Chapter Fifteen Cord
Fifteen
Cord
My phone buzzes in my hand, but I hesitate to look at the screen. Either Allegra has sent me the photos or she decided she didn’t want me to see them after all. Either way, everything between us is about to change.
I take in a long breath and then glance at the screen. A thumbnail of an image pops up, then another, then another, then another.
I close my eyes, punching in my passcode by rote. When I open them, the first of the photos is there, enlarged on the screen.
Allegra, wrapped up in pretty pink lingerie, a sexy smirk on her face.
Allegra in a different set of lingerie, in an arabesque in front of a window. The light hits her face, making it look like a glow emanates from her skin.
Allegra, wearing nothing but her pointe shoes.
Her body is angled and posed so the only thing I can really see is the perfect curve of her ass, but I stare at it for so long, I can almost feel the smooth skin under my palm as I imagine my hands skating over her bare flesh. The breath in my lungs catches there.
She’s sent me one more. This one almost knocks me over, my hand blindly grasping for the wall.
Allegra, on a bed, her long legs resting against the headboard. A white sheet covers her lower half, but her breasts are bared, fully visible. Round and perfect and seemingly just waiting for my tongue to trace the peaked buds of her nipples.
I’ve been silent for way too long, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to form coherent thoughts right now. Still, I don’t want her to get the wrong impression—that I’m not responding because I’m not interested. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Me: Holy shit, Slippers.
Me: These are fucking stunning.
Me: I don’t even have words. Seriously.
Me: Thank you for letting me see them.
I swipe back through each of the photos again, reaching down to adjust myself, my dick gone half hard in my jeans.
Allegra: I’m glad you like them.
Me: I don’t just like them.
Me: Fuck. These are going to be burned in my brain for a long time.
I don’t know how I’m going to get them out of my brain. I don’t know how I can expect my brain to regain function at this point.
Allegra: Well, they live on your phone now so you can look at them any time.
Me: Is that so?
Allegra: It is.
Is that an invitation? Do I want it to be one?
Me: Do you want me to save them for later, Allegra? Do you want me to look at them again later tonight, when I’m home alone?
I shouldn’t want to, especially not after what I heard on opening night. It should have been a stark reminder of why this is a terrible idea. Why I need to stay the hell away from Allegra Hart and any association with Ballet New York.
But that doesn’t stop me from pushing her.
Allegra: What if I do?
Me: If you do, then I will.
Allegra: I want you to look at the photos of me when you get home tonight, Cord.
My cock twitches in my pants. I’m seconds away from jerking myself off right now. But then my eyes catch on the time.
Me: Fuck.
Me: I have to go. We have a preshow meeting I’m supposed to be leading.
Me: And I’m not really in any condition to be standing up before a group of my employees at the moment.
There’s a long pause, the typing dots dancing along the bottom of my screen. I keep my eyes trained on them, running banal images through my mind in the hopes of calming down my erection.
Allegra: Okay. Have a good show tonight.
Me: Can I text you later?
I send the message before I truly consider all the reasons why I shouldn’t. Am I going to get home tonight and spend my evening sexting with Allegra Hart? Am I going to stroke my cock while I look at her gorgeous body and think about all the things I would do to her if I had her in my bed?
I’m about to retract the offer when she responds.
Allegra: Of course.
Fuck. I don’t respond, shoving my phone in my back pocket and grabbing my bag. I’m already running late, so I jog to the theater, using the brief time and sharp air to clear my mind.
When I arrive at the Six Pact theater, the guys are already gathered in the audience, Noah onstage leading the preshow meeting.
I’m pissed at myself, but at least I know Noah is always here to cover for me when I fuck up. I give him a wave to let him know I’m here, then head backstage to my dressing room.
I try not to be a diva when it comes to the show, but the one thing I insisted on was a private dressing room, and tonight I’m grateful for it.
I never drink before shows—I rarely drink at all—but I find the emergency stash of whiskey I keep in my cupboard and pour myself a shot.
The liquor blazes a trail of fire down my throat and I let the burn center me.
Getting involved with Allegra would be a colossal mistake.
My brain knows this. Even my heart knows this, despite it protesting more and more lately.
It’s my dick that’s the real problem here.
Maybe the solution is to finally get laid for the first time in forever. God knows all I have to do is find a willing partner after the show. It wouldn’t even be that hard.
But I’ve never been into casual sex, despite what people might assume about me and my job.
Something tells me casual sex is not the way to get Allegra out of my head anyway.
There’s a knock on my door just as I’m pouring myself a second shot.
“Come in.” I know it’s Noah even before he opens the door, letting himself into the room and closing it behind him.
“Everything okay?”
Of course he’s not mad at me for shirking my responsibilities and leaving him to pick up the slack.
“Is that whiskey? Jesus, Cord, is the club in trouble? What the fuck is going on?”
I hand him the shot instead of drinking it myself, sinking into the chair in front of the dressing table I don’t actually use. Some of the guys wear makeup, both on their face and body—to enhance their muscles—but I’ve had enough stage makeup plastered on my skin to last a lifetime.
Noah perches on the table, downing the shot. “Never one to turn down free booze, but don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily.”
“I fucked up.”
“This is about Allegra, isn’t it?”
Fuck the people in my life for being so damn intuitive. Can’t a guy get a little privacy? I don’t confirm or deny, which Noah takes for the confirmation it is.
He sighs, leaning back against the mirror. “I don’t really see what the big problem is, bro.”
I shoot him a look. I haven’t told the full story to many people, but Noah is one of them. If anyone should understand why getting involved with Allegra would be a terrible decision, it’s him.
He shrugs. “Not sorry. I don’t think it’s fair to impose your personal history on another person who had nothing to do with the situation.”
I take the shot glass back from him, refilling it. “I called her the other night, after her show opened.”
He arches his dark eyebrows but doesn’t say anything.
“She was in a panic, totally freaked out, couldn’t catch her breath. Used me as a diversion.”
“Shit. What happened to her?”
“I didn’t get the full story, but from what I gathered, her director put her in some kind of uncomfortable position. I don’t know the extent of it.”
“But you can imagine,” he mumbles, running a hand through his thick black hair.
“Yeah. I can imagine.” I toss back another shot, securing the cap on the bottle and putting it back in the cupboard because I sure as hell don’t need any more.
“How did it make you feel, hearing that?” It’s the kind of insightful question I’ve come to expect from Noah, whose parents are both therapists.
“I think it’s what the kids these days might call ‘triggering.’ ” I don’t mean to sound sarcastic, but it comes out harsher than I intend.
Noah nods. “I could see how that would be extremely triggering for you. How did you react in the moment?”
“I stayed on the phone with her until she got home.” I sigh, leaning back in my chair.
“But what I wanted to do was drive my ass uptown and deck the motherfucker. I knew he was toxic based on what he said to Allegra about her auditioning for the role she wants, but being so close to it was a rude awakening.”
Noah crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes never leaving my face. “Given what you and Chloe went through, I understand why your boundary has always been no contact with ballet.”
“But?”
“But it’s been years, Cord. Look at what you’ve done, what Chloe has done, in the meantime. And if you let the actions of the past keep you from something you want in the future, isn’t that just letting them win?” Noah checks the time on his phone. “I gotta go get ready.”
The intercom in the room buzzes. “House is now open. Places in thirty.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Noah hops down from the table, clapping me on the shoulder. “Happy to talk more later if you need to.”
I shake my head, knowing he’s going to tell me more of the same, just as firmly as I know I’m not ready to hear it. “I appreciate it, man, but I think I’m good.”
He levels me with a glare in the mirror. “You’re still not going to let yourself have feelings for her, are you?”
I try to force a grin, but it doesn’t work. Even if it did, he would know it’s a lie. “I can’t.”
He nods. “Okay. You gotta do what feels right for you.”
With another clap on the shoulder, this one maybe a little more forceful than the last one, he lets himself out of my dressing room.
The door thuds shut behind him and I let my head fall into my hands. A second later, I reach for my phone, pulling up the images Allegra sent me. I know I don’t have the strength to fully delete them, but I send them to a password-protected folder and vow not to look at them again.
At least, not until I’ve figured out my shit.