got me the job.”
“Do I know her?” His hoodie was in the closet, hanging up, and I reached out, feeling the fabric happily. Standing, I let the blankets fall back to the bed, pulling the sweater out and sliding it over my head. It was just big enough to touch the top of my thighs, wrapping me in a cocoon of warmth.
“I would think so,” he laughed, cracking an egg into a bowl. “It’s Miss Gini.”
“What?” Surprised, I crossed to him, hugging him from behind and kissing his back. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” He continued with his cooking, whisking the items together quickly. “She and my mom were best friends growing up. She was also part of the reason Adam and I wanted to be a part of UD so badly. Our family was there, besides it being the best in the country.”
“Does she know about . . . us?” I asked hesitantly, not knowing how I felt about that.
“Not at first, no. She came to me a few weeks after I started helping you, though, and asked if I had anything to do with it.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Just that I was giving you some tips to help you out.”
There was an overtone of humor to his voice and I moved away, leaning against the counter next to him. “And what did she have to say about that?”
“I don’t think she believed me all that much, to be honest,” he answered, chuckling as he dipped the bread in the batter. “She couldn’t imagine that I’d shown myself to someone, let alone talked to them. Of course, she didn’t know that I’d been so secretive. But she seemed supportive of it, for both of us, I think. She said I needed the interaction—”
“And that I needed the help,” I finished bitterly. “Wonderful.”
“No.” Pausing in his movements, he reached out and placed a finger under my chin, raising my face to his. “Not that you needed help. You got into that program all on your own, Scarlet. You’ve always had greatness within you. You didn’t need help with the dancing, you needed help listening to your body. All I did was show you how to do it.”
Overcome by a sudden onslaught of emotions, I looked away, clearing my throat and blinking away the tears that had formed rapidly.
“They’re mean on purpose,” he continued, going back to his cooking. “To weed out the dancers that don’t really want to be there. I did the same thing when we first started rehearsing, to see if you were really good for it. None of it was ever against you, Scar. You need to know that. You are a wonderful, beautiful dancer.”
“Thank you.” I laughed, feeling silly for being so emotional. Watching him for a moment, I thought about Miss Gini and how she’d known almost the whole time. What would she have done if she realized just exactly what was happening in our lessons? “You said you only came to the school at night,” I started again, another question forming in my mind. “How did you watch me during class if that were the case?”
“They record the classes.” He said it like that was common knowledge. “At the end of the year they go through everyone’s footage, compare it to their final showcase performances, and that’s how they decide who to invite to the company.”
“Oh. So you were watching those?”
“Most of the time. Except for when you were practicing by yourself late at night, then I could watch you live. Sometimes, when Clarrisa—that’s Gini, by the way—couldn’t get me the tapes, I watched from the window in the building across the street. Stalker status, I know.”
“That’s how you saw everything at Halloween.” I laughed, catching on. “You were watching out the practice room window.”
“Yes.” He blushed, flipping the bread in the pan over, the delicious smell filling the apartment. “I wanted to see you so badly that night, but I didn’t think I could hold off kissing you again. So I watched the party.”
“Which led to our first real kiss.” Sighing, I remembered the event warmly. “You were not very happy with me.”
“As I recall it, you weren’t very happy with me either.” Smiling, he picked the pan up off the burner, sliding the toast onto a plate. “Bon appetite!”
“Thank you,” I said, smiling widely. “It smells delicious.”
He busied himself with making his own food as I poured syrup over mine. “You can go ahead and eat,” he said, noticing me waiting for him. “I’ll be done in just a minute.”
Nodding, I picked up the fork he’d laid out and cut into the bread, savoring the smell once more before I took a bite.
“This is delicious,” I moaned through the first mouthful. “I don’t think I’ve ever had French toast this good before.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel good.” Chuckling, he finished his own meal, placing it on a plate and pouring syrup over it. “It’s simple enough.”
“No, really,” I insisted. “It’s amazing.”
“Thanks.” Taking a bite, he fell silent, watching me as we both ate.
More thoughts and questions filled my mind as I studied him, his scarred face not even bothering me in the slightest. It was shocking to see, of course, but the more I looked at him, the less I noticed them. They simply became part of who he was, not an abhorrence meant to scare me away.
“Eric,” I said, setting my finished plate on the counter. “Why didn’t you ever come back to dance at UD? I know you can do it; you’ve danced with me. It’s obvious that you fully recovered from everything. You could have used makeup to cover the things you didn’t want anyone else to see.”
Swallowing, he frowned, staring intently at his plate. “They still would have seen,” he said softly. “No one wants to pay money to come see a disfigured man dance. It’s not a circus.”
“How will you know if you never try?” I pressed. “As long as you’re comfortable with yourself, what does it matter what anyon
e else thinks?”
“It does matter,” he said seriously. “And I’m not comfortable. It was hard enough to show you, and I’ve wanted nothing more than to tell you who I was since the moment we first danced together. I can’t just march out on a stage and demand that everyone look at me.”
“But you love to dance. Are you really happy not doing what you love?”
“I’ve accepted what fate handed to me,” he answered strongly. “I don’t need to dance in front of people to enjoy it.”
Keeping my mouth shut, I mulled over his stone convictions. It seemed best to not push the matter at the moment, even if I didn’t agree with his thinking. Smiling, another thought crossed my mind. “Will you dance for me, then? I’ve never actually seen you in action.”
“What? You mean here?” Laughing, he looked across the space, a slight glimmer in his eyes. “I have done a few things here before. You really want to watch, though?”
“Of course,” I replied enthusiastically. “Just think, if you do well enough, I’ll take this jacket off.”
“I bet I could get you to do that without even moving,” he challenged, eyes burning as he glanced at me.
My insides did a small flip, remembering how he’d looked at me the night before. He was right—he could get me to take it off.
“I like how it looks on you, though,” he said seductively, reaching over and dragging his hand up my thigh, sliding it under the fabric and stroking me slowly.
Moaning slightly, I nodded, ready to abandon the thought and get back in bed.
“Hold on.” He was teasing me, placing a finger over my lips as I leaned in for a kiss. “I’ll perform one dance for you. Then you can do one for me—one that involves you taking off that jacket.”
Removing his touch from between my legs, he guided me over to the bed, setting me down on the end and kissing me before moving away. Pushing last night’s clothes aside, he set the kitchen chair in its corner before coming to the closet and pulling out a small radio. He stretched, coming back to the center of the room, and placed the player on the ground, turning it on.
The dance that followed was one of the most amazing that I’d ever seen. He was incredible—I couldn’t think of anyone who wouldn’t come to see him, scars or not.
“Eric,” I said, watching as he moved, the dance telling a story of pain and loss. “You’re extraordinary!”
He continued without comment, spinning and twisting, falling with purpose, the emotions of it all plainly written on his face. When his performance finished, I clapped, awe struck by him.
“That was amazing,” I gushed. “I’m not even kidding. This isn’t something you should be keeping from everyone. The world deserves to see a performance like that from you.”
“It’s not going to happen, Scar.” Laughing, he sat, breathing heavily. “But it did feel good to do that for more than my reflection, for a change.”
“Do it for more than just me,” I urged.
“I don’t need an audience.” The answer was simple, but something in his voice told me the conversation was over. There were definitely locked up feelings when it came to his dreams of performing, that much I could tell.
“Okay,” I said, nodding as I smiled. “We don’t have to talk about it. But I would love to see you do that more often, if you don’t mind. It was a joy to watch.”
“I could probably do that.” Smiling, he raised an eyebrow, his eyes traveling over me. “I’m pretty sure I get to watch you dance now, though.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Hi, Dad.” Grinning, I watched Eric on the floor, where I’d left him. He didn’t look too pleased to have been interrupted, but when I’d seen it was Dad calling, I knew I had to answer.
“Hey, sweetie,” he said cheerily. “How did it go last night? I got a little worried when you didn’t call this morning.”
Looking at the clock on my phone, I stifled a giggle. It was almost noon. “It went great,” I told him. “The ballet was perfect and the ball was wonderful.” And I had sex. Lots of it. With the love of my life. Who you have no idea exists.
“That’s great, Scar! I’m so happy. You have somewhere to stay for Christmas, too, right? With Meg?”
Smiling at Eric, I nodded, even though Dad couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I have somewhere to stay over break.”
At this, Eric broke into a wide grin, rolling off his back and onto his hands and knees. Slowly, he moved over to me on the bed, kissing up my legs and onto my stomach.
Trying not to get lost in his touch, I said a few more things about the show to Dad, stretching out across the mattress.
“Get off the phone,” Eric whispered, his lips pressed against my belly button.
“You don’t need to apologize, Dad,” I said, hating that he felt so bad about missing Christmas. It would be the first one in my entire life that he hadn’t spent with me, though, and we were both feeling a little sad about it. “There will be other holidays and Christmases.”
Trailing caresses up my body, Eric ran a finger over one of my breasts, playing with the nipple before taking it into his mouth and sucking.
Drawing a sharp breath, I tried to cover my pleasure by laughing. “Hey, Dad? I have to go. I have . . . company over for lunch.”
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to take you away from what you were doing. Call me on Christmas?”
“Of course,” I replied sincerely. “I wouldn’t dream of not calling.”
“Okay, sweetie. Have a nice lunch.”
“I’m sure I will,” I said, looking down at Eric, our eyes locking together as he continued to suck.
“Bye.”
“Bye, Dad.” Ending the call, I tossed the phone by the pillows, returning my hands to Eric’s hair.
“That’s cheating,” I scolded him, sighing contentedly.
“Not if you like it,” he said, rising and moving to my other breast.
“I do. Very much.” Closing my eyes, I pushed against him, loving the feel of him all over me. He was still hard between my legs, his cock pressing against my thigh. “Do we have any more condoms?”
“There’s a whole box under the bed,” he said, breaking away and resting his head on my chest. “Why?”
“How many did you buy?” I laughed, amused by the thought of him standing in the drugstore in his hoodie, trying to figure out how many condoms he needed. I was also grateful he’d gone through the trouble, though; I wasn’t quite ready for a baby. I wasn’t exactly having so much sex that I needed to carry protection with me either, nor was I on the pill for the same reason.
“Enough,” he said happily. “I judged the amount off of how hot you made me during all our classes. I figured you would either run from the room screaming, or we would be doing this. After I explained everything, that is. I hoped we would be doing this, anyway.”
“Good call.”
Returning to his assault on my breasts, he reached over the edge of the bed and grabbed one of the items in question, placing it in my hand. “Whenever you’re ready,” he mumbled. “I don’t want you to get sore.”
“Are you kidding? Sex sore is the best kind.” Groaning as he ran his hands down my side, I opened my eyes, looking at him. “Roll over,” I ordered.
“What if I don’t want to?” He licked my nipple again, smiling.
“You always get to order me around. Now it’s my turn. Roll over.”
He looked at me for a second, a hungry gleam in his eyes, before doing as I asked.
Crawling on top of him, I rocked my pelvis back and forth enjoying the friction it created and the longing he showed me. “Close your eyes,” I commanded, smiling as he listened. Bending forward, I kissed across his chest, reaching between his legs to touch him. He made a satisfied sound in his throat as I rubbed my hand up and down.
Tearing the package open with my teeth, I released him for a moment, scooting so I could see all of him as I rolled the plastic over his dick, loving that I could touch him like this. His member stood straight up, obvio
usly ready for me, but I felt like toying with him some.
Lying across him, I kissed his chest again, making my way up his neck and onto his face. His hands pressed into my back, sliding down my body to cup my butt, holding me to him.
“Now who’s cheating,” he grumbled, biting my earlobe as I kissed his neck again.
“Hush,” I scolded him. “I didn’t say you could talk.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He was definitely amused.
Finally, I didn’t feel like I could wait any longer, and I sat up, sliding him inside. It was deeper than when he’d been on top and I sighed with pleasure, rocking slightly. Returning the sentiment, he pushed against me, growling with need.
“Patience,” I murmured. Slowly, so as to draw it out for the both of us, I moved up and down, grinding against him, my hands on his chest. Each advance brought him deep inside me, bringing such pleasure that I was already starting to feel like I would finish soon.
Speeding up, I leaned further over him, his hands still holding me tightly, my breathing increasing. He’d kept his eyes closed as I’d instructed, but I didn’t need to see the look in them to know he was enjoying himself. His breathing was quick and he kept biting his lower lip, his body rocking against mine hurriedly.
“Go faster,” he moaned, practically picking me up so he could move in and out better. “God, this feels so good, Scarlet. So good!”
“What do you want?” I asked, right there with him. “Tell me.”
“This is what I want,” he growled, pounding into me as I rode him. “Just like this.” He was hitting me perfectly inside and I started to feel the tremble that signaled finish.
“Oh!” Closing my eyes, I rocked against him harder, matching his rhythm as we worked toward the end.
“Is that good?” he asked, sliding his hands up my spine and pulling himself up, sucking my nipple into his mouth again.
“Yes,” I whimpered, going as fast as I could. “Don’t stop. I’m so close!”
Growling again, he reached his hand down between us, stroking me on the outside as he slammed into me. I could tell he was getting just as close as I was, his body tight like it was going to explode.
Watching Over Me: A Dreams Novel Page 13
