Chapter 25 #2
“You need a place to rehearse, and this is close to campus. Now you don’t have to worry about being able to fit in time around classes, or your troupe’s part-time jobs. It’s a three-minute drive from your apartment, and it’s yours.”
“Mine?” I repeat.
“Well, the rental agreement is in my name, but you have it through the end of June.”
“You rented me a dance studio?” My voice cracks, and my eyes start to water.
“You were stressed. I wanted to make it easier for you,” he says gently.
Tears spill over and track down my cheeks.
Flip frowns and brushes them away. “Is it too much, Talls?”
“No. I mean, yes, but…” I shake my head and bite my lip to keep it from trembling. “No one has ever done anything this nice for me.” Flowers and stuffed animals and chocolate are one thing, but an entire dance studio? “This is really expensive.”
“I make a lot of money, and I still shop at the no-name grocery stores, so it’s well within my budget. More importantly, I want to take care of you.”
“Thank you.” I throw my arms around his neck. “This is just…thank you.” I’m already planning out a schedule. My troupe will have loads of time to practice together and on our own and some of the other groups that are struggling could use this space, too.
“You’re welcome.” He winds his arms around my waist, and hugs me tightly. “Get used to being spoiled because I plan to do it a lot.”
“Charles and Arya will be so relieved.” I lean back, fingers slipping through the curls at the nape of his neck. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you for this.”
“I have an idea.” His eyebrow quirks, along with the corner of his mouth.
I mirror his expression. “It’s probably not the same as mine.”
He laughs and kisses the end of my nose. “Dance for me.”
“Definitely not the same idea as mine,” I joke.
“Just for me.” He fingers an errant curl, his smile making my stomach twist in the most delicious way.
“Just you,” I breathe.
His eyes darken. “Mm. Yes, please.”
“Only if there’s a cherry on top.” I do the wave with my eyebrows.
His grin turns devilish. “You’re a problem, you know that?”
“But I’m a cute problem.” I love that I don’t have to guard myself with him. I can make jokes, and we can flirt and have fun, and I don’t have to worry about his motives.
I spin out of his arms, already filtering through potential songs and routines. I know just the one; it’s basically mine and Mac’s theme song.
I turn on the rest of the lights, looking over the entire space for the first time. The floors are beautiful, bleached wood, the walls mirrored, and there’s even a warm-up barre that spans two walls.
Flip turns on the sound system while I shed my coat and sweater and dig my dance shoes out of my bag. I pull my hair up into a high ponytail, then grab a folding chair from the corner and set it in the middle of the room.
Flip holds up his phone. “What’s the chair for, kitten?”
“So I can entertain you.” I pat the seat.
He snaps a photo and tucks it back in his pocket, regarding me with curiosity as he drops into the chair. I hand him the remote. “I’ll tell you when.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
I move into position on the opposite side of the room and call over my shoulder, “You can hit play.”
The music starts, and Flip shakes his head as the song fills the room.
“Really, Talls?”
“It’s iconic.”
“You’re not wrong.”
There’s nothing quite like classic Madonna.
It’s been a while since I’ve performed this routine, but my muscles remember the moves.
I spin and twirl and leap, falling into the music.
I grip Flip’s shoulder instead of the back of the chair, moving around him.
His eyes find mine in the mirror, hot and steady as I spin.
Like he’s my sun. The center of my universe.
The nerves hit me again as I stop in front of him, bracing my hands on his knees.
Our gazes lock, our faces inches apart as I kick my leg back and arch until my toe touches my crown.
I push away and move into a spin, then drop into his lap for a moment before I roll my body back up.
His fingers coast along my hip before I twirl out of reach again.
The push and pull between us is addictive.
I’m full of longing and desire, and it’s echoed back at me in him.
I spin around him one last time as the final lines play out, and I drop back into his lap, stretching my arm across his shoulder, eyes on his as I arc backwards. His hand settles against the small of my back, the other high on my thigh.
We’re both breathless as I meet his fiery gaze. “Hi.”
“Hi.” His voice is all gravel.
“How was that?”
“Fucking incredible.” He squeezes my thigh. “I’ll be your private audience anytime.”
“I’ll dance for you whenever you want.” I hop out of his lap, in love with the tension flaring between us. “It’s your turn.”
He runs his hands over his thighs. “For what?”
“To dance for me.”
He taps his chest. “Hockey player.” Then points to me. “Dancer.”
“I’ve seen you on the dance floor on club nights. You’ve got moves.” He lets me tug him out of the chair and take his place. I cross my legs, pointing to the sound system. “Entertain me.”
He leans in to kiss the end of my nose. “Careful what you wish for.”
I giggle as he moonwalks to the stereo and cues up a song. He pulls his hoodie and T-shirt over his head, revealing his gloriously cut chest and abs. His six-pack has a six-pack.
I bite my bottom lip, jittery with excitement as he gets into position.
“Ready to be entertained?” he calls over his shoulder.
“So ready.” I hit play and nearly die when the first strains of his rebuttal song blast through the speakers. It’s been a popular club song since the nineties.
Flip does not pull out the anticipated dance-club moves. Instead, he performs a legit striptease, minus the stripping. And while I used him and the chair as props, that has nothing on the way Flip uses it and me.
His muscles ripple and flex as he undulates on the floor at my feet.
It’s pretty damn obscene, and I can easily envision myself naked under him as he rolls his hips.
My mouth waters and then goes dry as he runs his hands up the back of my calves, moving around to push my knees wide.
His hot gaze stays fixed on mine, tongue dragging across his lips as his palms slide up the inside of my thighs.
He rises, nose skimming the front of my shirt, lips brushing along my throat, hovering just above mine as he growls the refrain.
Time suspends. My body feels like it’s on fire, there’s a pulse between my thighs, and he’s not even touching me.
What will it be like when he breaks? I’ll be feral for him. I already am.
He spins around, back to my front as he glides down, head resting in my lap for a moment. He grins up at me, and then he’s on the move again. He shakes his booty and tosses a saucy wink over his shoulder that makes me laugh.
He pirouettes around me, bending to tuck his fingers behind my knees and press my legs together. Flip straddles my thighs and holds on to the back of the chair, undulating suggestively as the song ends. He kisses the end of my nose and hops off my lap. “How was that?”
“So much thrusting and so many hip rolls!” I say breathlessly, like it was me doing the work, not him.
He smirks. “Haven’t you seen hockey warm-ups?”
I have an unreasonable number of video files of Flip humping the ice. Which I’ve often used as fantasy fodder. “That was a lot more than hockey warm-up inner-thigh stretches.”
“Denise, the women’s coach, suggested I take some classes for flow and floor work, but I could only go once because I accidentally fucked the instructor,” Flip explains.
I give him a look. “How do you accidentally fuck the instructor, Flip?”
“Well, you know…” He runs a hand through his hair. “You’re twenty-five, and you’re horny, and I don’t actually need to tell you more about this.”
“I’ve been horny plenty, and I’ve never fucked one of my instructors,” I argue.
“I’m glad I don’t have to knock anyone’s teeth out.” He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against him.
A hot thrill shoots down my spine at his dark tone. I loop my arms around his neck, loving that I’m pressed up against his warm, bare skin. “Why is it okay for you to fuck your instructor, but the idea of me fucking one of mine warrants physical violence?”
He gazes down at me, eyes glittering. “I didn’t say it was okay that I fucked my instructor, just that it happened. And I couldn’t go back to the studio after that.” His nostrils flare. “Let’s talk about anything other than fucking.”
I press myself against him. “You’re the one who brought up fucking, not me.”
“Stop using the word fucking.”
“But I like the word fucking.”
“Kitten.” There’s warning in his tone and his molten gaze.
I’m sure my smile is absolutely devilish. I make a fuh sound.
He narrows his eyes. “What do you think happens to bad little kittens?”
“Naughty things, I hope.”
He exhales roughly, jaw flexing along with the fingers gripping my side.
I’m pushing all his buttons. I want him, I want this, but I don’t want him to break for the wrong reasons, so I kiss his chin and step back. “Should we check out that coffee shop?”
“We should.”
I start to move away but his fingers lap my wrist. I turn back to him, and he gently cups my chin in his palm, gazing down at me with heated longing. “Thank you for dancing for me.”
“Thank you for renting me a studio.”
He slants his mouth over mine, tongue brushing mine. It’s sweet and languid and it makes my knees weak, but it’s over too soon. He pulls back, then kisses the side of my neck. “I need to get you out of here now.”
“I know.” My heart is hammering. My vagina is permanently clenched, and I will definitely need some relief when I get home, but it’s so, so worth it to have him look at me like he wants to devour me.
He helps me into my coat, and I watch as he pulls his shirt and hoodie back over his head. We end up driving to another café because the one in the strip mall is full of students, a couple of whom are wearing Terror shirts.
It isn’t until we’re seated at the too-small table, one of his knees between mine because there’s no space for his long legs, and he’s playing with my fingers that he says, “I’m sorry.”
I look up at him. “For what?”
“For winding you up and leaving you hanging.” His eyes are full of apology.
“I like that we can push each other’s buttons, though,” I say softly.
“You excel at pushing mine.”
I roll my bottom lip between my teeth. “I’m wildly attracted to you, and sometimes the yearning is.
..overwhelming, and I just…forget myself.
” I gather my thoughts for a moment. It’s empowering to have someone like Flip regard me this way: with desire, with reverence.
“I also like that you want to treat me with caution and respect.”
“You are everything I have ever wanted, Tally.” He kisses the back of my hand. “I didn’t rent the studio so you’d have somewhere to dance for me, I wanted you to have a space that’s yours.”
It’s the first time I’ve been with someone who wants to do things for me, not just to me. “It’s the most amazing gift anyone has ever given me.”
The door of the café opens, bringing with it a gust of cold air. I shiver and rummage through my oversized purse. “Crap. I must have left my sweater at the studio.”
“Here.” Flip stands and pulls his hoodie over his head. “Wear this.”
He helps me into it. It’s nearly dress length on me, the shoulder seams almost at my elbows, but Flip’s satisfied smile makes my heart leap. Especially when he frees my hair and leans in to kiss the side of my neck. “This is yours now.”
“It’s your favorite, though.” It’s a constant in his winter-wardrobe rotation.
“I love it on you more than I like it on me.”