Page 43 of Not Strictly Ballroom

“Please say something. You’re just standing there silently. Just be mad at me, yell at me or something!”

He still doesn’t speak, and it starts irritating me. It isn’t like him not to have something to contribute.

I’ve apologised, I’ve explained, I don’t know what else I can say.

“I’ve told you everything.”

“Have you?” he asks quietly. He looks at me from under the shock of blond hair that’s fallen over his eyes. My head scrambles around the words, looking back at what I’ve been saying for the last half an hour, pretty certain I haven’t left anything out. Then my heart feels the tug that his eyes give, the same one they always have. The one that beckons me to come closer, that encourages me to be a better version of myself, the one that I never want to be parted from.

I take a deep breath.

“I’m so scared of the future, Nick. I’m worried about what will happen to my family if I can’t do this. But the thing I’m most afraid of is not having you in my life.”

The smile he gives me is painful, but with two strides, he crosses the room and encircles me with his arms.

“There you are.” He presses a soft kiss to my forehead. “Everything you’ve said up to that point sounded like it came from your mum. They sound like the same lines you’ve been spouting most of your life, and I wanted to know what was really in here.” He lays a hand on my chest, over my heart.

“I’d rather give up everything than lose you, Nick. I love you.” I hug him close, believing that if I hold him tight everything will be okay.

He squeezes me in return.

“So, are we going to dance together at the Nationals?” I ask when his grip softens.

“No, we’re not.”

I’m confused. I just poured my heart out to him. Is he rejecting me? “But?—”

“Darcy, you’ve been my best friend for a very long time. Along the way, that developed into something much deeper. That you feel the same way has made me the happiest person alive. That doesn’t come with conditions. It doesn’t happen only if you promise to dance with me. I’m here to help you celebrate your successes and to hold you when things aren’t so good. I know you want to give saving the school your best shot. I see how hard you work to keep it going. We both know that if we dance together we wouldn’t have a chance of winning. I would never stand in your way of achieving that success—you deserve it. Dancing with Krystal is the best chance you have. I’ve seen you together. You really can win and I’ll support you every step of the way.”

He leans a little closer and nuzzles into my neck, his hands gently kneading my ass. “As long as you save some special dances for me.”

I nod and gulp, his touch having a potent effect on me. “Of course.”

A beeping sound breaks the spell, and Nick disengages himself from me to turn the oven timer off and take the cookies out. They smell delicious, and look even better.

I turn to the sink to start washing the dishes. I look out of the window at the beautiful view across the valley. I can see the row of roofs leading down to the valley floor, but across the other side is woodland and then moors and hills in the distance. I’m reminded of the time we went to Slippery Stones . . . Was it really only a few weeks ago? It feels like a lifetime. I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I nearly jump out of my skin when arms snake around my waist.

“Mmm, I missed you.” Nick kisses into my neck and I tilt my head, leaning it back onto his shoulder and enjoying his mouth on me. His hands trail lower as he plays his fingers over my jeans, and my cock swells to his touch.

“I see you’ve missed me, too,” he murmurs, unbuckling my belt.

“Nick,” I whisper. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” He unbuttons my fly and slips a hand inside, the other one gripping my hip. He wraps his hand around my length and hums at its hardness. I find it almost impossible to recall what I was about to say.

“Your gran.” I have enough presence of mind left to remember that we are not alone in the house.

“She can’t come in here.” He starts moving his hand up and down. He wipes his thumb through the precum leaking out of the tip and smears it round the head. My knees nearly buckle.

“She might hear us.” It’s my last line of defence.

“You’d better be quiet then,” he purrs, his mouth still connected to my throat.

As he picks up speed, I involuntarily wince; it’s too much. He withdraws his hand and I gasp at its loss, my cock aching, needing his hand back even though it was painful.

“Sorry, honey,” he murmurs. “I don’t have any lube, so you’re going to have to help me out here.” He holds his hand out and I lick it, pooling some spit in his palm. I almost sigh in relief as he grasps my cock again, my back arching to chase the movement of his hand.

“You like to fuck my hand, do you?” His voice is a low rumble on my shoulder, that vibrates down my back and tightens my balls.

---