Page 86 of Dance with Me
“Moe serdtse prinadlezhit tebe.”He hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t meant to say anything as he slid inside her, but the words slipped out. They came from the truest part of him, and he wouldn’t take them back.
She whispered his name, and something shifted in him and settled into place. His heart pounded, and the word flitting through his thoughts washome.
Home. The scent of figs and ginger. High, surprised laughter, and the snap of temper in Spanish. Warmth in his bed, tangling with long legs and arms.
He hitched her uninjured leg over his hip and rolled onto his side, taking her with him, keeping himself lodged within her. With his eyes on hers, their heavy breaths mingling, he set the pace. Slow and steady, deep and close. Their eyes locked, and he read her pleasure there, and something else. Something in the way she clung to him, in her voice when she’d said, “You.” They’d been like this so many times before, yet this time was unlike any other.
Open. She was open, hiding nothing. Her heart was in her eyes. Maybe it always had been.
She held onto him, pumping her hips to the rhythm he set. Every time they danced, every time they fucked, she followed his lead. Whatever he wanted, she gave, without question or hesitation.
Maybe that was the sign. Maybe he’d been blind to it all along, taking her silence and reservation for disinterest, when really, she was protecting her own heart.
Did it matter that she’d never made the first move? That she never asked for more?
Why should she have? It should have been on him to willingly give it. That first day, in the rehearsal room, he should have fallen at her feet and offered her everything he was, everything he had to give.
He’d been too scared to take the risk. Too uncertain of her. But this was a woman who’d never known deep love. Of course she hid her heart.
And still, she’d given him what he asked. Every time. He’d just never asked for more, becausehewas the one holding back.
Where else was he doing that?
Gritting his teeth, he increased the pace of his thrusts. “I’m sorry,Kroshka.”
Her eyes crossed and she dug her nails into his shoulder. “For what?”
“I should’ve been better.” He slipped his hand around her leg to rub her clit. “You deserved better.”
She let out a high moan. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’ll make it up to you. I promise. From now on.” He captured her mouth as he pumped into her with shallow thrusts, keeping the focus on her clit.
Her body clenched, then spasmed. Against his lips, she cried out. He held on to her, even as her pussy squeezed his dick, even as she shook and trembled. He held her, kissed her, touched her, and then it was too much.
Too much, and exactly perfect.
His own body tightened. His skin prickled in goosebumps as pleasure zinged through him. He pressed his face into her hair and pounded his hips, setting off his own orgasm.
When it was done, he was gasping. Natasha held him, rubbing his sweat-slickened back.
“What did you say?” Her voice was quiet. “Earlier.”
He didn’t lift his head, letting her hair hide his face. Like a damn coward.
“You deserve better.”
“No. Before that. In Russian.”
Oh. That. He hesitated, but why not tell her? Time to start doing better.
“My heart belongs, uh, to you.”
She was quiet for a moment. Her hands still slid lazily up and down his back. Then she scooted down and pressed her lips to his chest, right above where his heart pounded from exertion and pleasure.
He closed his eyes. How the hell had he ever found it in him to let this woman go?
One thing was for sure. He wasn’t walking away from her ever again.
