Pointe Noire (The Noire House Book 1)

by Lacie Thorne

  “Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?” I asked in a quiet voice.

  He sighed, running a palm over his face. “And how was I supposed to know the two of you were acquainted?”

  “Acquainted?” I asked. “Garret’s been my best friend for five years.”

  “And yet he never mentioned me?” he countered. “We go further back than that. School buddies, though I can’t remember which year we met.”

  I shook my head, most of my anger dissipating. “He never told me your name, just that he knew a big-shot choreographer in New York. And even that he only mentioned recently. I never expected it to be Samuel fucking Roche.”

  Sam sighed, reaching for his own glass of champagne and taking a sip before he spoke. “Yeah, well, I can’t say the same for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Dark brown eyes stared at me and my mind flooded with memories of Wednesday night. Sam kissing my neck, biting my skin, and licking away the sting. His body rocking against mine as I clenched my hands into tight fists. His hand buried between my thighs and bringing me to orgasm for the first time in my entire life.

  “Garret spoke of you often—too often, in fact.” Sam studied me, looking for something I didn’t understand. “And before you ask, he never told me your full name.”

  “Emmy,” I mumbled, earning a nod from Sam.

  “He loves you, Emily.”

  “I know. I love him, too.”

  Sam growled. “And yet you went looking for someone at The Noire House?”

  I gaped at him, offended by his accusation. “I mean, I love Garret as my best friend. Not as a—”

  “Dominant?” he supplied when I didn’t finish. I nodded. “Well, I can tell you that he cares a lot more than that.”

  Garret returned before Sam’s words were even cold, cutting off any response I might have been able to give. My head had grown fuzzy, the champagne taking stronger hold of me.

  “So,” Garret said. “What happened on Monday, Emmy?”

  I closed my eyes, trying to ignore my spinning vision. “I had a little tumble while Joel and I rehearsed a pas de deux. I lost my balance during the port de bra, and he realized too late.”

  “Why the fuck didn’t he catch you?” Garret growled.

  I leaned my elbow on the table and rested my forehead in my palm. “He did, but the momentum pulled my back out and—it really wasn’t that bad. Martin overreacted and sent me home with strict instructions not to come back to the theatre until this morning.”

  A glass of water appeared in front of me, held by a bronzed hand. I looked up to find Sam offering me his water. While I accepted it with a subtle smile, Garret continued his rant.

  “You should have told me, Em. Why did I have to hear about it from the ballet master?”

  “I’m sorry, is your collar around my neck?” I asked between clenched teeth, making sure to keep my voice low even in my anger.

  Garret returned my glare. “No. But I am your friend, and I worry about you.”

  I took several sips of Sam’s water, painfully aware of his presence during my argument with my best friend. “I know, Garret, and I’m sorry.” His blue eyes softened, and I reached out to place a hand over his. “You know how I get about this, and it really was just a tweak. Martin sent me home as a precaution. My stand-in could do the rest of the shows this week, but he wanted me ready for tonight. I already told you how much money he put into the production.”

  His shoulders sagged, a sure sign that his anger left him. He turned his hand to squeeze my fingers. “Promise me you’re okay.”

  I nodded. “Promise. Just a tweak, and I can barely even feel it anymore.”

  Garret pulled my hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. A moment of awkward silence fell over the table. I felt embarrassed that Sam had been privy to not only our fight, but now he also knew I was nursing an old injury.

  Samuel Roche—choreography god—had watched me dance and now knew I’d tweaked my back. Two days after coaxing an orgasm from me and grinding his hard cock between my legs.

  Our food arrived a short while later, helping to break the tension.

  “So, what did you think of the show?” Garret asked Sam, cutting into his steak. I didn’t understand how he could eat such a large chunk of red meat at this hour of the night. “You were real tight-lipped back at the theatre.”

  I glanced at Sam out the corner of my eye, chewing my rabbit food as Garret always called my salads. Sam nodded, finishing his bite of salmon before turning to Garret.

  “Very inspired, though the choreography could have been better.” His dark eyes drifted in my direction. “I also believe their star principal is capable of a great deal more.”

  Garret laughed while I swallowed hard. “I’ve said the same thing for years.”

  “You have to say that because you’re my friend,” I mumbled.

  “Well, even if he does, Garret’s right,” Sam said. “Your partners are likely holding you back. It was obvious you do better when you’re on your own. The minute you get into hold, things start to look shaky.” Those dark eyes held me captive, boring into me with an intense look. “I suspect that was the reason you lost your balance on Monday. Something tells me you’re covering for someone else’s mistake. You don’t dance like someone who trusts their partner.”

  My eyes widened, and I sensed Garret staring at me, but I couldn’t look away from Sam. He was right, of course. Joel had messed up, but I didn’t want to seem like a prima ballerina and blame him. I’d been distracted anyway, and perhaps if I’d been paying better attention, I might have prevented the whole thing.

  “Emmy?” Garret said. “Is he right?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. I can’t remember. It all happened so fast, I’m not sure who was really at fault. Besides, it doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters.”

  “Can we not go through this again, Garret? I just want to eat my salad and get home to bed.”

  Sensing I was losing my patience, Garret nodded and continued to question Sam on the night’s performance. “You see anyone who might work for your new company?”

  “Only one.”

  I pressed my lips together, pretending I wasn’t listening. In all honesty, I’d forgotten what Sam was doing at the theatre in the first place. The situation with Garret had distracted me from thinking about this new company.

  “I can’t see Martin parting with her anytime soon though,” Sam said. “After all, the rest of his talents pale in comparison.”

  Garret laughed. “It’s not only Martin who would give you a hard time. Emmy likes her understated company.”

  I ignored the frown Sam sent me, unwilling to answer the unspoken question.

  “Who’s up for dessert?” Garret asked, cutting off any words Sam might have directed at me.

  I shook my head, eager to be done with this dinner and get home. Of course, Garret ignored my denial, but when Sam likewise declined, he had no choice but to pay the bill and let us all leave.

  Chapter Eleven

  Emily

  As promised, Garret drove me back to get my car, the theatre almost empty by the time we arrived.

  “I’ll drive her home,” Sam said, surprising all of us. “It’s late and not safe for her riding around by herself, especially after chugging those glasses of champagne. Besides, we can set up a time to meet and discuss my proposal.”

  I flushed, my mind going to our dates at The Noire House. Of course, he was talking about his dance company and not our secret entanglement.

  “How will you get home?” Garret asked.

  Sam shrugged. “Emily’s car. I’ll bring it back first thing in the morning.”

  “I can follow—”

  “Garret, it’s fine. Not like she’ll need it before then.”

  With Garret appeased, we said goodnight.

  “You really were incredible tonight, Emmy. There was not a single person in that theatre who wasn’t mesmerized by you.”
He kissed my cheek, whispering in my ear so Sam wouldn’t hear. “Think about his offer, okay?”

  I nodded and watched as Garret got back into his car. While he drove off, Sam climbed into the driver’s seat, leaving me to ride shotgun in my own car. The drive was silent, apart from me providing directions. I expected Sam to drop me off and then disappear into the night. Instead, he followed me up to my pitiful home, lingering when I thought he’d go.

  “You going to open your front door anytime soon?”

  He followed me inside, all innocent right up until I closed the door behind him and switched on the lights. Suddenly, I was flat against the door, the hard surface at my back, and Sam leaning into my front. His lips found mine as he gripped my waist, kissing me hard and fierce.

  “I told you, I don’t share, Emily,” he growled against my throat.

  His erection pressed between us as he licked and sucked the skin of my neck. I buried my fingers in his hair, trying to urge him closer as I panted shallow breaths. He nipped at my collarbone, a deep groan echoing through my home.

  “I could barely think of anything else all night.” His breath tickled my chest as he spoke. He pulled back to look me in the eyes, his fingers drawing a pattern on my neck and shoulder. “Mine?”

  I frowned, confused by what he was asking. “Yes, I’m yours.”

  His expression darkened, and he squeezed my neck. “Emily, I meant the bruises. These marks on your neck and shoulder. Are they from me?”

  “Who else would they be from?”

  “Don’t get snippy. Not after tonight.”

  “You’re telling me not to get snippy? Excuse me, but you’ve been seething ever since the theatre. Not to mention you hardly glanced at me the whole night.”

  His low growl vibrated against my flesh as he tightened his hand around my neck. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t prepared to find out the woman I’m currently playing with actually belongs to my oldest friend. Cut me some slack, Emily.”

  I frowned up at Sam. “I don’t belong to Garret.”

  “Really?” he asked, thumb stroking the column of my throat, up and down in a seductive rhythm. “Miss LA? Short for Lacroix? You may as well wear Garret’s collar instead of joking about it.”

  I closed my eyes and sighed. “I hesitated at using my own name at The Noire House, and it was the first thing that popped into my head. All I needed was for someone to recognize me. I’m not saying I’m famous—not like you—but I’m not a complete unknown. At least not in the local dance community.” I opened my eyes and sent him a look, pleading with him to understand. “I wanted to maintain my reputation.”

  Sam stared at me a full minute before his hand slipped lower, palm pressing into my sternum. “This complicates things, Emily.”

  He whispered the words so softly, I heard only because we stood so close.

  “My being a dancer? What does that matter? Because you’re a legendary choreographer?”

  Sam shook his head and leaned closer, nuzzling the bruises on my neck and shoulder. “No. I mean Garret.” A hot, wet stroke punctuated his words, sending a shiver down my spine. “I wasn’t exaggerating earlier. Emily, he cares deeply for you. He may not have mentioned me to you, but he’s spoken of you often over the years.” Sam pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder before meeting my gaze. “This? Us? It would devastate him.”

  He stepped away, leaving me to sag against the door.

  “So, what? I don’t get a choice?” My voice broke, which I hated. It made me sound like a petulant child and that was just ridiculous, given the situation.

  “Of course you get a choice.” Sam paced the tiny area between the front door and the end of the modest living room. “Just not me. I can’t do that to him.”

  I stared, in awe of his words when not two minutes ago he’d been laving the bruises he’d left on my body. Tension rolled off of him like thick smoke. It filled the shotgun house I rented, seeping into the cracks in the walls. I got the distinct impression he was at war with himself, and I pitied him for just a moment.

  While I also didn’t want to hurt Garret, we’d long since decided we were not a match. Did he expect me to remain alone forever? Or worse, did he hope to one day convince me to agree to be collared? I couldn’t believe either one of those options. I loved Garret, and I wanted him to be happy—no matter what that meant. Surely he felt the same way about me.

  Sam didn’t seem to notice me stepping closer, jolting when I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Emily, please. I can’t.”

  I didn’t respond, unable to think of an argument. One that wouldn’t sound selfish. Instead, I edged closer and leaned my head against the middle of Sam’s back, slipping my hands around his torso.

  That was all it took to change his mind. Or at least to drive him to action.

  Sam turned sharply and captured my lips with his. Strong hands enveloped my waist, his hold firmer, better than any partner I’d ever had in ballet classes. His mouth devoured mine, kissing me as though it would keep him alive. I gasped when he nipped at my bottom lip, soothing the sting with a wicked stroke of his tongue.

  “Bedroom?” he asked, voice breathy and strained.

  I panted, staring at his mouth. “Right at the end of the house.”

  Without any further warning, Sam lifted me up against him and carried me deeper into my home. On instinct, I wrapped my arms and legs around him, soaking up his warmth. We passed the kitchen and bathroom before a hard thud and Sam’s curse echoed against the walls.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, stubbed my toe.”

  I couldn’t stop the giggle from rising up, barely managing to hold it in while he scowled at the offending doorway. “I’m sorry, but that’s what you get for acting like a caveman.”

  “Not my fault this is the tiniest house known to man.”

  I pressed my lips together, laughter gone and in its place a deep shame of having such a modest home. Sam noticed straight away, using one hand to cup my cheek.

  “Hey, that wasn’t meant as an insult. In fact, this was supposed to be romantic. Or at the very least sexy.”

  He kissed me, and I melted against him. His hand drifted to my nape, his grip hard and fierce in the most delicious way. With my arms around his shoulders and my legs encircling his hips, Sam’s other hand was free to wander, caressing the length of my waist.

  His palm collided with my ass in a hard swat, and I jumped, breaking the kiss. “That’s for laughing.”

  The grin on his face told me he wasn’t all that upset about it, but he gave me another firm spank.

  The mood lifted, Sam stepped into my bedroom, and I did a quick mental check of how it looked earlier. In my haste, I’d left it less than perfect, but it was good enough. With any luck, he’d be more interested in me, and I wouldn’t have to worry at all.

  Sam set me on my bed and leaned into me, pressing me back against the cool sheets. His kisses started sweet, but soon grew deeper, more possessive. His mouth travelled down my chin and across the column of my throat, kissing the bruises he’d made the other night. He bit and sucked at my tender skin, and I yelped.

  “Naked,” he said against my ear. “I want you fucking naked.”

  I nodded, eager and nervous all at once. It didn’t matter that I was exhausted from a long week and the gala, nor the emotional rollercoaster induced by dinner with Garret and Sam. What did matter was that I wanted this—I wanted Sam. Wanted to see if the other night was a fluke or if he could make me come again.

  The glide of the zipper at my side sounded loud against the pounding in my ears. Sam’s hands edged underneath the skirt, fingers brushing my thighs as he pushed the fabric up to my hips. He lingered there a moment, catching my gaze before pushing it all the way up and over my head. The strap tugged on my staid ballet bun, but Sam freed it with ease. I hadn’t bothered with a bra, so I lay there, clad only in a skimpy lace thong while Sam was still fully clothed.

  “Turn over.”

  I shivered at the command w
hile he edged back, giving me room to wriggle onto my stomach. When I faced the sheets, Sam gripped my wrists and brought them down to the small of my back before he leaned over me. His clothes brushed my bare skin, and his breath tickled my ear.

  “Do you remember your safeword, Emily?”

  I nodded since I doubted my voice would be more than a whimper if I spoke. Sam growled, vibrations running along my spine and suddenly the light pressure on my back was gone. His hands landed on my hips, tugging me roughly to the edge of the bed so my legs dangled off the side.

  “Up. Bend over the bed. Feet flat on the floor.” His voice had hardened to steel, and the minute I followed the order, he nudged my legs further apart with his foot. “I’m going easy on you since this is your first time. Usually I’ll make you spread your legs as wide as possible.”

  Something crossed between a gasp and a whimper left my lips, and I closed my eyes. My body hummed, heart crashing against my chest with every beat.

  “Safewords.” He placed one of his hands on my wrists still loosely crossed at the small of my back, applying faint pressure so my ass arced up. “I want you to say them.”

  I tried, but nothing except air ghosted over my lips on the first attempt. His fingers tightened around my wrists, clenching to add the tiniest bite of pain. “Fire,” I croaked out, and Sam ran his free palm up my waist in a soothing caress. “And smoke.”

  “Good girl,” he whispered.

  A split second later, his hand at my waist disappeared, then cracked against my bare ass. I cried out, more from shock than pain. My right cheek stung, a gentle tingle that was not even half as painful as falling during an arabesque. Sam smoothed his palm over my skin, the seconds ticking by before his hand lifted. And smacked into my left ass cheek.

  “How’s your back?” he asked as he followed the spank with another light rub of his hand. “Emily. I don’t want to hurt you. Really hurt you, I mean. You have to tell me if I’m tweaking your injury.”

  A flush rose up my neck. I hated that Sam knew about this. Hated that it played a part in this dynamic between us now. “It’s fine,” I whispered, unwilling to break the moment. “I promise.”