Page 77 of Forbidden Dance
I nod.
He disappears for a moment, and when he returns, leans down for a kiss as he crawls across the bed to me.
My body is on fire. When he touches my breast, I lurch upward. He smiles against my mouth. “I’ve wanted you for so long. It feels like years.”
He parts my knees, pressing his palm against me. My body responds again, desperate for him, so full of need.
Blitz shifts his hand away and he’s there, moving against me, slipping gently inside.
I cry out, my body so ready for him, so willing to take him in. He presses his lips against my neck, easing himself out and back in.
My hands flatten against his lower back, clutching him. I’m breathless and eager. Everything is new again, the sensations, the emotional flood.
Blitz quickens his rhythm, reaching between us to add to my sensation. I’ve never felt this before, and I rise to him, spiraling up again. It seems impossible after the moment on the sofa, but I feel it, burgeoning inside me, the tension and the desire.
“My sweet Livia,” he says. “How I have pined for you.”
His finger moves more swiftly, and his pace increases to match. I can’t think of anything other than this man, his touch, his body shifting over mine.
The frenzy builds, and I can feel the moment arriving. I open my eyes and see Blitz watching me, attentive and so very close.
The look there is nothing I’ve seen before, not in all the pictures or all the clips, not even in person in all the moments we’ve shared. It’s adoration and tenderness, beauty and care. It sends me over the top, crying out, falling into bliss.
His body tenses and his strokes move into me with more force. Then I feel it, the subtle contractions of him inside me as he holds still, reveling in the moment.
I hang on to him until he relaxes, and we come down together, his face next to mine, his body still pressed against me. I touch his skin, his back, his waist, the textures of him. I want to know him, memorize all the parts that make his whole.
After a moment, he shifts next to me and draws me close. We breathe together, content and happy. There is no outside, no world that demands things from us. Just our bed, the silk drapes around it, and the air we take in.
We’re calm and relaxed, but there’s no way I can sleep. I trail my finger along his sideburn, down his neck, along the strong shoulder just where I hold it when we waltz.
“Tell me something about Blitz Craven that I can’t read on the Internet,” I say.
He picks up my hand and kisses my fingers. “That the kids in my elementary school thought I was a dork and used to sing, ‘Bennie, Bennie, not worth a penny.’”
“Oh!” I say. “I bet they don’t think that now.”
He rolls on his back. The glow from the bathroom light highlights every indentation of his abs. I could stare at him all night.
“That is one of the perks of the gig,” he says. “Making my enemies mad with envy.”
“Do you have a lot of them?” I ask. “Enemies?”
“I didn’t used to,” he says. “But when you get to this level of the game, you rack them up pretty fast.”
I lay my head on his chest, listening to the steady thump thump of his heart. “Your character is rather larger than life. I’m sure it’s intimidating.”
“One day it will be gone. Poof. Show over.”
“Then what for Blitz Craven?”
He twirls a piece of my hair. “Watch old movies in a rundown theater with a girl who sometimes doesn’t wear panties.”
I roll my face into his chest to hide my blush, which is silly given that I’m lying here naked with him now.
“So tell me, Princess Livia, what is something I don’t know about you?”
My throat constricts. I immediately think of Gabriella. Can I tell him? I’m not sure. Despite everything, this night, him returning for me, the phone — I could still just be a fling.
