Page 91 of Dance with Me
“Good pronunciation.” He patted her hip. “And . . . not exactly. The assholes basically told me I wasn’t famous enough.”
She reared back, eyes wide, outraged on his behalf. “Are they crazy?”
“They said I hadn’t done anything mainstream in a while, and since the last show was a failure, they wouldn’t go along with it until I was back in the public eye.”
Her jaw dropped. “Is that when you joinedThe Dance Off?”
“Bingo.” He bopped her on the nose with his finger. “You really have been following my career.”
She scrunched her face up and looked embarrassed. “It’s the only reason why people join that show. To get famous or get famous again.”
“And it works.”
“But that was years ago. Why haven’t you done another show yet?”
And there it was. The question he really didn’t want to answer, mainly because there was no good reason.
“Busy.” He toyed with a rubber band on the desk. “BetweenThe Dance Off,the restaurant, my stocks—”
“Dimitri.” She caught his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. “Why haven’t you done yourownshow yet?”
“I gotta think about it.” Even to him, that sounded weak.
She rolled her eyes. Apparently, it sounded weak to her, too. “You’re gonna make me guess?”
“Go ahead.” Shit, he shouldn’t have said that.
She shook her hair back and sat up a little straighter on his lap, a move that pushed her breasts into his face. He raised a hand to pinch her nipple, and she slapped his fingers away.
“You’re worried they’ll turn you down again.”
Her words triggered the fear, and excuses rose to his lips, the same ones he’d been telling himself—and now Alex—for ages. “I just want to be sure they’ll go along with it before I start this whole process again. It’s a lot of work, and—”
“Shut up.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “Once a week, for six months out of the year, millions of people watch you on TV. As a judge, you get more screen time than any of the dancers, while doing a fraction of the work. You’re famous, Dimitri. A fucking household name. You don’t want to besure.You, my friend, arestalling.”
He scowled. She wasn’t wrong. He’d done it with her, too, stalling for three years, convincing himself it was because he wanted to besureshe felt the same way about him. But really? He was scared she’d turn him down.
Which was ridiculous, now that he looked at it without the lens of fear. She had never turned him down. She’d done everything he ever asked of her. He just hadn’t asked for more.
Because he was an idiot. He tightened his grip on her hips. Now that he had her, he wasn’t letting go.
“So, the question becomes,” she continued, “why are you stalling?”
He opened his mouth, but she covered it with her hand.
“I think,” she said. “You’re scared of failing. I get it, because I worry about it, too. But you’re worried about failing at something that has your name on it.”
He sucked in a breath.
“Did I get it right?” she asked, looking pleased.
He pulled her against him and rained kisses on her neck. “Nail on the head,” he growled.
She sighed and melted against him. “Just do it,Macho.”
“Here?” His dick jumped, pressing against the underside of her thigh. If he shifted her just a little, he could slip right in.
Laughing, she pushed at his shoulders. “You know what I mean.Dom Navsegda.Make it happen. You have everything you need. Stop holding back. You can’t wait for everything to be safe and secure before you make a move.”
