Pas De Deux: A Dance For Two

by Lynn Turner

  “We were hugging,” she murmured.

  “We were doing a little more than hugging, petite.”

  She giggled—or something like a giggle. It was hard to tell what mangled sound she made with her bottom lip caught between his teeth. “I-I’m not used to it. I like it.”

  Pulling back a moment, he grinned. “Are you so deprived?”

  She shrugged, and his eyes caught the movement, then trailed slowly down. Her answer was lodged in her throat.

  “You talk in your sleep,” he said gruffly.

  “What did I say?”

  “Nothing intelligible.” Stroking his knuckles down her cheek, he toyed with a lock of her hair.

  Wincing, she smoothed her hair. She could only imagine the sight she made. Sleek and wavy hours before, it was undoubtedly a sweated-out mass of thick, tangled curls. His ego must be soaring. He settled between her thighs, gently pressing her into the mattress.

  A strangled cry left her throat, and he chuckled softly. “Yes, I remember you like being smothered. It’s slightly morbid, as kinks go, but I can roll with it.”

  Her groan was part pleasure, mostly mortification. She felt his grin spread over her jaw in a brush of a kiss.

  “Don’t worry, petite, you’re still a mystery to me.”

  Drawing their hands above her head, he intertwined their fingers. They were almost nose-to-nose, and his eyes were clearer—warm jade and inquisitive.

  What is it? they asked. That gasp wasn’t like the ones I pulled from you last night.

  How could he know the difference? How could he know her so well when she hardly knew him at all? She thought of the inspiration board right across the room, shrouded in darkness, covered in her face, her body, her heart…and shut her eyes tight. He’d been decoding her cipher since the night she met him…

  Even now, you’re performing.

  You don’t trust yourself.

  You’re distracted. Off your game. And I want to know why.

  You do this thing sometimes, when you dance-You flirt with the time.

  You bully yourself.

  Through it all, I still saw you.

  He used what he learned to push her buttons, open her up, take what he wanted and stow the rest away for later. Soon, she’d have no secrets left. Soon, she wouldn’t be intriguing anymore…He kissed her back from her thoughts. Back to the now. Holding her hands to the pillow easily, he slanted his mouth over hers in slow, wet slides. The past stopped haunting her when Zack kissed her, when he breathed into her mouth, fed her his tongue, sucked hers into his. It registered in the pit of her stomach, tightening her insides and curling her toes. His eyes were on hers when he pressed in gently, filling her a little, and then a little more. She clamped down on him and he surged deeper, shuddering, breathing hard.

  “Sorry, petite.” He touched his forehead to hers, sinking her further into the mattress with each heave of his chest against hers. “I’m pretty much a horn ball in the mornings, and it doesn’t help that I’ve been dreaming about you for weeks.”

  “About this?”

  “This. Not this.” His expression was intense again. “Nothing. Everything. What you eat. What you sleep in. What you think about when you get that far away look in your eyes. How you stuff all of this…” He kissed her hair. “…into those little buns you wear all the time.” His nostrils flared like he’d just finished the Boston Marathon. “Just…you.”

  Her heart separated into a million pieces, fluttering around in her chest, then flocking back together so she could breathe again. “Inside? Or out?”

  “What?” He breathed the word, rolling his hips.

  She tightened around him involuntarily, and a prominent vein throbbed in his forehead. She needed her answer before he lost the ability to form coherent sentences. “You said I’m still a mystery. Did you mean inside, or out?”

  Sighing, he let go her hands to trail his down her sides. He fitted them to the dips at her waist, squeezing gently, grinning at her whole-body jerk. “Both.”

  He dropped another kiss on her lips. “Gonna take some time to figure you out.”

  Sinking his hands beneath her, he lifted her hips from the bed, groaning into a smooth, easy rhythm.

  “H-how much t-time?” she babbled, wrapping her legs around him, bracing for the ride.

  “I’ve had hours, petite.” He spoke with effort, his breathing ragged. “I’m inside you again, but I’m pretty good at foresight. I can tell you…I’m gonna need more. Much, much more.”

  He finished the proclamation in her mouth, slipping his tongue in for a silky twirl around hers. Lifting one of her legs over his shoulder, he increased the angle, deepening his thrusts.

  “More,” she repeated—begged, actually—over and over…and over.

  Their mouths landed slick, lazy kisses wherever they could reach, savoring each other like their skin was coated in honey. It was slow and slumberous, like a dream. He moved with such controlled power, holding her leg steady, his breathing heavy and slow. Her composure long gone, she squeaked her pleas in a slur of French and English, until the pressure had her sobbing…until a few more lazy rolls of his hips made any sound at all impossible. She caught his expression before her eyes rolled shut as she came, arching sharply, shuddering into his chest.

  Delirious.

  Because of her.

  Pure radiation emanated through her body, slow-burning through every nerve. Her hands slipped on his sweat-slick shoulders, and she dug her nails in, needing something to hold onto. A sound wrenched from him—guttural, like he was in pain, and he finally lost his composure, his head dropping to her shoulder, his large body shaking in her arms. It didn’t seem to matter to him that her muscles had turned to mush, or that her limbs were spread out most ungracefully beneath him. Clinging to her, he hooked his arms under her armpits, beseeching The Divine between kisses on her neck.

  Mina scrunched up her nose, thinking about her makeup. “This is the sweatiest hug. I probably look like a raccoon.”

  He fell on top of her with a husky laugh. “A stunning raccoon.”

  “I’m serious! We are stepping dangerously close to dirty romance novel territory.”

  Still laughing, he rolled off her and strolled into the bathroom. “Explain yourself, woman.”

  Following his gorgeous retreating back with her eyes, it took her a moment to remember what she was talking about. “Em…You know, a sex marathon. Cock this, pussy that—I can’t help it. I always imagine a rooster chasing a cat. It’s disturbing, like that skunk, Pepé Le Pew…”

  His laughter was full-body this time, shaking the bed when he climbed in and stretched on his side.

  Admiring the way his abs rippled and folded as he laughed, she went on. “Multiple screaming orgasms. Chatte so sore it needs ice.”

  “First of all, screaming?” He propped his head on his hand. “I distinctly remember something that sounded like a strangled cat, but no screaming, tragically. We’ll have to work on that.”

  She swatted his shoulder. “I can’t scream with you inside me. I can’t breathe.”

  Looking her over with the smug satisfaction of a cat that had just thoroughly licked his bowl clean of crème, he grinned. “Fair enough. Chatte?”

  “A woman’s…nethers.”

  “Nethers?” He collapsed onto his back, dying from laughter.

  She hid her grin, feigning long-suffering patience. “When did you…? I didn’t hear anything.” Her question was directed toward his penis.

  “I put one on while you were admiring my chiseled face and my dreamy eyes.”

  She groaned.

  “I have ice, petite.”

  “That’s very kind of you, but I don’t need it.”

  His face fell. “My ego just took it hard…in the nethers.”

  “Just as well. It’s already big enough.”

  He turned onto his side and tugged her hand, pulling her onto her stomach so they were face-to-face. “Your words are laughing, but your eyes are
n’t.”

  She closed her eyes.

  “Hey.” He held her chin in his hand, and her eyes drifted back open. “Talk to me. You don’t regret it, do you?”

  She stared at him, at the raw vulnerability in his expression. Taking his hand from her chin, she kissed it. No matter how strong her reservations were, she couldn’t lie to that face. “Non. How could I? That was—I’ve never…”

  Frowning, she sifted through her dating memory for a point of reference. Not finding one, the silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It seemed to say more in the absence of words than anything she was capable of now.

  “It’s okay,” he said finally. “I feel the same way. I’m not sure how we rewind after tonight.”

  “The alternative is impossible.”

  “Complicated. Batshit, maybe. But not impossible.”

  “How?”

  Pulling her closer, he kissed the anxiety from her lips. “At four in the morning, I’m stupid, as a rule, but I’ve also been thoroughly fucked, and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is naked in my bed.” He emphasized his statement with a slap to her ass, grinning as she made the strangled cat noise again. “We see each other every day, petite. We’ll figure it out. Okay?”

  He said it with such confidence, her lungs emptied again with relief. She rubbed her cheek against his. “Okay.”

  Zack stared at her with obvious appreciation when she emerged from the shower. “Thank you, for not wearing a towel.”

  “I dried off with it. Why would I want to wrap myself in it?” Scanning the floor with her eyes, she bent to search under the bed for her underwear. “You’ve seen everything.”

  “Well, now I have.”

  “I can’t find my—” Standing straight again, she froze. “Zack…”

  Her lacy panties dangled from one of his fingers. “These look expensive.”

  “They are.” She held out her hand.

  Making no move to return them, he lifted them higher, craning his neck for a better look. “Then I’m sorry for almost ripping them. These are racy.”

  She couldn’t help her amusement at this new side of him. Or perhaps his humor had always been there, channeled into driving her insane rather than getting her to smile, which she did now. “You didn’t notice them when I was half naked on the roof?”

  “You were half naked. I wasn’t looking at your clothes.”

  “What were you looking at?”

  He dragged his eyes up from her toes. “Your eyes.”

  Snorting, she lifted her dress from the back of the arm chair and stepped into it.

  “I love your eyes,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like them. When I first met you, I swear your eyes were telling me to come here and fuck off at the same time.”

  She sifted her arms through, then turned for him to zip her. He obliged, kissing her back before zipping her up. Pulling her to him for a cuddle, he turned his face into her neck. “You washed me off only to smell like me again.”

  “I’ll bring my own lotion next time.”

  “I forbid you to bring your own lotion. And I forbid you to ban me from showering with you again.”

  Turning in his embrace, she lifted her arms to his shoulders, heat filling her face.

  He frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re still shy?”

  “Non…but I didn’t plan this. I didn’t have anything for the shower…for my hair.” Her face heated again. “I stole a plastic bag from under the sink.”

  “Plastic bag?”

  “Oui, you don’t have a shower cap.”

  He looked at her like she was reciting astrophysics in ancient Greek.

  “I couldn’t get my hair wet,” she explained. “I would have been forced to leave here looking like you’d given me electric shock treatments instead of multiple screaming orgasms.”

  His eyes flashed at her. “You can’t breathe with me inside you, let alone scream. I heard it from the horse’s own mouth.”

  Merde, there was that shivering reflex again. “I imagine there’s a first time for everything.”

  “Petite….”

  “What are my eyes saying now?”

  Studying her a moment, he held her hips, digging in gently with his fingers. “They’re saying, Kiss me.”

  “Oui.”

  He didn’t do it right away. Instead, he spoke with his eyes, stating his intent, making promises. They dropped to her mouth and stayed there for seven seconds—she counted. Seven seconds felt much longer when her body was vibrating, when sounds that were more animal than human left her throat. Finally, he bent his head and plied her lips softly with his, teaching her for untold minutes that there were infinite nerves on the surface of her lips, that he could isolate each one with his tongue, make them tingle with pleasure. Never had she experienced this without tongue in her mouth, or elsewhere, accompanied by copious amounts of heavy petting. Never had she felt so utterly filled, so thoroughly kissed.

  Pulling away, he chuckled, massaging her waist. “You’re purring.”

  “I think we’ve established that you think I’m a cat.” She was more than a little breathless. “Are you going to give me back my underwear?”

  “I’m wearing underwear.” He lifted her panties from the bed. “These are…”

  He brought them to his nose.

  “Zack…”

  He sent her a wicked look.

  “Don’t…”

  He took a long, slow drag.

  “Nom de Dieu.”

  “How attached are you to these?”

  “They’re dirty.”

  “Still waiting for your point.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “Sentimental.” He handed her the delicate scrap of lace with obvious reluctance.

  “Merci.” She stuffed them in her evening bag.

  Air left his body like he’d been kicked in the stomach. His face said as much, too. “You’re about to ride commando in my car?”

  “What?”

  His Adam’s apple moved in his throat. “Nothing. I hope you left me some hot water.”

  Zack took the longest route to Mina’s apartment, but even cruising the slow lanes on two of the world’s otherwise most homicide-inducing highways brought them to her neighborhood much too quickly. The console read five-thirty, but the sun wouldn’t be up for a couple of hours. He stole glances at Mina whenever street lights turned her skin gold. She looked like a movie star.

  “Where did you get that hoodie, by the way?” he asked. “It’s not exactly your usual style.”

  “How would you know?”

  He threw her a disbelieving look. “Wild guess. Old boyfriend?”

  The far-away look returned to her eyes, right before he turned back to the road. “Something like that.”

  She said it so softly, he almost missed the catch in her voice. Almost. “Étienne?”

  “Oui. But he wasn’t my…we weren’t lovers.”

  “But you loved him.”

  She gasped, and he glanced at her again. “Sorry. Love him. You love him.”

  Looking out of her window, she wrung her hands together.

  “It’s okay, petite. We don’t have to talk about it.”

  She was quiet for a long time, until he thought they’d continue the rest of the drive in silence.

  “We were soulmates.” Her voice was quiet, distant.

  “I think that means something a little different here.”

  “I believe there are many kinds of soulmates because there are many kinds of connections.”

  It was quiet again as he pulled to the curb a few yards from her apartment building and put the car in park.

  “Maybe that’s crazy. I sound crazy,” she whispered.

  She was starting to pull away, second-guessing herself for opening up to him, and he needed to win the competition with her thoughts. Undoing her seatbelt, he pulled her across his lap. “Intriguing,” he said, kissing her again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  V
era Tetley ruled her empire from her sumptuous castle on the Upper East Side. The mega mansion was made up of two apartment buildings, gutted and renovated with a courtyard at its center. Stepping down into the sunken stone terrace in the middle of the courtyard’s lush garden, Zack felt like he was entering a great room in a witch’s palace.

  By some sorcery, the sounds of the city beyond the limestone walls were nearly shut out, and all he heard was the sound of tinkering china, and the steady stream of water pouring from the marble lion’s head mounted on the garden wall behind them.

  It was a sweltering eighty-five degrees when he’d left Alex’s brownstone for the theater an hour ago, but it felt like a balmy seventy-five in Vera’s garden.

  Yup, sorcery.

  He’d been summoned by the witch—plucked from the street by an old man in a monkey suit who seemed to know only a handful of words, “Vera Tetley would like a word.” That was it. Then Mr. Monkey Suit kindly held open the backseat door and waited for him to slide in like a good little lad. Disappointingly though, unlike the monkeys in The Wizard of Oz, this one couldn’t fly, so it took an eternity to arrive at Vera’s fortress at mid-fucking-day. He’d sent an apologetic text to Faye alerting her that he’d be significantly delayed, which earned him a very eloquent

  ????!!!!

  He replied,

  I’ve been kidnapped again.

  She replied,

  Vera.

  …

  Affirmative.

  …

  Fuck.

  …

  Indeed.

  His phone remained silent for a few minutes, and then vibrated again, with Faye’s assurance that the assistant director and choreographer could wrangle the zoo animals for as long as he needed.

  Faye, lovely Faye. Moon of my life, my sun and stars…

  …

  Game of Thrones? Nice. Say hello to Norma Desmond for me.

  He set his phone down, trying to silence his scolding brain.

  You missed lunch. Turkey on wheat. Extra veg and olive oil. Grapes. Yogurt.

  His leg bounced in irritation.

  It’s fine. You’re in control. Swap lunch for dinner. Make lunch your cheat meal.