All of You (22 page)

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, yes, I do.” He walked up to her now, invading her space, almost wrapping his hands around her shoulders, he wanted to shake her so much. “You don’t think I paid attention, but I did. I knew you. I knew who you were under the frills and the manners and all that other shit she used to make you do. You used to laugh, Pen. I haven’t heard you laugh once since I came back. Not a real laugh. It wasn’t loud, wasn’t crazy, but fuck, at least you did it. When the hell did you lose what made you special?”

That finally seemed to snap her back to reality because she put her hands on his chest and shoved. “You happened, Raul. You. I spent fifteen years throwing myself at you because I couldn’t seem to help it and you never cared.”

He let her move him, shock at her emotional explosion muting his earlier frustration. She pushed again, as if she thought she could throw him across the room instead of a single step backward.

“Finally, finally, when I thought you felt something for me, all that happened was a horrible drunken fuck in a closet. A closet, Raul. Nameless, faceless and completely forgettable.” She pounded at him, enough that it actually hurt this time. Or was that only because of what she was saying? “You left and you never looked back. You destroyed me. Does that make your ego feel better? I thought I lost everything the day you left, and I’ve spent the rest of my life proving myself wrong. Proving to myself—if no one else—that you don’t matter anymore, and you know what, I’ve done a hell of a job.

“So excuse me if I’m not special enough for you anymore. Maybe it was the pregnancy afterward that took a little of the shine off. Or do you think it was surviving medical school with an infant? It could have been the pointless relationships I tried to have every now and again, each one a little more depressing than the last. Or maybe, just maybe, it was living with my mother’s unflagging disappointment my entire life because at every single turn, I’ve lived up to everyone’s lowest expectations.

“And by the way, yes, she’s a bitch, okay, but she’s my bitchy mother and if you want my respect for your family you’d better damn well have some for mine. Either way, you do not get to decide if I’m special, Raul. You made your mind up a long time ago that I wasn’t—”

The kiss muffled her words. She shoved at him again, but he didn’t let her go. She had to stop talking. Because everything she was saying was ripping his chest open. He licked at her lips, taking her fists into his hands and holding them still. She kept trying to hit him, but eventually she stopped fighting. Instead he felt her lips soften, part and then the darting touch of her tongue against his. She stroked, a warm, wet invitation that he’d have to have been dead for three days to turn down.

Letting go of her hands, he cupped her face, gentling his touch but unable to tamp down the hunger. His body hardened for her, pushing against her. Her palms slid down his chest, burning a trail to his waist, where she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and pulled his hips closer. Flush, their bodies strained into each other from chest to knee.

The kiss slowed, became an exploration. He tasted her lips, drawing the full curve of the bottom one into his mouth before delving back inside to stroke her tongue with his. His senses filled with her, the taste of her, the scent and the feel of her. She met him kiss for kiss, rising up on her toes to get that little bit closer.

When the kiss finally broke, he still held her face cupped in his hands, but the angry fire in her eyes had cooled, the cobalt color shimmering with unshed tears. With unabashed want. Her lips pink and swollen, open and moist enough for him to want to pull her right back in.

She stared at him, looking almost tormented. “Why can’t I hate you?”

Wouldn’t everything be easier if she could? He touched her lip with his thumb, caressing it carefully. “Probably the same reason I don’t think I can let you go tonight.”

He thought she’d get angry again, but all she did was sniff and blink back her tears. Her poise threatened to return, and with it he knew would go any chance of touching her. Kissing her again. Making love to her, which he’d just told her he meant to do.

A good man would have released his hold and left. A good man would tell her she deserved better than the way he’d treated her all her life. But if there was one thing Raul knew about himself, it was that no one in their right mind would ever call him good.

“Don’t make me let you go, Pen. I won’t be able to.”

Penelope didn’t pretend to misunderstand. Or lie and say she didn’t want him just as much. “What about Chloe? I don’t want—”

“I’ll be gone before she wakes up.”

She glanced down at the couch, a flicker of distaste making her flinch.

“Your bed.” She was going to stop expecting the worst from him one of these days. He’d see to it. Starting tonight. Swooping down, he scooped her up to his chest and headed back to the stairs.

One wrong move, and she could be dancing on her grave…

Pas de Deux

© 2010 Fiona Jayde

Two years after an injury put her dancing career on hold, Lynnrina Kovaleva is determined to reclaim her place on the stage. On the eve of her comeback production, she takes the edge off her nerves with a one-night stand in the strong arms of celebrity bodyguard Mateo Rivera.

Ex-cop Mateo is celebrating one hell of an anniversary: eight months since he was declared unfit for duty. When a delicate beauty boldly propositions him in a bar, he chooses to lose himself in her body rather than lose his mind to alcohol. This choice comes back to haunt him when he’s hired to protect a prima ballerina who’s been receiving threats.

Despite her shock at seeing him again, Lynn must not allow their intense attraction—or any creepy fan letters—to undermine her performance. Mateo can’t reconcile this coldly focused dancer with the passionate woman who seduced him. Yet he sees fire under the ice, pain hidden by the smooth mask of perfection.

The vivid memory of their entwined bodies wars with the job at hand, but he must keep Lynn safe—regardless of the cost. The most difficult challenge, however, will be keeping his hands to himself.

Warning: Contains jetés, pliés, a chilling touch of danger, and the boiling heat of an unwanted attraction that combusts into passionate sex.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Pas de Deux:

Her legs ready to give out, Lynn only wanted to reach her dressing room and sit for a small precious second. Sit and not move a single inch. She went straight for her stash, barely chewing the first chocolate before tearing open another one and actually biting off a piece. It hurt to chew. Her whole body was aching. A month until opening night, and she wasn’t sure she had the stamina to carry it. Six different duets, each of them grueling. Her aching feet throbbed at the mere thought.

She took another piece, letting the taste melt on her tongue before she swallowed. A tub filled to the brim with soothing hot water was just a few minutes away. She simply had to find the strength to get her body up and moving, and face Mateo in the hallway. She’d seen him watch her with those cool onyx eyes. Dark gaze, dark clothes that should have been pretentious yet weren’t.

Pushing the thought of him away, Lynn thought about soaking in a tub until her fingers wrinkled. Just a few minutes more. The quick knock on the door made her softly groan. She didn’t want to put on a bright face, didn’t think she had the strength for it. Another piece of Midnight Dark. as the door swung open.

“I didn’t say come in,” she muttered with a mouthful of chocolate just as Mateo’s gaze focused in on the bag of Ghirardelli’s.

“You ready?”

She was too tired to think about it. “I need a couple of minutes more.”

“You tried to get rid of me.” Cool voice, his hands tucked in his pockets. Again her dressing room seemed much too small with him inside.

“I have an alarm set up and there’ve been no more letters.” And at this point she was more nervous around Mateo than some anonymous creep. “I don’t think I need you…” She paused and started over. “I don’t think I need a bodyguard anymore. I can ask Simon to walk me home. Or André.”

“We both know that’s not why you wanted to get rid of me.” Those cool dark eyes were merciless.

“Maybe. It doesn’t matter now.” She didn’t have the strength to shrug. “Give me a few more minutes.”

“Your leg bothering you?”

“It’s fine.” Even her skin was hurting. Only a few more minutes and she could drown in hot water and try to forget she’d have to do it all again tomorrow.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” His voice went soft, nearly soothing.

“Do what?”

“You’re exhausted. You’re in pain. You work like a damned horse.” If she wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of baffled respect in that gruff tone.

“It’s what I do.” Sometimes she hated it. “I’ve worked for it my whole life.” After the surgery, when she was told there was a chance she wouldn’t dance again, the searing panic had been accompanied by a tiny guilty kernel of relief.

“You ever wanted to do something else?”

Because he already knew her dirty secret, Lynn reached into the bag of chocolates. Since he was here and she didn’t want to leave just yet she offered him a blue-wrapped piece. His fingers brushed over her palm, his touch brief and electrifying. Even through aching muscles, she felt a tiny coiling of heat.

“I never thought about doing anything else.” She was never allowed to. The rich dark taste of chocolate flooded her taste buds. “My family sent me here to dance.”

“Where are your parents now?”

“Still back in Ukraine.” They used to come for every big show. Now, she was lucky if they made it here once in three years. And Aunt Maria was too busy taking care of her ailing mother. Sacrifices. Always sacrifices.

“My mother hated it when I became a cop.” His eyes were distant in the mirror.

“Really?” She hadn’t known he was a cop. She’d slept with him and barely knew him. “You were a policeman?”

He nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

“You miss it?”

“Yeah.” He stood. “Let’s go.”

Discipline had been ingrained in her for years. She stood despite the screaming protests of her muscles, but when he took her bag she didn’t say a thing.

The ride home smelled like cigarettes and leather. The short walk to her door was just a blur.

“Go relax.” Mateo walked in after her as she struggled to remember the alarm code. Not even thinking to protest that he knew the code, Lynn staggered into the bathroom to find hot water bliss.

Warmth seeped into her muscles and had her melting in relief. She didn’t bother with salts or bath bubbles, just sank into the small claw-footed tub and let the water pour over her and soothe the pains.

When he walked in with a glass full of something orange, she didn’t have the energy to hide her body from his gaze.

“You’ll scald yourself.”

“It feels good.”

He sat on the white edge of the tub. Somehow it wasn’t strange having him here. “Drink this.”

Moving her arm was too much effort. “What is it?”

“Orange juice.”

“I’ll drop it.”

He didn’t argue. Instead he brought the glass close to her lips.

“You shouldn’t be in here.” Since the glass was there, nearly touching her lips, she took a long cold sip.

“Tell me to go.” Those onyx eyes challenged her to do just that while she was naked in hot water drinking orange juice.

She didn’t have the energy to flush.

Because it tasted good and all of a sudden she was thirsty, Lynn gulped the juice. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said again and leaned back in the hot and churning water.

When she opened her eyes, he stood holding a huge green towel.

“Why are you doing this?” She sounded like a cranky child. Because of it, she made the effort to stand up and let him drape the towel around her, his movements gentle as he rubbed the moisture off her skin. “Why are you taking care of me?”

“Somebody has to.” He carried her out of the steam-filled bathroom, his arms strong and secure around her. She didn’t have to pose, to lock her feet, do anything but simply put her forehead on his shoulder and be carried. He laid her face down on the bed.

“I’m too tired for sex games.” Except she felt a low tug of arousal lazily floating in her veins.

Warm palms cradled her feet. “I had another game in mind.” His breath softly caressed her skin.

He pressed a thumb into the aching arch of her left foot, gently but firmly squeezed and rubbed before giving the same treatment to her other foot. They felt tiny inside his hands, dainty and female, and when he pushed to have her flex her toes, she let herself be pampered. Just this once.

His hands continued upward, pressing into the muscles of her calves, the inside of her knees, her thighs. She stiffened when his fingers softy traced over the scar above her knee. Then she felt his lips over it, tracing it, as if soothing it with soft, soft kisses.

Desire coiled harder in her belly.

She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to burst the moment. Instead she spread her thighs apart and softly said his name. “Mateo.”

“Are you sure you want this?”

She wasn’t sure about anything except for this. “I am.”

In the warm silence, he traced slow open-mouthed kisses over the back of her thighs, moving higher towards her buttocks. His hands were on her calves, stroking the sensitive skin with light teasing caresses.

A shudder rippled through her as his lips touched a tender spot just below her spine, lingered there before continuing the journey upwards, each kiss along her back a sensual delicious touch. Another shiver when he paused between her shoulder blades to lightly scrape his teeth over her skin, then kiss away the tiny sting that added a small edge of pain to the sweetness of pleasure.

His hands tenderly palmed the soft globes of her buttocks before leaving her skin. Foil ripped. Then his weight pressed into her, covering her with warmth, the tip of him probing inside her.

She lifted up her hips and turned her head so she could see them in the mirror, his muscles taut as he loomed over her with his arms on each side of her shoulders, a tiny cross hanging down from his neck.