The Dance Offwas a crapshoot. You never knew if your celeb that season was going to be up to the challenge or not. Dwayne Alonzo, her partner the previous season, was a football player with a huge fan following. As a dancer, however, he had more energy than skill, and his footwork left much to be desired. She’d choreographed routines that played to his strengths, both literal and figurative. Lots of lifts and hip action, with uncomplicated steps his big, blunt athlete’s feet could handle. They’d made it to the seventh episode before being eliminated.
Turning athletes and actors and anyone else who fell under the umbrella of “celebrity” into dancers was a challenge, for sure, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling creatively stifled.
Since she had access to this beautiful, empty,freerehearsal space, it would be a crime not to take advantage of it.
With the studio door shut and Dimitri dead asleep on the other end of the house, she turned on the camera and the music—a slow, haunting melody with soulful lyrics about a woman done wrong—and began to move. The music and motion, as always, swept everything else away.
When she danced, it was the closest she came to knowing peace.
6
The first thing Dimitri did when he woke up was check on Natasha. He knocked softly on the closed door. When he didn’t hear a reply, an intense surge of anticipation pushed him to grasp the knob and ease it open, despite feeling like the worst kind of host.
Anticipation deflated. In the light streaming in through the open curtains, it was clear the room was empty.
The bed was neatly made—something Nik had never done while living here—but empty. He took a deep breath and smiled. It was already starting to smell like her perfume, something sweet with a hint of ginger.
In the kitchen, he breathed in the aroma of freshly ground espresso beans and found a cup in the drying rack. Huh. She hadn’t made him any.
When he checked the garage, her car was still parked inside.
He walked back inside with a scowl on his face and his hands on his hips. Where the hell was she?
From the other side of the house, he caught the strains of music, and grinned. Just as he’d suspected, she hadn’t been able to withstand the lure of the studio. Once a fourth bedroom, it was his favorite room in the house, though he hardly used it these days.
He pushed open the studio door slowly and quietly. He’d have to thank Trina for keeping the hinges oiled. Not that Natasha would have heard over the music. She was fully absorbed, her eyes half-closed as she pirouetted across the floor in a pair of worn pointe shoes. Her long dark curls were tamed in a high bun, accentuating her high cheekbones and the elegant column of her neck.
As the music soared, so did she in a series ofgrande jetes.Her limbs cut through the air with grace and strength, and herarabesquewas a thing of beauty.
It had been a long time, but he remembered the moves, learned at his mother’s knee in her own ballet studio in Brooklyn. He’d learned to walk, then run, thenplié.Ballet had been first for him. The other styles had come later.
In between the classical ballet moves, Natasha incorporated some hip hop and steps from Latin dances, like salsa and tango. Their fusion was seamless, and executed with mastery and emotion.
He leaned against the doorjamb, overwhelmed by the sight of her. Natasha was always beautiful. Not just her body or her face, but the way she smiled, flirted, and sassed drove him wild. But when she danced? She awoke something in him he wasn’t ready to name. Something deep and encompassing, making him feel settled and terrified all at the same time. More than anything, though, it made him want to be with her. He couldn’t resist her when she danced.
The song came to an end and started again. Her chest rose as she took a deep breath and launched back into the routine.
When the song began a third time, Dimitri joined her.
He came up behind her on bare feet and took her in his arms. She jolted and her eyes flew open wide, but she didn’t say anything. It was just like the first time they’d danced, and every other time since. He let the music flow through him, communicating to him in a way he couldn’t explain and didn’t question. And he led her in a dance.
It wasn’t perfect. He hadn’t watched her long enough to learn the full choreography. But he followed her example, blending ballet with moves from other dance styles. Like always, it was magic.
The brush of their bodies, his hands on her skin, her weight in his arms. His body, still tired from a late night and waking earlier than he was used to, thrummed with the restless energy she brought out in him. Passion—for her, for the dance—lit in his veins.
Dancing with her made him long for something more. He wanted this woman, this way and in all ways. Cool and aloof as she was off the dance floor, when they came together like this, she couldn’t hide herself. The glimpses were enough to make him crave more—more of her body, sure, but also a peek behind her sexy smirk and bedroom eyes. He wanted to knowher,the secret Natasha she hid from the world, the Natasha who came out when she danced.
That Natasha touched his heart, bringing him to his knees in a way no one ever had, or, he feared, ever would again. If he had to use their incredible sexual chemistry to get past her walls, he would. And if he had to use dance to ignite the fire between them, he’d do that, too. Even as it threatened to consume him.
When the song ended and started over, they didn’t stop moving. This time, though, they danced closer. Touches lingered. His hands gripped tighter, and her body arched more sinuously. They abandoned the choreography in favor of twining around each other’s bodies to the beat of the music. The singer’s rich, smoky voice wrapped them in a spell of harmony and desire.
Dimitri brought Natasha in from a spin, holding her back against his chest. Her throat was right there, left exposed by the teeny tank top and her high-bun hairstyle. Not so far, really. She wasen pointe,and he was barefoot.
Heart pounding, he pressed his mouth to her skin and dragged kisses up her neck, savoring her open-mouthed gasp as he tasted and teased the sensitive spot below her ear.
Drunk on the biting ginger scent of her, he spun her in his arms until she was facing him. Her eyes flew to his, heavy-lidded and filled with hunger. His gaze latched on to her lips, parted and wet from where her tongue had run across them. As he lowered his head to hers, the awareness in her expression turned to anticipation. Triumph sang through him as her mouth trembled and pursed to meet his. With his body heavy and throbbing, urging him to go fast, he took it slow and touched the tip of his tongue to her lower lip.
“Privet!”
