Page 33 of Twilight Echoes
When he retired, it was easy. He’d rather be doing almost anything other than performing in front of an audience, where she still enjoyed it. It wasn’t just about the movement onstage, but the connection to the audience. He understood that in a different way and he wanted to show her she could still have it, while sitting in the audience and feeling their energy as her creation filled their souls.
Giving her a moment, he opened one of the boxes and pulled out a framed picture.
The one of them dancing.
In full color.
He tapped his finger against his chest. “I want to dance with you again,” he whispered, emotion choking his throat. He didn’t want to be onstage or have anyone watching. He just wanted to glide across the wood floor in an effortless motion of love. “I want to choreograph with you. We could do a year together at the ballet and then create our own company together. Open a studio together. If I live that long.”
“Stop making those kinds of comments.” She slapped his shoulder. “You think that’s what I should do? Hang up my pointe shoes and teach?” She gave him a scathing look as if he’d just cut the bottom of her legs off.
She’d totally missed his desire, but that too he understood.
He arched a brow. “Being a choreographer is a very different job than a teacher, not that there is anything wrong with the latter, but it takes vision and a deeper understanding of the art to do the former. Any one of those girls who never made the company could have easily become teachers, but, like being the one principal dancer, very few could make it as a choreographer.”
She let out a puff of air, slumping her shoulders. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know,” he said, setting the picture of them aside, twisting his body so he faced her directly. “I’m not saying you should quit right now. Finish the season, but then think about working with me, if we’re still kicking?—”
“I’ll think about it if you stop talking like that.”
With his hands on her thighs, he stared into her ocean pools of blue and green. Her eyes were an invitation to her spirit and he planned on jumping in. “Okay, but I need to say one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m a selfish bastard, and I want you, even if it’s only for a short period of time. I want to know what it’s like to be with you in every way. That might be wrong and we probably shouldn’t, but that’s how I feel.”
The corners of her mouth drifted up into a heart-melting smile. “I’d say if we didn’t take advantage of the time we do have, we’d be waving our middle finger at fate, and you know, karma, it’s a bitch.”
“We don’t want to upset karma,” he mused, melding his mouth against hers, drawing her tongue in, swirling and tasting her sweetness. His biceps tensed under her tender touch. He tried to bite back a groan as he lifted her into his arms. The ache in his joints had eased, but he knew that was temporary.
“Put me down,” she whispered into his neck, plastering him with soft kisses. They danced over his skin, spreading a blanket of future promises across his body.
“I will, on the bed,” he said, carrying her across the room, ignoring the little tickle in his brain that reminded him their time could end in a few short months. Or weeks. Maybe days.
Gently, he laid her on the plush light-green comforter. He drizzled kisses on her cheeks and nibbled on her earlobes. Her thin body hid her strong, lean muscles created from years of training. A ballerina’s body was deceiving, not that he’d ever seen one naked. He’d shied away from anyone who reminded him of Avery, which left him sexless in the last three years.
Not that he minded. His dreams were filled with visions of Avery. He’d completely given his heart at his last performance when he’d seen her in the lobby.
He untucked her shirt from her formfitting jeans, her stomach quivering under his fingertips. As he raised it higher, she lifted up on her elbows, then pushed to a seated position, tugging the thin fabric over her head, revealing a lacy white bra. Her tiny mounds peeked out over the fabric.
His throat tightened as his breath came out in a short pant. His pulse raced. He’d been with beautiful women, but never one he loved.
Could he say the words now?
No. It was too soon, even for him. While he felt it deep in his core, they needed time, which they potentially had little of, but still, it was better to wait.
He unhooked the front clasp of her tiny scrap of fabric and tossed it aside while he stared at her with pure admiration and love. Her hair curled over her shoulders, just above her tight nipple.
Everything in the background faded to a blur. Nothing existed but her and this moment. He could only hope he’d be the kind of man she needed.
Wanted.
Desired.
He traced a path from her navel to her areola, which puckered as she sucked in a breath and bit her lower lip. Her chest heaved out into the palm of his hand. Her soft skin felt like warm oil gliding over his body. Bending over, he sucked her nipple into his mouth. It felt like he’d been given a little piece of heaven.
Her fingers dug into his scalp as he let out a wild moan, which only reminded him that his pants had become a bit crowded.
