Take the Lead

by Alexis Daria

  She surrendered completely.

  The orgasm took her by surprise. Pleasure so intense could surely not be topped. And yet . . .

  He slammed into her hard, locking his pelvis to hers. And in the process, she unlocked, and went flying over the edge into an abyss of pure, perfect sensation, one she never wanted to leave.

  He shuddered over her, holding both of them up as he let out a deep groan. His cock jerked inside her and she gasped.

  It had been a given that sex with Stone would be amazing. She hadn’t expected it to be a religious experience.

  Breathing hard, he lowered her to the bed—still gentle, still controlled. He didn’t drop her, even though his body began to tremble. When she was settled, he crashed onto the mattress beside her and buried his face in her hair. One arm snaked around her waist and pulled her to his side.

  Aww. The mountain man liked to cuddle. Pleased, she scooted closer.

  His lips touched her shoulder in a light kiss. Her heart melted a little.

  Don’t do that, she wanted to say, but it seemed ridiculous to be scared of a simple kiss after what they’d just done.

  After a few minutes, Stone propped himself up on one elbow. His hair was a mess, so she smoothed it away from his face. With a small smile, he leaned in to kiss her mouth.

  The look in his eyes was so sweet, so tender, she wanted to look away. Except she couldn’t. He drew her in with his patient awareness, as if he knew she needed a few minutes to collect herself and figure out a way to make things easy and light between them again.

  They still had to work together. Still had to partner together until . . . well, for however long he remained on the show. Hopefully until the finals.

  And then what? He’d head back to Alaska. Gone, as if he’d never been here. And she would . . . well, it all depended on whether she still had a job at the end of this or not. And she’d just slept with her partner.

  Again.

  “Stop thinking,” he said in a light voice, trailing a hand down her ribs.

  “Can’t help it.”

  “Why?” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “You’re going to make me think I didn’t do a good enough job of distracting you.”

  She laughed and placed a hand on his chest, tracing the defined contours of his muscles. “You’re very distracting and you did a very good job.”

  “So why are you frowning?”

  “Am I?” Now she was. “Huh.”

  “You can tell me, Gina. Whatever’s on your mind. I’m a good listener.”

  She played with the ends of his hair. It was so pretty. Maybe he’d let her brush it. “I know you are.” She exhaled slowly. “This isn’t really a great after-sex topic, though.”

  He shifted them so they lay on their backs, staring up at the ceiling. His bicep acted as her pillow. It was like they’d finally finished what they’d started in Central Park, in the sleepy meadow. He was warm, and smelled masculine and comforting.

  False comfort. There was no point in getting attached.

  She sighed. Might as well tell him why. Nothing like talking about an ex to send a guy running for the hills.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “There’s a reason why I don’t date people in the industry. I did it once, and it went . . . badly.”

  Stone tensed. Maybe this wasn’t a great topic to bring up. But he wanted Gina to feel like she could to talk to him. She held a lot inside, masking her anxieties and hurts under a sunny exterior. He wanted to be someone she felt comfortable with, someone she could reveal her thoughts and feelings to.

  Someday, he hoped he’d be able to do the same with her.

  “Once upon a time I dated a former dance partner.”

  “Mm-hmm.” His jaw clenched audibly.

  Straddling his thighs, she ran her hands up his chest and gave him a sleepy smile. “Don’t worry. You are, by far, the hottest man I have ever danced with.”

  “Danced with or—” He waggled his eyebrows to make her laugh. “Danced with?”

  She giggled and settled her head on his chest. “Both.”

  He wrapped his arms around her. They were so used to touching each other, there was none of the usual awkwardness after a first fuck. All the dancing had led them to this point. “Keep talking.”

  “Ruben was in the dance troupe I joined when I was a teenager. I hadn’t made much of a name for myself yet when we started dating. Ruben had—or at least, that’s how it seemed to me—and he talked a lot about how we were going to take the dance world by storm together. I thought he meant it.”

  “I sense a rude awakening coming up.”

  “You guessed it. We entered a competition, and I choreographed the dance for the final showcase. That asshole Ruben took full credit for it. When I pointed out to him that it was my dance, he told me, ‘Jealousy isn’t a good look, Gina.’ Then he told everyone else in the troupe we were sleeping together, which got me pulled from the competition because they thought it would get in the way of my ability to dance, either with him or with others, and that it might be hard for me to see him dance with other women.”

  Stone exhaled, more of a growl than a sigh. Gina patted his shoulder.

  “I learned my lesson—don’t get involved with people I’m working with.”

  Ah. That certainly explained some things. It didn’t seem kind to point out the obvious, but he did it anyway. “You broke that rule for me.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” She looked away. “So I did.”

  He cupped her cheek and gently turned her to face him. “Why, Gina?” He needed to know.

  Her eyes were dark, as if the lamplight couldn’t penetrate their depths. “I wanted you too much.” She swallowed. “I don’t think you’ll betray me. And besides, you’re, like, industry adjacent.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “We’re dance partners.”

  “I know, but . . .” She gave his shoulder a flick. “Yeah, I broke my rule for you, and I don’t regret it. Happy? But I don’t want anyone to know about us.”

  On some level, it made sense that Gina would want to keep this secret, so he’d go along with it.

  On another level, he was so over the moon he wanted everyone to know. Except neither of them had the luxury of anonymity anymore.

  “Speaking of . . . Donna mentioned something to me about a fake relationship thing?”

  Gina rolled her eyes. “Fucking Donna. She’s a meddlesome bruja.”

  “It seems like a technique that would get us more votes. We’re trying to win, right?”

  Gina’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “Not like that. I won’t pretend to have something going on with you for votes.”

  “We do have something going on. What’s the difference?”

  “My nieces watch this show, Stone. What kind of example would I be setting for them? What kind of reputation would I be building for myself in this industry if I’m pretending to sleep with my partner—or actually sleeping with him—for audience votes?”

  She sat up, gesturing with her hands as her tone grew more agitated. “I’d be playing right into the stereotype I’m trying so hard to break—the promiscuous Latina who no one takes seriously. I won’t do that. Yes, I’ll wear sexy costumes and do sexy dances, but there’s a fine line between being sexy and being sexualized. The real me comes through in the package, and balances the characters I play in the dances. I want to be known as someone who works hard and works well with others, not for crossing boundaries and compromising my integrity to win.” She stared at him for a long moment, pleading with her eyes. “Do you understand?”

  He nodded and brushed a hand over her hair, as if her insistence on keeping him a secret hadn’t just ripped his heart out of his chest. “Perfectly.”

  “Good.” She put her head back on his pecs and wiggled around. “Now, can we snuggle a bit before I have to kick you out? Natasha won’t be away all night, and I don’t want her to know you were here.”

  * * *

  Stone waited for the taxi outside
Gina’s building. He’d rather walk, the better to burn off restlessness, but no one walked in LA.

  Besides, he had rehearsal in the morning.

  Gina’s words slashed at him. He was doing exactly what she’d said she wouldn’t do—compromising his integrity for money.

  Well, not money exactly. For family. Still, it was close enough.

  He’d always done what his family had asked of him. When they’d told him to drop everything and move with them to a little clearing in the Alaskan bush with nothing on it but a film crew, he had quit his job, ended his relationship, and grown out his hair and beard for the role. When they producers realized early on that Stone had a hard time playing his part, they cut back on his behind-the-scenes interviews and made him take his shirt off whenever possible. And he’d gone along with it.

  He’d already told Gina about the not-bear, but he burned to tell her the rest of it. How Living Wild was all a lie. He and his family were promoting a made-for-TV image of themselves that masked the dysfunction they never even talked about. Reed’s drug problem. Winter and Raven’s struggles with social anxiety. Wolf . . . actually, hyperactive Wolf was best suited to living in the wilderness, and he chafed when they weren’t filming. Stone just wanted his normal, quiet life back. He wanted the peace he felt when he was alone, truly alone, in Alaska. And Violet and Lark deserved a chance at a normal life, too. They were growing up in the weird, in-between world of reality TV. It couldn’t be good for them.

  It was the shit that kept him up at night, the shit he couldn’t talk to anyone about. By filming in a remote location around people who didn’t give a damn what they were doing, they’d managed to fly under the radar for four seasons. But it came with a cost. No real relationships outside the family. Especially for him, since he had such a hard time hiding the truth. And now, the closer he got to Gina, the more he wanted to tell her.

  Would she even respect him afterward? And what difference would it make? At the end of The Dance Off, whenever that was for him, he was going back to Alaska. Did he even care what she thought?

  Hell yeah, he did. He cared a great deal what she thought of him. Right now, she thought enough of him to break her own rules and take him into her bed, into her body. It was a gift he didn’t take for granted.

  What would she think if she knew the truth?

  Didn’t matter. He couldn’t tell her, even if he wanted to. The best he could do was be himself—his true self—and avoid talking about the rest.

  He hoped it would be enough.

  The car pulled up to the curb and he climbed in.

  At least next week was Broadway-themed. He didn’t know shit about musicals, so that was one thing he didn’t have to pretend.

  How the hell was he supposed to pretend he didn’t care about Gina?

  * * *

  At their first rehearsal, she’d told him to put whatever he was feeling into the dance, and for the next two weeks, that’s what they did. He and Gina grabbed time together whenever they could—away from the cameras, and when Natasha was out. When they were on camera, they channeled their crackling chemistry into the dances. It was a physical thing, a third entity dancing with them in the rehearsal room—not counting the actual physical entities of their producers, PAs, and camera crew.

  For Broadway Night, Gina choreographed an emotional contemporary routine with lots of lifts. Stone was shirtless for the second week in a row, clad only in gray pajama bottoms while Gina wore a tan tank top and floaty skirt. It was the simplest of their costumes, yet afforded the most ease of movement. The theme of their song was forgiveness, which struck a little too close to home.

  If she ever found out the truth about him and his show, he hoped she’d forgive him.

  Maybe she was right about emotions coming through in the dance, because it was his favorite of all the ones they’d done. The judges loved it and gave him his first perfect score. They praised his intensity and strength, and said they wanted to see him try a faster, livelier dance, to show his more jovial side and make up for his abysmal jive in the third episode.

  Earning a one hundred percent lit a fire in them. They’d almost been caught by Natasha, who’d come home while they were cuddling in post-coital bliss. In a whispered argument, Stone reasoned that Natasha probably guessed they were together, but Gina had handed him his shoes and shoved him out the door the second they heard the shower turn on.

  The next week was Silver Screen Night. They danced an upbeat, lighthearted waltz to a classic movie musical, designed to showcase Stone’s hold and improved footwork.

  Amazing how falling for someone like Gina lightened his step.

  They wore matching gray and ice blue formal wear for their traditional waltz. It satisfied the judges, who gave him ninety percent and certified him a contender for the semi-finals, but they still claimed they wanted to see more.

  Meanwhile, one couple was sent home every week. On Broadway Night, Beto and Jess went home. Then, on Silver Screen Night, to everyone’s surprise, Dwayne and Natasha were eliminated.

  And then there were six: two Olympic athletes, two hot young TV stars, the rock star, and the reality TV survivalist.

  Stone still had two eliminations to survive before the finals, including the double elimination after the semi-finals, and he was the least famous celebrity left on the show—by far.

  He wanted Gina to win. She was the best, as far as he was concerned. Not that he was biased.

  Okay, he was biased, but he cared about her, and he didn’t want her to lose her job because he wasn’t good enough.

  And it bugged him that he couldn’t turn his mind off from the idea of the showmance. Not that it would be just for show, of course. There was genuine affection between them, even though neither had voiced it.

  That wasn’t exactly true. She’d told him she liked him. That was something.

  I like you, too, Stone.

  The feeling was mutual. And the word was woefully inadequate for all he felt for her.

  * * *

  “He’s going to be so surprised.” Natasha grinned and took another handful of the plantain chips Gina munched on in the rehearsal room.

  The night before, Natasha and Dwayne had been voted off the show, so Tash was fair game to join their trio dance for next week’s episode.

  Gina washed her chips down with seltzer. “He said you were a good teacher, so now he gets to experience the joy of being coached by both of us at the same time.”

  “Double-teamed,” Tash said with a laugh.

  Gina shot a glance at the cameras and covered her mouth to suppress a snort. “That doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

  “Maybe it does.” Tash raised her eyebrows suggestively.

  Stone walked in at that moment, and Gina and Tash dissolved into giggles.

  He froze. “Wait, I’m dancing with both of you next week?”

  “Were you asleep when Juan Carlos explained that this is Team Up Week?” Tash teased.

  “I just . . .” He looked back and forth between them. “Shit, I’m in for it, aren’t I?”

  Tash nodded and pranced over to him. “We have a samba, too.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s a fun dance,” Gina explained. “Party atmosphere. It’s originally an Afro-Brazilian dance, but ballroom samba is different.”

  “Lots of bouncing,” Tash added.

  Stone bounced on tiptoe, like he was about to shoot a basketball. “Like this?”

  “Sort of. You’re pushing forward on your toes, but it’s about the rise and fall.” Gina beckoned Tash over and held her hands. Gina counted and they demonstrated a few moves, bobbing up and down as they danced across the floor.

  Stone raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think I can do that.”

  “Of course you can.” Tash grabbed his hips and counted out the beat.

  “Nail the bounce, and you’ll nail the samba,” Gina said.

  Tash pointed a finger at her. “Along with threesome samba rolls.�
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  Stone groaned and Gina shook her head. “Again, that doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

  Tash winked. “Again, maybe it does.”

  They ended early after spending most of the day practicing the basic samba steps with Tash. On top of the trio samba, they were paired with Lauren and Kevin for a team dance—and they didn’t have much time to choreograph or practice.

  Once Tash was unmic’d, she pulled Gina out to the tiny kitchenette while Stone made a trip to the restroom.

  Tash grabbed Gina’s mic and unplugged it.

  “Hey, what’re you—”

  Tash pressed a finger to her lips and beckoned Gina closer. Gina put her head next to her roommate’s, sneaking a glance at the doorway.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  “How long have you been fucking him?” Natasha hissed.

  Gina reared back, heart pounding. Damn it. “Um . . .”

  Natasha wagged a finger at her. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

  “Fine. I won’t.” Even though she’d just checked, Gina glanced around again. No point asking how Tash knew. They’d been friends since they were fourteen. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  “Pssh. I can keep a secret. Can you?” With her eyebrows raised to dangerous heights, Tash sailed out of the room with a flippant “Ciao!”

  Gina met up with Stone in the hallway. He was seconds away from turning his lav mic back on. She grabbed his hand to stop him.

  “Natasha knows,” she said in a low voice.

  He just shrugged, which did nothing to ease her anxiety. “So? Isn’t she your friend?”

  “Of course. She won’t tell anyone.”

  He smiled and lifted his hands to frame her face. She took a step back and he frowned. “So, what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is that we’re somehow being indiscreet.”

  He shrugged again. “Maybe Natasha just knows you really well.”

  “Maybe.” She wasn’t convinced. “Let’s go. Lauren and Kevin are waiting for us.”