Moved

by Katrina Liss

  “I don't want to be hurt either. I’ll be careful.”

  “He isn't in it for the long run Kay. Admittedly he's more invested than I am in his women, but I know him. He's a top class player. He'll tell you exactly what you want to hear while he's looking over your shoulder for the next conquest. That's why I've kept you apart.”

  “Well, maybe I won't listen to what he tells me, huh? Look, I need someone? You must understand that? I haven't had a boyfriend for a year. But I promise I won’t hold my breath that he’s the one, okay?”

  I’m speaking out of my ass of course.

  The one I want is in right front of me. And has been for nine whole months.

  He holds his arms out. He doesn't do this type of thing normally.

  Two hugs in one day?

  I step into his arms and he holds me tight and drops a kiss on my head.

  “When it all goes tits up, which it will, I'm here...'K?”

  “Oh, cheer me up, why don't you?” I snort, pushing him away, my palms against his chest. But I'm smiling as I go back to my tidying and wiping up the dishes.

  “We'll go by car for a change shall we? 15 mins, okay? Just need to make that call. You know…?”

  “Yep, fine. You go chat to Sand.”

  I stand at the sink, looking outside, but not really seeing anything. I'm deep in thought. In two minds about going but with Jackson. Yes, I need the distraction he can provide. But obviously, I'm wary of where that’ll lead me. Do I want to go down that path anyway? Maybe I need a different distraction. Now I’ve had a small taste of Mason, it’s thrown me. Or bulldozed me more like. Not that I’ll have another chance like that again. Much as I’d love to. And now, to top it off, I’ve gotta deal with him and Sandy, for however long that lasts. That’s not going to be easy.

  I puff out a confused, sad sigh.

  Why can't life be simple? Meet nice guy... live happily ever after... blah...blah... blah?

  9

  I stand in the musty smelling, windowless dressing room and open my bag to choose my dance gear. Normally we wear full dress for our rehearsals. You've got to be able to move properly in costume, so it's essential to rehearse in them.

  But today, I'm not. I have other things on my mind than rehearsing. A little test of endurance. Him… me… the both of us, maybe?

  I tug on my high-leg black Lycra leotard. No leggings, no knickers, no bra. I catch sight of myself in the mirror. It's a very revealing look. My ass hangs out of this a little too much. I'm feeling almost naked in my red jazz pumps and brief ensemble. I decide to leave my hair down, flowing around my shoulders because I’ll feel even more naked with it tied up.

  As I leave the changing room, I’m wondering what might happen.

  He's scrolling through my iPod, with his back to me, and finally finding the track, he puts it in the dock and turns the volume up. The Temptations, My Girl, blares out.

  I'm standing in the middle of the floor, arms crossed, when he turns and catches sight of me.

  “Fuck Kaylee, did you forget something? Like some modesty?” he asks, his eyes taking full advantage of a thorough sweep up and down.

  “Yeah well, as it's only me and you here, just us old buddies.” I challenge, walking to his side and taking his hand. I twirl round, wrapping myself in his arm, pressing my back to his front. I look upwards, over my shoulder, and our faces are close, just inches apart. “So, shall we begin?” I ask, bracing my feet against his, and staring at his mouth. I'm remembering how it felt, the softness of his lips and the slow sweep of his tongue over mine.

  Heat rises inside me.

  I'm struggling being alone with him already.

  He takes a deep breath, his professional mask in place, and we're off. I roll out and stand facing him in second position. We begin our rehearsed steps. It's basically a slow dance with some wraps, half lifts, and floor drops. Lots of contact and sweeping side to side. This is the first part of the Bonnie & Clyde couple get together, after the full cast piece depicting the robbery at the bank.

  I'm thinking it's going pretty well, considering, when he stops, pulls away, and runs his fingers though his hair.

  “I don't know. It's just not right.. There's too much contra-lateral opposition ― one arm, the other leg ― it's repetitive. Let’s take it back to basics. Slow dance and I'll work out from that. Start the track again, and put it on loop.”

  “Well, I like it as it is, Mase,” I offer up my humble opinion, walking over to the iPod, situated on the floor in the corner. I bend down and flick back and on repeat.

  “Mm mm, what a beautiful rear view.”

  I stand up, turn and grin at him as I return.

  “I've seen your naked butt often enough,” I joke.

  “I don't think my ass is in the same league as yours, honey.”

  “Oh, I don't know... It kinda does it for me.” My heart is fluttering with our flirty talk.

  He grabs me by the forearm and pulls me in and slaps my almost bare cheek playfully.

  “Oh yeah.... I'm all ears. So it does it for you, does it?”

  I slap his ass back, grabbing a toned handful.

  “Way too grabbable, Mister…”

  Before I know what’s happening, he's wrestling me to the floor, tickling me.

  “I'll give you grabbable. Yours is edible.”

  “Oh no, get off me..! You beast... I hate you... please don’t… don’t… DON’T…” I beg.

  Now one thing I hate is being tickled. And he knows it. It's the worst form of punishment. I go into one. A shrieking, swearing, wild writhing spasm. Then it gets worse. He flips me across his knees and bites my backside, rubbing me with his bristly chin in between mouthfuls, and tickling my sides incessantly.

  “Don't... Oh hell! Stop it... you bastard,” I squeak, desperately trying to wriggle away.

  He finally stops, sensing I've had enough, and I'm reaching that unpleasant stage where I begin to get upset ― about to really blast him. He gets up and offers me his hand and pulls me up. And what happens next almost blows my mind.

  He slips his hands under my leotard and holds my bare ass in his palms.

  I gasp and hold my breath as he pulls me close. His hands rub gently up and down, and round and round and he whispers in my ear.

  “You wore this deliberately, to get me going, didn't you?”

  “What do you mean? I’ve worn this leotard loads of times before, and it’s never had much effect on you,” I reply, as innocently as I’m able.

  “Not like this, you ain’t…”

  “Well, it’s hot, and that’s your problem. By the way, would you mind getting your hands out of it?” Although it's pure heaven to be held in his hands, I feel I ought to make some kind of protest.

  “Not yet, I'm enjoying it.”

  “Yeah, and I can feel just how much as well.” I trace his erection with my hand as I pull away and walk off. I need some of my Lucozade.

  “Prick tease…” he chuckles.

  I don’t like the term prick tease, but that’s about the size of it.

  I keep my back to him so he can't see the bright flush I feel I'm sporting all over my face and chest.

  After a few quick sips, I take a deep breath, getting my thoughts in order, and turn back.

  “Right, lets get on with it, shall we?” I say.

  I get into the starting position inside the circle of his arms.

  “Relax into me and let's see what else we can do with this,” he suggests.

  Ever the professional, I resist the urge to rip his clothes off.

  I nestle against him, our legs and arms positioned around each other, he holds one hand tight, and I rest my head on his chest. This is a normal state of affairs for us, but at this moment it feels very different. Like I'm floating in his arms. I’m so blissfully safe and warm, and so in tune with him, we're almost one fluid being.

  I don't know how many times the track played on loop, but it was at least three, before we move from that shuffling, tigh
tly wrapped position.

  “We don't seem to be doing much work here, Mase.”

  “I'm still thinking of potential moves,” he says, rhythmically smoothing the back of my head with his hand.

  I laugh.

  “No, you're not. We’re having a sweet hug, aren't we?”

  “Nothing wrong with a hug while I think, is there?”

  “It's a little bit too intimate, in my opinion.”

  He looks down at me, his expression serious, his eyes glittering brightly.

  “You know, I wish I could remember it––what happened between us last night.”

  “I thought we were trying to forget it.”

  “Well, you seem to be. It wasn’t that bad, was it?” His eyes look hurt.

  “You really want me to answer that, do you?” I can’t help enjoying having the upper hand for once. It so rarely happens.

  But really, I know why I'm saying this. It's self preservation, that’s all. By denying my feelings out loud, I'm less likely to shout out, ‘I love you. Please do it again, forever,’ which is on the tip of my tongue and dying to escape.

  “Look, I was drunk. It wasn't ever going to be good.”

  “Yeah, and probably for the best, I feel.”

  “I'd love another go. Sober.”

  “Another 'GO'? I'm not some fucking fairground ride!” I kick him hard in the shin, which kills my toes, encased only in a layer of soft leather.

  I storm off.

  I hear him swearing and complaining as I stomp off to the ladies’ changing room, slam the door, and sit there fuming in the chair, very close to tears.

  If he'd said almost anything else, such as how he wanted me or that he found me irresistible, I'd probably have succumbed. I’d have removed the leotard, there and then, and offered myself to him.

  He knocks on the door.

  “If your name starts with an M and ends with an N, go screw yourself,” I shout.

  He ignores me and comes in anyway.

  “Sorry, that was a crass thing to say.” He slides his backside half on the dresser in front of me.

  “Damn right it was.” My anger subsides and my eyes start to fill, and the drops spill over.

  What a horrible mess we’ve started. It’s all unravelling. And I don’t want to lose Mason as a friend.

  “Come here... please?” He cocks his head to one side and opens his arms. “I've upset you.”

  “You know it don't take much.” I rise and he stands and holds me tightly against him.

  “I didn't mean it to come out that way. I meant to say, if the opportunity arises, and you end up in my bed again, I pray to God I'm sober for the event.”

  “That's a definite improvement.” I smile up at him.

  “So… wanna carry on rehearsing?”

  I lift my arm and pull his head down, his face close to mine.

  “No, I want you to kiss me.”

  I need the sober kiss now. Let us both see how we feel after that.

  “Kay, you know I really want to, but––” He bites his lip, hesitating.

  I stand on tip toe, placing my lips gently to his.

  Our breath mingles, and a surge of excitement floods my veins as he pulls me in, softly rubbing his mouth against mine.

  “Hell, I can’t resist you anymore,” he murmurs.

  “Well, here’s the thing… I can’t resist you either… and I don’t want to.”

  We both clash together, a needy madness taking over. I moan as our mouths taste and our hands explore.

  His fingers wind their way through my hair, tugging at the roots and massaging my neck.

  Shivers of delight engulf me.

  I nibble his lip with my teeth and hear his harsh intake of breath. My tongue circles his mouth and I lick my way around to his ear, nipping and sucking at his earlobe. My fingers are busy, ruffling his hair and scraping my nails over his head. I am thrilled to be doing this, and even more thrilled as his hands start roaming beneath my leotard again. He squeezes and rubs my backside until I'm fit for nothing and a heated, quivering wreck, completely at his mercy.

  A steady stream of breath leaves his mouth, surging past my ear.

  “Oh my God!” I groan, as my legs turn to jelly. I pull away to look at him. I want this man so badly, my insides hurt.

  He steps back, abruptly, attempting to calm down.

  “Come on, get dressed. Let’s get you home before I throw you on the floor and take you there.”

  I’m full of passion for the moment. “Maybe I'd like that.”

  “You deserve far better than a filthy old floor, Kay. Silk sheets and champagne on ice––”

  “No, I really don’t need all that. All I want is you.”

  His eyes hold mine and an amazing smile beams back at me.

  “I like hearing you say that, baby.”

  “Is this really happening? Me and you?”

  “God, I hope so.”

  At the risk of ruining it, I have a few things I need clarified before I raise my hopes too far.

  “But Mase, I have brown hair and no boobs.”

  “I really don't care. You're you. And I like everything about you, a whole damn lot.”

  “Even the tattoos and whatever?”

  “They’re growing on me.”

  Now here comes the biggie.

  “You don’t do real relationships though, do you?”

  It’s a direct question and I want a direct answer.

  He puffs out a long breath. I’m sensing it’s a nervous breath.

  “I’m willing to give it my best shot––with you.”

  Well, this is a very new and brave Mason. I'm even more enamored with this version. Every switch I possess is very much on.

  We share an intense look. A very special moment.

  Until he breaks it.

  “Oh Christ, what we gonna do about Sandy and Jackson?” he throws at me.

  That is a very big problem. I don’t want to hurt my best friend. But I know I will. And I’m sick to my stomach about it. .

  “So you don’t want Sandy in any sense at all? Please be honest with me.”

  “No. I never did.”

  “You’re sure? I mean, she’s more your type, isn’t she? And you have hooked up with her, so…”

  “Honest to God I’ve never been attracted to her. Maybe it’s because she’s your friend. I don’t know… I wasn’t looking to hook up with her last night but she really came onto me.”

  “So you’ll tell her what… that you made a mistake?”

  “ I guess. So, how are you feeling about Jackson?”

  “I’ll cancel our date, of course.”

  “Obviously. But how d’you feel about him.”

  “After the party I was unsure about dating him anyway. I was very attracted, I’ll admit that, but that was mainly because of you, Mase. You kept us apart and that just made the curiosity grow stronger.”

  “You’re sure you don’t want to date him?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “So what you gonna tell him?”

  “I’ll think of something to let him down gently. Now let’s stop spoiling the mood, huh?”

  “Just tying up some loose ends… that’s all.”

  “How tidy of you.”

  I lean forward, wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him again. Heat erupts between us. He pulls back breathing heavily, his eyes look so bright and excited.

  “Come on sweet cheeks, let’s get outta here.”

  I drag my joggers and t-shirt on and we rush out to the car, laughing, kissing, full of joy and anticipation.

  The air sizzles with electricity as we drop in the car seats and set off.

  “Gonna be the longest drive of my life,” he groans, edging into the London gridlock.

  “I'll put some music on, shall I?” My hands are shaking with excitement as I place my iPhone in the car dock and choose an old Alicia Keys album which I love. “There we go. Alicia, do your best, girl.”

  I place
my hand on his knee and then settle in my seat.

  As we leave, we cast glances at each other, seeing each other in a brand new light.

  All the months we've spent together, becoming so close, yet fooling around, pretending we weren't interested.

  We were lying to ourselves and each other. How we have denied it for so long is a miracle.

  At this moment I'm wild about Mason and dying for him with every breath in my body.

  I want his hands on me, and my hands on him. I ache for the feel of his skin against mine; his lips smothering every inch of my face in kisses; that hard part of him buried deep inside. I crave that like nothing else. I need a long taste of everything that Mason consists of.

  And I want to hear him whisper my name, over and over and over again.

  I see the same strength of feeling mirrored in his eyes, and that makes my heart soar with hope for us.

  We may only be going back to our modest flat, but right now, that's somewhere so special and wonderful to me.

  It's our place, our heavenly little spot in the world, and about to become even more ours; more special and more wonderful.

  I run my hand up and down his thigh sensuously, a long sigh escaping my lips, as our eyes meet and we smile.

  Something really good is starting between us, I can feel it.

  I shuffle my backside, lean right across the car and kiss him on the cheek, rubbing my lips from side to side. My eyes close as I inhale his unique manly scent, and I savour the feel of his bristle roughened skin. His face moves beneath my lips as a smile erupts.

  “That’s nice. Do it again…”

  “Aha…” I slip my hand round the back of his neck, caressing his hairline with my fingertips.

  At that moment I wish the car could fly.

  Conclusion of Move Me

  Novella Duo

  Will they or won’t they? The drama unfolds….

  Check out my author page at your bookstore for my latest updated book list.

  Series by Katrina Liss

  Dr SEX - THERAPY - FIRST IN SERIES FREE

  Samantha has another agenda when she attends a sex therapy workshop. But it’s not till she gets involved with the program and the host, Ryan Brantwell (DR SEX), that she understands there’s something she needs far more than sex… 3 PART SERIES ALSO AVAILABLE SEPARATELY.