Chapter 19
Aleksandr
Yes, Finally
My newest hobby was off to dance class today. It was Wednesday—only three more days before date night. I needed to discuss the dress situation with her.
The note she left infuriated me. In no way did I think she was a whore or that she could be bought. I honestly wanted to do something nice for her. The dress and lingerie set was extremely tasteful and exquisite like she was.
I stood outside her line of sight inside the dance studio. I had a few hours to spare, so I sent Marcus to get lunch and took over watching her. Her tight dance leggings showed the curve of her ass perfectly. Her T-shirt was rolled up and tucked under her sports bra, baring her navel and waist. She was wearing heels, and my hands ached to touch her.
Lost in my thoughts, I almost didn’t hear Mr. Dulaine call out, “Partners, sensual bachata.”
What the fuck? It’s a partner class today? Thank god for the fool’s open-door policy.
A foreign sensation washed over me. My chest tightened, and my composure slipped. The thought of her dancing with any other man in class angered me.
Like hell, she would.
I pushed through the crowd. She was talking to Sarah, who still had her ankle wrapped from falling at the club. Kinsley was completely unaware of my presence. I put my finger to my lips to tell Sarah not to say anything. Some random dancer who couldn’t keep his eyes off my kitten’s ass touched her arm to get her attention. She turned, and that was when she saw me.
“I’d think twice before you look at her ass again.”
I glared at the prick.
Her face flushed red, but the boy stepped back.
Damn straight. I glared at him until he backed up far enough away from her.
“What are you doing here?”
she whisper-shrieked.
“Dancing,”
I answered, moving toward her.
“Not with me, you’re not.”
She gracefully twirled away and grabbed the hand of the lanky boy with roaming eyes and led him out on the dance floor.
He wasn’t much older than her and looked at her with the biggest puppy-dog eyes. Before the instructor got the music started, I marched over to them.
“I suggest you find someone else to dance with. This is my girl.”
The boy’s face blanched at my words.
“I didn’t say I wanted to partner with you, Aleksandr. And I’m not your girl.”
She glared at me.
“Let’s see about that, shall we?”
I grabbed her and spun her around.
Music filled the room, and I pulled her into my arms, flush against my front. God, she fit perfectly. Her reaction to being so close was comical. She was indignation on fire, her eyes speaking louder than any words could.
I hooked her hands around my neck and thrust my thigh between her mouthwatering legs. Pushing every inch of myself into her. The thin material of her leggings didn’t provide much of a barrier. I swayed ever so slightly as the chorus of “Se?orita” played.
My thumb and forefinger pressed to her side and back, guiding her in a slow, torturous rocking motion as I ground my hips into hers. I had to adjust my pants, pulling my jeans up my thigh with my hand. Jolts of electricity ran through me when her eyes widened. I was rock hard, and there was no way she couldn’t feel it.
As I grabbed Kinsley’s hand, my touch firm yet gentle, I guided her into frame position. I’d most definitely have to give my mother a hug and thank her for the years of dance she forced me and my brothers to attend.
With a subtle push, I positioned her body in alignment with mine, leaving just enough space between us to allow for graceful movement. The spark between our hands was electric, and my fingers intertwined with hers with a sense of purpose.
As her left hand rested on my right upper arm, I could feel the subtle warmth of her touch seeping through the fabric of my T-shirt. My body towered over hers, yet she inclined hers toward mine. The other dancers faded as we were once more drawn together by an invisible force.
Our gazes locked, and I sucked in a breath and knew with everything in me that something beautiful and intimate was about to take place on this dance floor. She and I were about to tell a goddam story.
We swayed in perfect synchrony, our hips moving to match the sensual music. Fuck, she was graceful. I guided her into a subtle turn, our bodies seamlessly rotating as if carried by the melody.
Our eyes met once more, this time speaking a language only the two of us could understand. Our connection grew stronger with each step, the movements growing more and more intimate. It was as if we were making love on the dance floor.
I wrapped my arms around her waist, drawing her closer. Our bodies merged, moving as one. Every touch, every connection, was electrifying. The chorus hit, and that intoxicating surge of energy coursed through me.
In one swift move, I trapped her once more, drawing her tight little body closer to mine. My fingertips danced along her back, and my resulting reward was her exquisite shiver. With my forehead pressed against hers, sweet surrender filled her eyes.
Regardless of what was going on inside her mind, she was committed to this dance, and she countered my every move with a sensuality that left me wanting more of her. And then, with the barest of flicks, I expertly positioned her into frame position once again, spinning her. The song was ending, much to my disappointment. I could dance with her all day.
But as the final notes faded and we came to a graceful stop pressed against each other in the final move, she jerked away. Her anger flared as her nostrils did, causing me to grin. Her eyes blazed with fury, churning like a raging storm.
“Told you I was good,”
I taunted her.
“I’ve had better,”
she replied coolly, but her heart was racing, and her eyes betrayed her arousal.
“Pavel Lenkov?”
“Fuck you,”
she hissed.
Interesting. So Mr. Lenkov’s a sensitive subject. Her reaction was telling. She absolutely knew him, the little liar.
“Let’s go. We need to talk.”
I grabbed her arm, dragging her off the dance floor.
The crowd of dancers parted, making a path for us. A hushed silence had enveloped the room in the wake of our captivating performance. It seemed as though everyone could sense the longing that hung in the air between us. I was tempted to put her on the spot with a kiss to confirm that she’d been affected by the dance, too, but refrained.
“Tell Sarah bye.”
I winked at her friend, who looked like she didn’t know what to do.
“You’re hurting me,”
she whispered.
I loosened my hold, not realizing I was gripping her so hard. Damn it, that was not my intent. I didn’t know what came over me. We reached the edge of the dance floor, and she yanked free before punching my arm.
“If you weren’t so tall, I’d aim for your face, Reaper,”
she yelled, rubbing her arm. The clear imprint of my fingers marred her skin. A collective gasp sounded, followed by instant silence behind us.
I dragged her out of the studio, away from prying eyes, and over to the dressing rooms. “I could get you a step stool. You could carry it around with you everywhere you go to make it easier for you.”
She packed a good punch, and if my arm was any indication, her knuckles would be sore later.
“Fuck you, Aleksandr King,”
she said once more, pushing against me.
“That’s the second time you’ve said that to me today. Do you want it right here? I can accommodate that,”
I snarled, the tension between us building. Damn, she seemed determined to push every button I had.
“Nikogda.” Never.
“Tell me how you really feel, kitten, because your mouth says one thing, but your eyes tell a different story. I wonder, if I were to put my hand down your little pants, would I find you wet? Something tells me I would.”
Before she could reply, my hands found her ponytail, pulling her face toward mine. My mouth descended on hers, hot and angry. My kiss was anything but soft—it was brutal. Demanding entrance, I pushed my tongue between her lips, and she kissed me back with equal intensity. I ravaged her mouth, leaving her lips swollen.
Her response was exactly what I was expecting and hoping for. She was invested in this kiss. She growled, pulling my hair and kissing me deeply. I moved my hands from her hair down to her ass. Moaning into her mouth, I ground my hips into her.
“Enough, please,”
she whimpered against my lips.
“Damn, kitten,”
I murmured against her neck as she leaned her head against me. I kissed her cheek and went to kiss her softly this time.
She whispered, “No more, please.”
I took a small step back. “Get your things. I’m taking you home.”
Her body sagged against mine, and she nodded.
“I left my water bottle in the dance studio,”
she murmured into my chest. Her eyes met mine, and she waited for me to nod in acknowledgment. A truce of sorts had been called.
As I walked her into the room, Mr. Dulaine gave me a dirty look. Perhaps I should have left things there, but I couldn’t help myself.
Turning to him, I boomed, “Mr. Dulaine, Kinsley is a solo dancer. Forget it, and you won’t physically be able to teach dance again.”
His face paled, and he dipped his chin to me. Good. Message received.
“Damn you. You can’t do this,”
she said, tears in her eyes. She grabbed her water bottle and stormed off toward the locker room.
I waited for her outside the door. When she emerged, she lifted her chin and breezed right past me. I followed her as she stepped out into the afternoon sun. Marcus opened the car door, but she stormed off in the opposite direction.
“Get in the damn car, Kinsley.”
“And if I refuse?”
She glared with her arms crossed. Damn her and her defiance.
“I just want to drive you home and talk to you.”
I raked my hands through my hair in frustration.
“I’d rather walk. Please don’t make me.”
Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears.
“Are you afraid to ride in a car?”
I asked, grabbing her arm, perplexed by her behavior. It was a car ride.
“No, just afraid of being thrown in one against my wishes.”
“Who said anything about throwing you in? Please, I’m asking you to get into the car.”
I let her arm go, grabbing hold of one of her hands. I began rubbing small circles on her palms, soothing her.
Her breathing changed, and she calmed down instantly. Good girl.
“Promise?”
she whispered.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. What was all that about?
I held my tongue as I gently guided her over to the car, a flicker of unease taking over. The weight of the unspoken and overreaction lingered between us, leaving me dumbfounded and unsettled.
The gnawing in the pit of my stomach told me something about cars and being thrown in one against her will wasn’t an irrational phobia. It must have stemmed from something in her past. The car accident? I was startled when I heard Marcus speak.
“Ms. Taylor.”
He smiled at her.
“Please don’t lock the door, Marcus,” she said.
He nodded as if it was a perfectly normal request. She climbed into the car and scooted all the way to the side, hugging the door. Her eyes fixed on the lock.
“Kinsley,”
I called out. “The car will automatically lock once Marcus puts it in drive, but you’ll be able to unlock it, I promise.”
An odd sort of weariness colored her eyes, but she finally nodded. The short drive to her house was spent in silence, and the minute he put the car into park, she jumped out.
“Stop, kotyonok, please. We need to talk.”
I hurried to catch up to her. Once I reached her, I dug out the card and handed it back to her. She stared at me blankly.
“I never said you were a whore.”
I pushed her hair back away from her face.
“No, you said you would make me your bitch,”
she whispered, looking around.
Before I could say anything, she continued. “You bought me lingerie. Why would you do that if you didn’t expect that I was…that I would sleep with you?”
She finally turned her eyes toward me, and her conflicting emotions mirrored mine.
“I bought you something I thought you’d look sexy as hell in. Now, whether you let me see you in it or not wasn’t the point.”
“So you don’t intend to fuck me? Is that what you’re saying now? Make up your mind. You’re confusing as hell.”
“I’m confusing as hell? That’s rich, kotyonok.”
I wanted to pull her into my arms and wipe away the look of sadness on her face, then bend her over and smack her ass red for making me so conflicted. The strange hold she had on me could only be chalked up to the chase. She was making me work for this every step of the way.
“If I agree to go to dinner with you, will you leave me alone after?”
Her innocent eyes flicked to mine, and I couldn’t help but smile.
Yes, finally.
“Yes, it’s all I ask, and no expectations other than dinner and, maybe, another dance.”
Yeah, right, my dick said as it throbbed with need for her. She needed slow, and for some crazy, unknown reason, I would play along. I’d have to tell her it was an actual full-weekend date, but in my elation, I didn’t want to take a chance she’d back out.
The kick-off event was a dinner on Friday that was being held for several charities my brothers and I were partial to. The chief was a founding member of one, and it benefited women and children caught in domestic violence situations.
Saturday was a tour of several of the Willamette Valley Wineries. It ended with a day trip that included visiting Tamanawas Falls at Mount Hood National Forest on Sunday.
I’d tell her the night of the date. If she decided she didn’t want to attend, I’d bring her home. The plan was to behave and get her to see how charming I could be. If I played my cards right, maybe, just maybe, she’d end up in my bed. And if my cock was buried in her pussy, all the better.
“Fine, but I wear my own clothes.”
She crossed her arms, and her usual spirit flooded back into her eyes.
“Sorry, kitten, but on this one, I’m going to insist that you wear the dress I bought you.”
I snapped my fingers at Marcus, who was casually watching the exchange between us.
“Ms. Taylor’s packages, please.”
Marcus shoved off the car and went to the trunk with a huge grin.
“Leave the lingerie, Marcus. It won’t be necessary,”
she called out, peeking around me. She turned back. “I’m not wearing lingerie for you, and stop using the word insist. It’s overbearing.”
She had no clue how overbearing I could be. Not to mention how much I was tempering myself with her.
“Yet. You aren’t wearing lingerie for me yet. But you got yourself a deal. Look at us negotiating like adults.”
I smirked.
She gasped loudly and flushed ten shades of red.
“In your dreams, buddy,”
she mumbled, shaking her glorious hair.
“In my dreams, you wear lingerie. But don’t worry, it’s not on you for long.”
I trailed my hand down her arm, watching her tremble.
“You’re making me want to change my mind. I suggest you go away. Oh, and no bothering me until Friday.”
“Very well, kitten. Until Friday.”
I bowed, feeling lighter than ever.