“More, Jase, please...” As she whispers my name, her voice soft and trembling, I lose control. I push deeper inside her while using my tongue, and the taste of her is certainly going to be the end of me.
Her orgasm builds up like a wave. I can feel it, before it breaks in a series of powerful contractions. Her muscles pulse; everything throbs. She arches her back, her hips slide even farther forward, and she stifles a scream by biting her lip. Fuck, she really is killing me.I want to hear her, every single sound that she makes, unrestrained and uncontrolled. I want everything from her, and I want to give her everything she wants from me.
* * *
I slept in Zoe’s room that night too, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And every other night this week. I should probably be worried about how easy everything suddenly is. How normal it seems.
And how safe I feel.
But I’m not worried. I’m also not worried about the fact that it can’t be this simple. Not after all the shit we’ve already been through.
But I should have guessed it was too good to last.
The universe takes revenge for my carelessness on Friday, during the pas de deux class.
“Today we’ll be working on our lifts. The last few times, I wasn’t convinced of what I saw,” Francesca says, giving the pianist a sign and sending us to our positions.
I wait for Zoe to give me her hand before I take her by the waist. My body reacts to her closeness with an unmistakable tingle as I start to think about how she moved under my hands in the theater. Her moan in my ear, her taste in my mouth.
“You’re thinking dirty,” Zoe whispers so quietly that no one can hear but me. In the mirror, I see a wide grin on her face.
I lean forward a little until my cheek is touching hers. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking about?”
Her lips open, and I want to kiss her, right now, but we don’thave a chance to continue our conversation, or kiss. Francesca stops in front of us and raises her eyebrows disapprovingly.
“Concentrate,” she orders.
Zoe and I nod at the same moment, but she’s smiling.
“Later,” I whisper to her as soon as Francesca has moved on to the next couple.
We do one lift after another, and it’s so easy to dance with Zoe now. We react to each other; we understand each other intuitively.
Until I turn around. Zoe is sitting on my shoulder. I see a tall, familiar figure watching us from the hallway. I lose my balance, and Zoe lets out a startled cry as she slips off my shoulder. Somehow, I manage to catch her. It’s pure instinct; I can’t let her fall.
Francesca shouts something, but her words don’t reach me. All I can hear is the sound of blood pounding in my ears. My heart is racing, and my whole body tenses. I look into Zoe’s surprised eyes, yet all my attention is focused on the man watching me, his face expressionless.
Dad.
What the hell is he doing here?
“Jase, are you okay?” Zoe frees herself from my grip and gives me a worried look, even though I’m supposed to be the one asking. After all, I almost let her fall.
“Yes,” I lie. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
She shakes her head and smiles at me reassuringly. “It’s okay, I was just shocked.”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“It’s okay,” she says again, nodding toward the glass wall. She’s already noticed him. Of course she has. Her smile fades and her brow creases, as though she’s wondering the same thing I am.
Francesca comes over to us to make sure neither of us is hurt and then has us start from the beginning. But I can’t concentrate anymore, no matter how hard I try.
I can’t ignore my father. He’s here, watching me, judging me, evaluating me. He probably feels justified now that I don’t belong here. And I’m not even in a position to prove him wrong.
When Francesca finally ends the lesson, I’m both relieved the torment is over for now and dreading what comes next. Dad is waiting for me, and I don’t believe for one second that I can just ignore him.
I purposely take my time packing my things and putting on my sweatshirt, but I can’t delay the inevitable much longer.
