by Devney Perry
I nodded, not having much else to say as the pilot began his descent to the landing pad.
The Kendrick fortune was unfathomable. It was impossible for me to wrap my head around that kind of money. I owned hundred-thousand-dollar rental homes in Kalispell, Montana. They owned a tower in Manhattan.
The pilot put us down on the rooftop, the blades whirling above us as we opened the door and stepped out, taking our bags with us.
The duffel bag I’d packed for the trip was a cheap thing I’d picked up years ago in a department store. One of the straps was broken and I’d duct taped it back together. When I’d handed it over to the flight attendant at the runway this morning, I’d regretted not buying a new suitcase. As I walked beside Logan into the elevator off the helipad, I covered the tape with my hand.
This was so damn intimidating.
At the elevator, instead of pushing the button to the ground floor, Logan pulled out his wallet, held it to a pad next to the buttons and pressed P. The access card in his wallet lit up the button on the board.
“Thanks for letting me tag along,” I told him.
“Anytime.” It was the same response he’d given me the other six times I’d said thanks.
The ride was short, but before the doors opened, Logan looked over and grinned. “See you on Monday.”
The doors opened with a ding. He took a step out first, waving to a receptionist before walking to a huge glass office in the corner. Aubrey stood from her desk and hurried to the door to greet her brother.
“Hey.”
My head whipped the other direction toward that sweet voice.
And there she was.
I swallowed hard. “Hey.”
Sofia’s face was made up flawlessly. Her hair was curled and falling down her chest, draping over the curve of her breasts. She’d worn black slacks today with a white silk blouse tucked into the waist.
I was in jeans and a blue button-down shirt I hadn’t thought to iron. My brown boots were scuffed, like they’d been for years. But the nerves and insecurities I’d battled all day went away.
I didn’t give a fuck what I was wearing. I didn’t give a fuck where I was standing.
Not with Sofia Kendrick racing across the lobby.
And right into my arms.
“I need.” I panted twice. “My key.”
Dakota tore his mouth away from my neck, growling as I dug into my purse for the keycard to the penthouse. I found it and reached behind me, pressing it to the space above the handle.
My back was pressed against the door, my legs wrapped around Dakota’s hips as he used an arm underneath my ass to hold me up.
The moment we’d stepped off the elevator into my private space, we’d attacked each other. The lobby outside my door was private, a waiting space for any visitors, which was good considering I’d torn Dakota’s shirt over his head two seconds ago and my blouse was open and hanging loose, showing him the sheer lace bra underneath.
Both of us had swollen lips, and I’d scratched the skin on his shoulders, clawing my way up his body. He’d left a bite mark above my collarbone.
Four months without him had been too long.
With the door unlocked, Dakota turned the knob and pushed it open, carrying me inside. I dropped my thirteen-thousand-dollar handbag, not caring that the calfskin had never once touched a floor. All I cared about was getting Dakota’s mouth back onto mine, feeling his soft, wet lips as his tongue pushed hard against my own.
His erection was digging into my core, the heat of my center permeating through my slacks and his jeans.
“Need. You.” I was barely able to breathe as I slid a hand between us and went for his zipper.
He set me down on the hand-carved table in my entryway. My ass was barely perched on the wood, but it was enough that he could reach between us and free himself from his jeans.
My heart jumped as I saw the enormous bulge trying to break free from his black boxer briefs.
His calloused fingers went to the tab on my slacks, pulling them roughly apart. The zipper ripped open as his hands gripped the fabric on my hips, yanking them away along with my panties.
The movement pulled me off the table and right into his chest. I held on to his shoulders as he stripped me down, the wide-leg slacks pooling around my heels as I kicked them free.
I hopped back up into Dakota’s arms and wrapped my legs around his back. My trainer had added a yoga regime over the last few months to help me manage stress. The results were mixed for my anxieties. But if this flexibility was a side benefit, yoga had just become a permanent practice.
Dakota yanked down the fabric of his briefs between us, fisting his cock and positioning it at my entrance.
I was primed and ready for his thrust, to be filled and stretched, but at the last second, I stopped him. “Wait.”
His eyes snapped down to mine, his chest expanding in heaves. “What?”
“Condom?”
His eyes narrowed and the sudden tense of his jaw made me scramble.
“I haven’t been with anyone,” I blurted. “Have you?”
“No.” And with that, he thrust forward, impaling me.
I cried out, my head falling backward as my eyes slammed shut. I shuddered as sheer pleasure rolled down my spine. My inner thighs trembled as he stayed rooted.
His arms were shaking as he held me up. His shoulders quivered as he held back his own release.
“Missed you.” I dropped my chin and put my forehead onto his shoulder. “God, I missed you.”
Dakota took two steps, maneuvering around the table so he could plaster my back up against the wall. When I was secure, he let go of my ass with one hand and brought it up to my face, cupping my cheek. “Missed you too.”
I smiled then gave him my lips for a soft, sweet kiss. That was the only tender moment between us.
The frenzy that had brought us barreling into my penthouse returned, and we went at each other like animals.
My first orgasm came fast and with such force that my skull banged into the wall behind me.
After that, Dakota moved a hand to the back of my head, keeping it in place the entire time he fucked me with a relentless rhythm until I shattered around him once more, coaxing his own orgasm free.
With a spinning head and wobbling legs, Dakota put me down, his come dripping down my legs. That sexy smirk of his, the one he had whenever I was marked with his release, made him look so devilishly handsome.
“Thank you for coming.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t have to thank me. The pleasure was all mine.”
I laughed. “Thanks for coming to New York.”
“Welcome.” He grinned. “From what I’ve seen, it’s an awesome city.”
“Do you feel like doing some sightseeing?”
“Yeah.” He dropped his gaze to his bare cock, standing thick and glistening, ready for another go. “Let’s start with your bedroom.”
“Where do you want to go first?” I asked Dakota as we slid into the town car parked along the curb of my building.
“Your studio.”
I smiled and looked to my driver, Glen, in the rearview mirror. “To the studio, please.”
“Yes, Ms. Kendrick.” He nodded and rolled up the partition between us.
Dakota and I hadn’t left my penthouse yesterday after he’d arrived. We’d spent the rest of the day in my bed, remembering how it felt to be together. We’d ordered in dinner and eaten it at my kitchen island. Then he’d fucked me again, this time on the beige couch in my living room.
Surrounded by my classic furniture and a spring mix of white flowers on my coffee table, I’d finally figured out what had been bugging me for four months. I’d realized what had been missing from my home.
Him.
I’d been missing him, and he hadn’t even been in my apartment before.
But sitting on my couch alone was miserable compared to cuddling into his chest. Standing in the kitchen was lonely when he wasn’t t
here, teaching me how to cook. My bedroom was too quiet at night without his heavy breathing into my hair.
Not so deep down, I’d known it for months. Which was probably why I’d thrown myself so completely into the studio. It had given me a reason not to be at home. Not here, where I was alone.
I’d gotten into a routine over the last three months, one that kept me away as much as possible. I’d get up, go to the gym then come home and get ready for the day. I’d have a latte and visit with Carrie before heading out. Then I’d spend the rest of my time at my temporary office at Kendrick Enterprises, the one I’d been using up until my office at the studio was finished just last week.
Working two floors down from Aubrey had become extremely convenient since she’d managed to cut some things from her schedule in order to give me advice on starting up a business.
Still, with all of my planning, I had never been this nervous.
“It’s not much,” I warned Dakota.
“Doesn’t have to be. Tell me about it.”
I took a deep breath. “It’s in Midtown, not all that far from my family’s building.”
Aubrey lived about five blocks from the studio. She’d chosen a sprawling penthouse in Midtown rather than SoHo or Tribeca because she wanted to be close to work, whereas I’d chosen my neighborhood because celebrities flocked to those areas.
“So, dance?” Dakota asked. “Ballet?”
“Originally, I’d thought just ballet. But then I decided to offer all kinds of dance. My jitterbug lesson with Wayne was an inspiration.”
He chuckled. “I like it. What else?”
“It’s just for kids eighteen and under. I might expand it someday for adults, but this is where I thought it would be best to start.”
“Good thinking.”
I looked up at his profile, studying the stern, straight set of his nose. That his serious brow and naturally narrowed eyes had once intimidated me now seemed funny.
I leaned closer, threading my arm through his and hugging it against my chest. Then I rested my ear on his shoulder as we navigated through the busy Manhattan streets.
“Thank you for coming.”
He kissed my temple. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Traffic was busy this morning, and the trip took more than twice as long as usual, but thirty minutes later, Glen dropped us off in front of the corner space I’d purchased in a midsize building.
“This is it.” I swung my hand out at the front door as we stood on the sidewalk, my stomach in my throat as I waited for his reaction.
The pair of us were reflected in the floor-to-ceiling windows on the front of the building. Inside, the mirror-covered walls and wooden floors gleamed in the sunlight. A sign with details for the grand opening on Monday hung on the entrance.
“Midtown Dance Studio.” Dakota read the name written on the glass in classic white blocked letters. Underneath was the website address and phone number.
“Too boring?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No, not at all. It’s clean. Simple. Easy to remember and google. Except you don’t have your name anywhere.”
“I didn’t want my name on this place.”
His forehead furrowed. “Why not? You should be damn proud of this.”
“It’s not that. I just . . . I didn’t want it to be showy. I didn’t want it to be about me.”
“Huh?”
I pulled his hand and led him to the front door, where I got out my keys and unlocked the latch. Inside, the place still smelled like fresh paint. The crew had just finished up the lobby two mornings ago. I’d had a final walk-through with the foreman yesterday, a couple of hours before I’d gone to Kendrick Enterprises to wait for Dakota.
Flipping on a light, I walked up to the reception counter, where I had stacks of our intake paperwork.
I pulled a flyer from behind the counter and handed it over to Dakota, shifting back and forth on my wedged heels as he read the sheet.
I worn jeans today, knowing he’d be in them too. I’d reverted back to my normal New York style over the last four months, wearing clothes that fit better for a future businesswoman and philanthropist.
But today, I didn’t need to dress for meetings. Today, I was dressed for pure fun. Something else I’d missed. Starting the studio had been exhilarating, fun at times, but also full of strife. I had no doubt that today would be one of the best I’d had in four months.
I’d fallen back into old routines since leaving Montana. I’d developed some new ones, namely this business and throwing myself into it headfirst, but since my drinks with Aubrey all those months ago, I hadn’t left the penthouse without makeup. I’d dressed impeccably each day.
Maybe that was why it had taken so long to call Dakota. I’d been worried that this version of Sofia, the one who was still trying to find herself, wouldn’t be the one he wanted.
I’d been worried that he’d already moved on.
When I’d called him two weeks ago, it had been from this very spot.
The walls in the studio hadn’t been painted their cream yet. The Sheetrock had just been taped and textured. The floors had been draped in plastic and splattered with drywall compound. My office had been a mess of supplies and things waiting to get put away.
When I’d called Dakota, I’d been close to panic. I’d been so sure this would be a failure I’d nearly had a breakdown.
But just one hello from him and it had all gone away.
I’d stood there, staring at my mess, and had known I could see it through.
“It’s free?” Dakota asked after he finished reading the flyer.
“Yes, it’s free. Kids from low-income families don’t have to pay. We ask those who can afford lessons to simply make donations when they are able.”
I wanted all kids to get to have dance lessons. Somehow, my lessons had been the thing to stick with me. They’d been the quiet passion I’d kept for all these years. I didn’t want to deny that to any child in the city just because they couldn’t afford one of the pricey studios nearby.
“So you’re running a business and a charity?”
I shrugged. “Well, not me. At first, I was going to try and do it all myself, but then I had a couple of meetings with Aubrey and, well, I saw some shortcomings. If I really wanted this place to be a success, I needed help from people who are better at the business side. So I hired an operations manager who is going to run the day-to-day. And there are teachers who will teach the actual dance classes.”
I knew my limitations well enough to know that, while I found the business strategy interesting, it wasn’t my forte. If we were going to grow, I needed help. I was the creator and artistic director. I would play a key role in fundraising. But my staff would take on the rest. That way, I could keep my freedom and wouldn’t have to commit to being here every day.
“So far we have about a hundred kids signed up,” I told him. “That’s enough to fill most of the evening classes. But I’m hoping we’ll get more. The manager and I were talking about reaching out to inner-city children’s programs and having kids bussed here, since their parents might not be able to afford transportation.”
Dakota nodded and pointed to the glass separating the parent observation area and the actual dance room. “Can we go in?”
“Sure.” I led him past the reception counter and down a hallway, pointing to the various doors as we walked. “Locker rooms are on the right, one for boys and one for girls. Next is my manager’s office. And mine is at the end of the hallway.”
I took a left through the open, double doors into the dance studio. It was dim, only lit up by the sunshine streaming through the front windows. But it was wide and open. Along the back wall ran a bar for the ballet classes.
“This is something.” Dakota walked deeper into the space, taking it all in as he lapped the room. “Why’d you decide to do it for free?”
“It’s not like I need the money,” I teased. “But mostly because I didn’t want to risk turning my passion i
nto something negative.”
“What do you mean?”
“My dad worked all the time when I was growing up. He still does. He never made it to one of my dance recitals because there was always a conflict, a meeting or an event. My grandfather worked just as hard as Dad does, right up until he died. My sister is worse than both of them. So I guess I’ve always seen work as this bad thing. Up until you.”
“Me?”
I nodded. “You showed me that even working in an old bar in Montana can be fun. That there is joy to be found in a job. I’ve never had one. So for my first real job, I want to make sure it’s something that won’t ever ruin my passion. The best way I could think of doing that was to make sure it never became about the money.”
Dakota nodded but didn’t say anything as he continued to walk the room in a slow circle, inspecting every inch. My anxiety grew tenfold with each of his steps.
“Do—” I swallowed hard, dreading his answer. “Do you think that’s stupid?”
“No.” He stopped walking and leveled me with his gaze. “It’s brilliant.”
The urge to cry hit hard, and I choked on the lump in my throat. I so wanted to share this opening with Dakota. He had been such an inspiration to me. But more than I wanted him here, I wanted him to think my idea was special.
Because I thought everything about him was remarkable.
I blinked away the tears prickling the corners of my eyes. My chin fell, hiding my watery gaze as Dakota’s footsteps came closer.
His boots stopped close to my toes as his hand came to my cheek, cupping it and turning my face up to his.
“I’m such a crier.” I sniffled. “I’m pitiful.”
“Don’t say that,” he whispered.
Just like that, we were out of my studio and back in Lark Cove, where he’d said the same thing to me over a pile of peanut shells. Back to the place where I’d fallen for him.
A tear dripped down my cheek without permission, but he caught it with his thumb. “I’m proud of you. So damn proud.”
