Page 33 of Guarded Hearts
“I want to do that again,” Pasha said before biting into an apple and making a spinning motion with his hand.
“The rapid roll?” I reset the song on my phone. We’d progressed through the first third of the song, not quite at full pace but close. Yesterday, when we’d done it to the music for the first time, I’d been giddy with excitement. Maybe the routine hadn’t been a mistake after all. We had three weeks left on the tour and five weeks until the wedding.
“Yes, that one.”
“Got it.” I forwarded the song to a little before the right place. “Ready?”
He polished off the apple and tossed it toward the garbage can in the corner, nailing it on the first throw. He took first position, and I joined him.
Our gazes locked, and he grinned. “This dancing is not so bad.”
A wave of pleasure spread across my body. “Not so bad?”
“With you, it’s not so bad. Thank you for teaching me.”
I blushed. We’d missed our cue, but I couldn’t stop looking in his eyes, so sparkly and happy. I wondered whether he saw the same in me. Alive, as though he’d filled me with sunlight. “You’ve been an exemplary student.”
He chuckled. “No, I was terrible. But I’m learning.” There was tenderness in his gaze. “I like being this close to you all the time.”
“Or closer,” I whispered, thinking of how we’d been as soon as we walked into the practice room earlier. I always arrived first, and he locked the door when he entered after. We didn’t touch outside the room. The first graze of his hand on my arm was a drop of water after a drought, just before the torrential rain started. I loved that initial contact, the promise of what was to come humming between us at a frequency only we couldunderstand. What had started as sex had become more, but I wasn’t sure how to label what was happening.
He broke the hold we’d been locked in, framed my face, and kissed me. I tugged on the waistband of his pants, closing the distance. “Missed our cue,” he mumbled as his lips nibbled my neck.
“This wasn’t our cue?” I clutched his shoulders, burning with desire.
“Not for this dance. S’a different one.” His hands crept up my tank top.
“I like this one better.”
A knock on the door made us jump apart. I knew I was flushed, and I ran my hands down my shirt, straightening my clothes. I went to my bag to collect myself and check my phone.
Pasha pressed on his watch and grimaced. “Mia.” He unlocked the door and stepped back to let her into the practice room.
“I’ve got thirty minutes.” Mia entered like a tiny tornado whirling around the room. “Where are we at?”
“First third of the routine with music, and we’ll see if we can get you two up to full speed.” I queued the song on my phone.
“Really?” She turned to Pasha in surprise. “At speed?”
Pasha grinned and gripped the bottom of his T-shirt, flapping some air into it. We’d been going over the routine for almost two hours already today, and we were both covered in a sheen of sweat. “Really.”
“Okay,” Mia said. Her gaze flipped back and forth between us. “This is great news. I was honestly getting a little worried.”
“We’ll be fine,” Pasha said. “Alyssa is an excellent teacher.”
“You two have certainly been spending a lot of time in the practice room at every arena.” She laughed as she came to first position. “Obviously, I knew we were making progress, but to have athirdof the routine at speed with five weeks left till the wedding is a-mazing.”
The next half hour passed in a barrage of steps, turns, and lifts. At the end of it, Mia hugged us both. “Incredible,” she said. “I’m so proud of you both. It’s really coming together. This is going to be so much fun!”
“I’m so happy you’re happy.” I grinned, joy and relief mingling.
“I gotta go.” Mia’s watch beeped. “But whatever you’re doing is working. Big guy,” Mia said, hugging Pasha one more time, “you’re so light on your feet. Who knew?”
The door clicked closed behind Mia. We grinned at each other. There were so many things I wanted to say about his work ethic, about his kindness, about how much I loved his company. Before I could get any words out, my phone rang.
I jogged over to my bag, buoyant from Mia’s excitement, from the realization we were going to nail this routine in front of millions of people. Olivia’s name was on my display, and I held up a hand to Pasha to get him to wait. I didn’t want him to leave yet. “It’s my sister.”
“I’ll go,” Pasha said, gathering up his things. “I need to eat and get ready for my shift.”
