Page 38 of The Dancer and the Grumpy Billionaire

CHAPTER 16

Vasily

Seeing Gigi in that dress and those heels was enough to drive me crazy. I try to be a thoughtful, rational, respectful person because that is what my parents taught me, but Galina Gusev makes me feel anything other. In fact, she makes me want to do a great number of things that are neither rational nor respectful.

When I receive her texts, time freezes. I type about thirty responses, thirty reasons to say no, to deny my feelings. But when it comes down to it, I miss her, too. I miss the somewhat innocent way she continues to look at the world. I miss her curiosity. I miss her beauty and her body. Like a levee breaking, I find myself assaulted by the truth. I thought I could walk away and let her go, but I cannot. Galina Gusev, for better or worse, ismine.

I ask her to text me the address of the club. I look it up and realize it is a Russian-owned establishment. My stomach sinks, but then I remember the shame I felt after being taken down without much of a fight by Gigi’s bodyguards. I will not be a coward.

Pulling on a t-shirt, jeans, and boots, I head toward the door, opting to grab my favorite, worn Capitals hat. I pull it low over my eyes and head to my car.

Twenty minutes later, I pull into the parking lot and text Gigi, who is already waiting at the door. She pulls me inside and the bouncer barely gives me a sideways glance. I see Alexei at the bar, halfway to drunk and flirting with some blonde-haired woman.

“I have never seen you so casual, apart from your workout clothing,” she says, looking me up and down before reaching out to flick the bill of my hat. “You look like a college student. It is very sexy.”

“Are you drunk?” I ask. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

“Oh, not much,” she says, grinning.

“But not none,” I say, eyebrow raised.

Gigi giggles and pinches her fingers together, a tiny sliver of space between them. “Only a little.”

I cannot help grinning. She seems freer than I have ever seen her.

“I learned to dance not like ballet tonight!” she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the crowded dance floor. We wind out into the crowd, and I glance over my shoulder to assure that Alexei isn’t watching us. He isn’t.

I have to admit, I am not much of a dancer. It’s not that I can’t dance, only that crowded bars have never been my thing. Still, as Gigi pulls me far into a gyrating crowd, she is all I can see. She is the best thing I have seen in weeks.

We move to the beat, my hands on her hips, pulling her close. We could be alone, for all I know, and my cock grows hard at her proximity. She turns around, her back to my front as she slinks her body up and down. My hands move to encircle her, one on her breast, one between her legs.

There are so many people here, all in various states of lust and inebriation. It only causes me pause for a split second, this desire I have to move my hand up under her dress, to push my fingers past her panties, to touch her soft, wet pussy as we sway together to the pulsating beat.

She leans back against me as I touch her, my lips grazing her long, elegant neck.

I am hard as a rock now, and ready to bend her over and fuck her right here on this dance floor, in this crowd. And Gigi seems lost in a haze of desire as she writhes against me, seemingly unaware of how publicly she is being exposed.

Anxiety spikes suddenly, at this realization. I pull my hand away and smooth her dress down, spinning her around to look at me. There is a question in my eyes and she reads it perfectly, taking my hand and pulling me once more, through to the other side of the dance area, back toward a long, dark hallway. In semi privacy, she is on me in a second, her legs around my waist as I push her against the wall. I grind against her, my stiff cock rubbing at her most sensitive places through my jeans. Her mouth is hot against mine, a hot-sweet liquor taste on her tongue.

“Oh, Vasily,” she murmurs against my mouth. “Oh, I want you. I have missed you.”

“I can’t stay away from you,” I answer, my mouth moving to her neck.

The strap of her bra falls down one perfect, creamy shoulder and I follow it with my mouth, only too happy to find her small breast slightly exposed. I lick and suck at her hard nipple and she gasps.

“I want you inside me,” she breathes.

“People will see,” I say against her skin.

“I do not care.”

I kind of do not care, either; but then I do, fear of becoming a viral video making me think before I act. I stop, again, before we make a show of ourselves. Pragmatism wins, for me, every time.

Gigi looks bereft. “You do not want me?”

I push her strap back into place, covering her, resting my forehead against hers as I get myself under control.

“I want you very much,” I say. “But in private. I am no exhibitionist, even if my cock says otherwise.”

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