Page 56 of Dancing in the Dark

It takes a lot of bravery for a little girl to sleep somewhere else for the first time. She was nervous, even if she’d tell you otherwise. Don’t be the reason she hesitates next time she wants to be brave.

Clearly, you’re spiraling. Want me to tell Aubree to call you? She’s good at talking a man off the ledge. I suppose I could tell Minka to call you, but I don’t think she’d be very helpful.

Oh, I know! Call Felix. He won’t help you, but he might call you a pussy bitch and reaffirm what I already said.

My phone dings again and again and again, and then another picture pops through, similar to the last, but this time, Cato pinches the bottom of her mask between his fingers and pulls it up to show me her eyes are closed. Her long lashes kiss her plump cheeks.

Cato:

Asleep and at peace, like I said. Take a breath and harden the fuck up. You’re embarrassing yourself.

A knock at my apartment door brings my head around with a snap. The soft tap of knuckles bounces in time with my racing pulse.

Locking my phone and dropping it onto the cushions beside my thigh, I push off the couch and cross my living room on fast feet. My door doesn’t have a peephole, so my mind works through a thousand maybes.

Could be the guy from 2B; he texted earlier because his tap water has a slight brown tinge. Could be Aubree; she’s got brain voodoo, and I’m in a spiral. Hell, it could be Cato; his texts nothing more than decoys while he sped across the city and brought my baby back to me.

Swinging the door wide with an air of frustration—there’s no way it’s Cato, and hoping so has made me feel dumb—I meet Sera’s stunning eyes and stumble back a step.

So. Fucking. Beautiful.

I study her floor-length, dark brown, almost black gown and gulp at the luxurious fabric wrapped around her lithe frame. It comes with some kind of crisscross ribbon design stretching from the top of her bust to her deliciously curved hips. The front panel, a section between her breasts, transitions to a see-through V, and as I tilt a fraction to the right, I groan at the continued crisscross design at her back, the missing sections of fabric, so ink and a pair of dimples mere inches above the swell of her ass become a feast for a man’s eyes.

“Fuck.” I press my hand to my heart and feel it swell at the sight of a heavy leather overnight bag clutched by her side.

“You’re gonna make me stand outside while you stare, huh?”

My lips curl up on one side. For another minute. Yup! “What are you doing here?”

“Heard you were alone.” She draws delicate shoulders up and nibbles nervously on her lower lip. “I could leave, though. I guess. If you’d rather⁠—”

“Nope.” I yank her across the threshold and pull her out of the way of my door so I can shut it again. “I definitely want you here.” I take her bag and set it on the floor, then I nudge her backward and press her against the wall. “You said you were staying in the penthouse suite.” I lick my lips and study the tantalizing cinch of her waist. The fast up-down rush of her chest. “Do you know how good it actually feels to look at you right now?” I pepper a gentle kiss to the corner of her glossed lips. Another to her cheekbone. More along the long, strong line of her jaw.

“I changed my mind.” She tilts her head back, dark lashes coming up to tickle her skin. “I didn’t wanna stay there anymore.”

“So you came here?” I would glance around my apartment to emphasize exactly how much of a step-down her decision was, but hell, I already know what this place looks like, and I have no desire to take my eyes off her. “You’d trade the penthouse for this?”

“Mmm.” She drapes her arms over my shoulders and runs perfectly manicured nails through the hair at the back of my head. She can’t possibly know how I melt when she does that. How I absolutely fucking crumble. But she does it anyway, a smug grin teasing her lips. “I’d trade it for time with you. A thousand times over.”

“Feels like I’m dreaming.” But if I am, I don’t intend to ruin a good thing by waking up. Instead, I slide my hands over her hips. Over her succulent thighs. I bunch the long fabric of her dress and reveal skyscraper high heels. Strong ankles. Dancer’s legs. I bring it up until I feel her silky flesh beneath my palms, and since it’s possible this may be nothing more than a dream, I take advantage of my temporary good fortune and sample the plump swell of her bottom lip. “I hate being this needy dude who can’t even get through a night without seeing you.” I groan and nibble. Hum and taste. “I feel bad that you’d give up a fancy hotel suite to come here. But I am needy.” I scoop her up and swallow her squeak of delight, holding her high and folding my neck back to luxuriate in the tickle of strategically loose locks excluded from the updo she bundled the rest of her hair into.

Turning, I lose myself in the kiss she gifts me with, and the palms—her palms—pressed to the sides of my face.

Because she wants to control me, too.

I bypass my living room and leave the television playing. It’ll time out on its own. I slap the light switches off and step into the hall, then I carry her to my room, no more evolved than a common caveman.

“Fuck, Sera.” I lay her out on the end of my bed and crawl over her supple body, dipping my tongue between her lips and groaning as she wraps her arms over my shoulders. “Feels like a bad deal on your part. Like you traded a night at the palace for a tryst with the local pauper boy.”

“It’s so odd that you mention a palace when I never, ever said I wanted one of those.” Grinning, she presses her hand against my chest and pushes me back. Over. Following me, she trails her fingertips along my abdomen and down to dip into the waistband of my sweatpants. “I don’t want your money. I just want your undivided attention sometimes. And maybe an invitation to spend the night, since you mentioned you’d be here all alone, anyway.”

“Mm. Mi casa.” And whatever the rest of the saying is. “You smell absolutely fucking edible, by the way.” I splay my palm over the swell of her ass and finger the pathetic scrap of lace some entrepreneurial fucker slapped an expensive price tag on and convinced women they needed to pay more for less. “This is way better than sending a picture, by the way. At least now,” I set her on my hips and growl at the fiery inferno of her pussy settled over my cock, “I get to unwrap my gift one layer at a time.”

21

SERAPHINA

There’s something to be said for sleeping in a man’s bed, my arms and legs sprawled wide, my belly pressed to the mattress, and a delicious ache pulsing in every limb I possess.