ANOTHER SKY

by Jayne Frost

  I slipped a finger into her heat, and she groaned.

  “This?”

  She shook her head, even as she rocked against my hand. I continued to work her, adding another finger as I took her mouth in a kiss.

  She was so fucking wet. So ready.

  I swallowed her whimper when I pulled out to grab the condom I’d hidden beneath the pillow.

  She watched with hooded eyes as I rolled the latex over my shaft. And fuck. The way her tongue darted out and her breath came in small pants. So hot.

  She tilted her hips, and I was right there, my tip at her entrance.

  “You ready, baby?”

  She nodded, her eyes widening as I pushed in an inch.

  “All of it, Miles…please.”

  Resting my forehead on hers, I thrusted with as much restraint as I could manage.

  “Oh…God…” she moaned, fingernails digging into my shoulders. “A minute…” she panted, then blew out a slow, controlled breath, her gaze locked onto mine. “This…I never knew…” With a little shake of her head, she smiled. “More.”

  Reaching between us, I found her clit.

  “You move,” I roughed out, not sure I’d be able to keep from slamming into her.

  Her hips glided forward, and my toes curled. She found her rhythm, wrapping her legs around my waist.

  Slowly, I started to match her thrusts, whispering praises between fevered kisses. You’re beautiful. And…yes, fuck yes, just like that. And…take it, baby, take it all.

  She relaxed, giving in to the pleasure, my name on her lips and her eyes on mine when she flew apart moments later.

  I brushed the hair off her brow as the waves took her, committing every sight and sound to memory. Wherever she went, and whatever she did, I’d always be her first. In some small way, we’d be tied together.

  Forever.

  Gelsey

  Rain.

  I heard it in my dreams. Tiny droplets splattering against the tent and dying with a hiss in the dwindling fire outside. And it was so cold.

  But, why?

  Miles was here, wrapped around me. Like he had been all night.

  Only he wasn’t.

  Sitting up with a start, I scrubbed the sleep out of my eyes. It was light. After dawn, for sure, but gray. Probably thanks to the rain.

  And I was alone.

  “Miles…?”

  Heart pounding, I looked around for something to throw on over my panties. Finding my paper flower crushed on the ground, a wave of panic rose in my throat.

  Miles wouldn’t leave. Of course, he wouldn’t.

  Your own father left. Get a clue.

  The rational side of my brain tried valiantly to seize control as I yanked my wrinkled sundress over my head. But the tiny part of me that had no faith whatsoever in humanity was clearly in charge.

  Swallowing a sob, I crawled toward the open tent flap, nearly colliding with Miles when he ducked inside. I blinked up at him and tried to speak, but when I opened my mouth, nothing came out.

  He dropped to his knees, hot chocolate breaching the rim of the cup in his hand. “Baby, what is it?”

  Shaking my head, I flipped over onto my butt and pulled my knees to my chest. “N-Nothing. I j-just…”

  Can’t breathe.

  Miles pulled me onto his lap and cradled my face in his hands. “Talk to me, sweetheart.” His eyes locked onto mine. “Are you in pain?”

  I fought to drag air into my lungs. “P-Panic attack.”

  Hopefully. Either that or my heart was going to explode. Tingling spread to my fingers and toes, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

  “It’s all right.” He crushed me to his chest, long fingers digging into my hair. “You’re all right. Just breathe.”

  Humiliation burned hot when the tears came. All the worse because I was relieved. Miles was here. He didn’t sneak off in the middle of the night. Logically, I knew that. And even if he had, besides the obvious problem of getting back to Austin, I shouldn’t have cared that much. People left. But the thought of Miles being one of those people…

  Pushing the notion aside, I melted into familiar arms. “Sorry.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “I didn’t know you had panic attacks.”

  “I don’t. Usually. After my mom died, and we lost our house, I felt kind of—I don’t know how to explain it—like I didn’t belong anywhere. When my dad started driving a truck and leaving me alone in our new apartment, I had a couple of really bad attacks. But then I learned to handle it.”

  My thumb automatically moved to stroke the empty finger where my mama’s ring used to sit. Why hadn’t I gone back to the pawn shop this week? I had the money now.

  I dashed the tears from my cheeks when Miles pulled back to look at me with an odd expression. Like…he couldn’t decide what to do or what to say.

  He dug his hand into the pocket of his jeans and sighed. “I know I should have said something. But I figured you’d refuse. I had Daryl pay off your title loan. And he came back with this.”

  The anger that had flared the second he’d uttered the words “title loan” melted away as his fingers unfurled, revealing the rubies and diamonds. My tears spilled over again as he pressed the ring against my palm.

  Slipping the band back around my finger, I tried to speak through the sobs threatening to break free. “Thank you. It’s all I have left of her.”

  The pattering against the tent forced me back into the moment, and I scrambled to my knees, scrutinizing him for any signs of…whatever.

  “It’s raining.” I framed his face in my hands. “Miles, are you all right?”

  He took my lips in a quick kiss. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Resting his forehead against mine, he lowered us to the ground.

  This time he didn’t ask permission. His hands were everywhere. On my breasts. Between my legs. Curved around my thighs when he pulled me against him. But his mouth never left mine. And when he whispered, “I want you,” it was like he breathed it into my soul.

  Miles

  The one thing Gelsey had asked me to do, and I screwed it up.

  “Hold on,” I said, and she nodded, sucking in a harsh breath when I gunned the engine and slid the Lightning into the fast lane.

  I didn’t speed. Almost dying in a fiery crash cured me of that habit. Still, I kept my foot on the gas. Since it was Sunday, the roads between the airport and downtown weren’t their usual parking lot. But traffic wasn’t the issue. It was a mechanical malfunction on the jet that had caused this bullshit. A light that had flickered once and went out, according to the pilot.

  Per Tori’s instructions, and far above and beyond FAA rules, the plane had stayed grounded until an exhaustive battery of tests were performed. Putting us three hours behind schedule. Since I’d planned to arrive with four hours to spare before Gelsey’s rehearsal, we were barely late.

  From the way she was abusing her bottom lip, that didn’t matter, though.

  “Almost there,” I told her as if she couldn’t read the street signs.

  But I was on edge. Out of my comfort zone.

  This Gelsey was a stranger to me. Quiet. Reserved. Even her hair was different—pulled back in a severe bun with no loose tendrils hanging for me to play with.

  I took her hand instead, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Sorry, baby.”

  And just like that, my Gelsey appeared. Her shoulders relaxed, and she slotted her fingers through mine. “It’s not your fault. And I had a great time. Thank you for everything.”

  She shifted in her seat, and her lashes fluttered. But not in a sexy way. More like: I’m in pain because I’ve been getting drilled on the hard ground by my temporary boyfriend for the last thirty hours.

  Way to go, asshole.

  I pulled into the parking lot at the dance company at four minutes past five. Not too bad.

  I was actually quite proud of myself until Gelsey let out a little cry of distress.

  “Miles, I
have to go,” she said as she grabbed her tote. “Thanks again. I’ll see you later.”

  Hopping out of the truck, she beelined straight for some dude who’d just slipped out of the stage door.

  “Micha! Wait,” she called.

  The guy barely spared her a glance, tearing up the asphalt like his hair was on fire.

  “I’m sorry,” she cried, stepping in front of him to block his path.

  Douchebag glowered at her, and it took all my restraint not to throw the truck into gear and run him over for that sneer.

  “Save it,” he snapped. “If you’re not early, you’re late. Just because Ivan’s not here doesn’t mean you can show up whenever you want.” He looked her up and down, and his lip curled even more. “You’re not even dressed. Fuck this. I’m out.”

  He knocked her in the shoulder as he brushed past, and I shot out of my seat. Blood roared between my ears, drowning out their conversation as I strode toward them.

  “Gelsey.”

  Her gaze snapped in my direction, and relief flashed across her features. It was brief, a second at most. But that was the only encouragement I needed. Closing the remaining distance, my hand caught skin when I rested my palm on the small of her back.

  “You invited me to rehearsal. And since I’m already here…” I shrugged, then flicked a smile to the douchebag. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

  Gelsey let out a breath and lifted her chin to the arrogant prick with his arms crossed.

  “Miles, this is Micha, my dance partner. Micha this is Miles.”

  Douchebag aimed his scowl at me. And it was like someone pressed pause. All the bravado melted away and he cocked his head. “Wait…Miles Cooper? From Damaged?”

  For a second, I was stunned silent. Then muscle memory took over and I felt my face smooth despite my lingering anger. “Yeah…that’s me.”

  Micha zeroed in on my hand still pressed to Gelsey’s back.

  That’s right, buddy. Like glue.

  “You two are…”

  “Friends,” Gelsey interjected.

  Her coy little smile confirmed we were more. And I was all about it. But the way Micha’s eyes raked her over, he was more too. Or he had been. Once.

  He scratched his head, obviously confused. “You don’t even like music.” He released a huff of air. “Except for the Stones.”

  “Beatles,” Gelsey and I replied in unison.

  Whatever he’d been trying not to put together finally clicked, and suddenly Micha didn’t seem so enamored with me. Good. That would make it easier to beat the shit out of him if he stepped out of line.

  “Listen, man,” I said through an easy smile. “Sorry Gelsey was late. My fault. I took her to lunch. In South Padre.” His nostrils flared, and my grin widened. “Private jet had a mechanical.” I sighed. “What are you gonna do, right?”

  No shame. None.

  Micha’s beady eyes homed in on Gelsey. “I guess we can get started. If you’re here to work.”

  Challenge edged his tone, but my girl just smiled. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

  Undetectable poisons.

  I typed the query into my phone as I stood outside Gelsey’s dressing room waiting for her to change back into her street clothes. Given the pounding she’d taken at the hands of her dance partner, I wasn’t sure how long she’d be. And that was fine. In the meantime, I could research the most effective way to end Micha’s life. Because, after today, that was my new mission.

  Grinding my teeth into dust, I pictured Gelsey on the ground with that prick hovering over her, his hand extended like he wasn’t the one who put her there. And every fucking time, she took it, and the torture would resume. Three times he’d dropped her. Three times she’d gotten up.

  The door swung open, and Gelsey emerged, a bag of ice strapped to her hip with some kind of plastic wrap. I stepped forward to take her arm, but she gave me an odd look, dodging my attempt.

  “I’m fine,” she said through a tight smile.

  My brows went up, and she rolled her eyes.

  “We were practicing a new sequence after a two-day break. Our timing was off.”

  Shoving my hands into my pockets as we walked toward the door, I kept my attention trained straight ahead. “Didn’t see Micha on the ground much,” I mumbled. “Or at all.”

  She stopped in her tracks. “What’s that supposed to mean.” I glanced over my shoulder and found her glaring. “Do you think I didn’t try hard enough? Do you think—?”

  Fuck. What?

  “Gelsey, no.” She took a step back as I advanced, but I caught her hand. “It was Micha, not you. He looked like…”

  “What?” she bit out impatiently.

  “Like he didn’t care when you fell. Like it didn’t bother him.”

  She inhaled a slow breath. “It’s not his job to care. And you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “But—”

  “He was executing the moves. It was me who was off balance. I was a little stiff.” She shrugged, lips falling into a frown. “He could’ve adjusted. Who knows? Maybe he tried.” Sighing, her eyes fluttered closed, and I could see the frustration in her furrowed brow. “We haven’t found our groove. We might never find it. I wasn’t his choice for a partner.”

  “So…he gets to toss you around because he didn’t get his way?”

  She offered a weak smile. “He can try. But those mistakes today, they really were on me. I couldn’t react quick enough. It takes me longer to warm up. And I was late. Also, it wasn’t as bad as it looked.” My brows crashed together, but she remained steadfast. “Trust me, Micha doesn’t want me out of commission.”

  Her fingers laced through mine as we continued our trek.

  “Why’s that?” I asked, thoroughly unconvinced and still plotting his death.

  “I’m his ticket to the big show.” She hit the tension bar on the door and stepped outside. “The only way Micha gets to New York is with me.”

  “So wouldn’t that mean he’d do anything to keep you from hitting the ground?”

  She took in a lungful of night air and gazed up at the stars. “Not if it means we don’t hit the poses.” Spinning around, she walked backward, a playful smile ghosting her lips. “What’s the biggest venue you ever played? Like, your Mount Everest?”

  Easy.

  “Wembley Stadium. Ninety thousand fans.”

  “Okay… well, let’s say you had to learn a new…whatever it’s called for that show.”

  I smiled. “A riff.”

  “A riff. Right. So, you wouldn’t want to half-ass it, would you? You’d learn that riff even if it meant your wrists were on fire and your legs felt like lead.”

  Rhenn’s voice whispered from another time. A basement studio in London where we’d holed up, preparing for the most important gig of our career.

  We’re going to do it until it’s right. All night long if we have to. We’re not going on stage looking like a bunch of fucking amateurs.

  Damaged was already on top. Coasting. But good was never good enough.

  The cost of greatness.

  Sweeping the memory aside, I pulled Gelsey into my arms. “So, what can I do to help you prepare for this big gig?” Dipping my head to the crook of her neck, I dragged my nose along the soft pillar of skin, up to her ear. “Warm baths? Massages? I’m down for massages. And you can be on top from now on.”

  She hummed as if contemplating, and I felt the vibration all the way to my balls.

  Looping her arms around my waist, she peered up at me with hooded eyes.

  “Massages are good. And I wouldn’t mind being on top tonight.”

  Gelsey

  I managed to push aside all thoughts of my disastrous rehearsal until I arrived at the dance company the following day. After years of obsessing over every misstep, I considered it progress. Maybe I could have a life outside dance as long as it didn’t interfere with my routine.

  That thought flew out the window when
I pulled open the stage door and heard music floating from one of the studios. My music. Dance of the Flower.

  Checking the time on my phone, I rushed down the hallway, nearly colliding with Olga when I rounded the corner.

  “Whoa, sweetheart,” she said, grabbing my arm to steady me. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine. I just…” Glancing around, I forced a smile. “Where is everyone?”

  “Studio A. Ivan called a companywide meeting.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. “Nobody told me.”

  “Everyone was already here. Costume fittings for Swan Lake.” She cupped my cheek. “Don’t worry. If Ivan wanted you here early, he would’ve called. You know how he gets when an idea strikes. He was talking to Micha and—”

  “Micha’s here?”

  “Yes, he came in early to discuss something with Ivan and Nadia.”

  Nadia. Ivan’s right hand and assistant choreographer. Up until a few weeks ago, she’d worked exclusively with Sydney. But once upon a time, she’d been on my team. So far, though, Ivan had kept her out of the preparations for Dance of the Flower.

  “I better go,” I said, my shaky voice betraying the panic crawling up my throat. “We’ll talk later.”

  I gave her hand a squeeze before speeding off to my dressing room to change. Once my leotard and leggings were in place, I grabbed the first pair of pointe shoes off the shelf. Usually, I spent hours tearing apart the seams and customizing them for my feet. But I was in such a hurry to get out of here yesterday, I’d forgotten to take this week’s batch with me.

  Slipping my feet into the satin, I winced when my toes hit the rigid box in the front. No way. I’d end up with blisters on my blisters if I danced in these.

  Rifling through my bag, I found the pair I’d worn last week. The fabric was frayed at the toe, and the seams holding the sole in place were on their last legs. Just the way I liked them. Unfortunately, Ivan didn’t feel the same. He insisted that worn shoes were a crutch.

  Whatever.

  I tied the ribbons as tightly as I could before grabbing a towel and heading for the studio.

  My heart stuttered when I slipped inside the door and spotted Micha and Sydney in the front, running through a series of moves while the rest of the company watched. Ivan inhabited his usual spot by the piano, arms crossed, wearing an expression I couldn’t read.