Page 45 of On Dancer
“Your coat.”
“Thank you.” He grinned sweetly up at me, eyes as intent as if we were alone in the room. His adoration was heady stuff, and I was going to miss the attention so much.
“You’re cute jealous,” Rudy said quietly as we headed out into the cold and blustery night. “Bloodthirsty. But cute.”
I released a frustrated sound. “I don’t have a right to be jealous.”
“You do for another eight days.” Rudy shifted his bags so he could grab my hand. I let him. It was late and the street was largely deserted, but more importantly, I simply didn’t want to let him go. “And I’m likely turning down Chris’s coffee invite even after the first of the year. I wouldn’t know what to do with all that aggressive good cheer.”
“Are you saying I’ve given you a thing for temperamental dancers?” I couldn’t hide the relief tinging my voice.
“Apparently aloof and cranky does it for me.” Rudy swung my hand lightly. Our breath hung in front of us, and the wind brought a few rogue flurries. Not a storm yet, but warning signs nonetheless. Rudy paused as we reached where I’d parked near the back door. “Tell me you’re coming up even though it’s late.”
Snow was in the offing, we were both in this thing way too deep, and the risk of gossip reaching our mothers grew ever larger, but hell if I could quit now.
“Oh, I’m coming.” I winked at him, every bit as cheeky as Chris had been. “And so are you.”
“Good.” Rudy turned pink under the parking lot lights. “Because there’s something on my wishlist I want to try.”
“Anything.” As I followed him to the stairwell, anticipation thrummed through me. Whatever he had in mind, I was determined to give it to him. Foolishly selfish, I wanted memories of us to linger far beyond this season.
Twenty-Four
Tour en l’air:a jumping turn in the air, usually a double turn referred to as a Double Tour.
Rudy
The second I shut the stairwell door behind us, Alexander crowded in for a kiss. Our bags bumped and jostled, but he seemed far more intent on staking a claim than on what might become of the leftover cheese. A jealous Alexander might be my personal favorite. The game-night party had been a roaring success. Great food. New sea glass-looking dice for my collection from the gift exchange. A win against Troy, which was always nice. And Alexander bristled like a mad porcupine every time Chris Davis looked my direction. The attention from the teacher was flattering, but I wasn’t seriously interested.
Any romantic inclinations I had were solely focused on Alexander, and I didn’t want to think about life after this fling. He’d be a tough act to follow. Right now, though, the only placeI wanted to follow him was to my bedroom. I broke the kiss long enough to push him toward the stairs, but he stopped at each landing for another kiss before I finally let us into my apartment.
We dumped the bags on my small table in between more kisses that melted my brain and fogged my glasses until I’d almost forgotten about the plans I’d had all day. I backed Alexander against my fridge, but he held up a hand.
“I believe you had a request from that wish list of yours.” He arched his eyebrows, expression benevolent, a king who wanted nothing more than to grant my wish.
“Yes. I really want…” I paused, fumbling with how to word this.Fuckseemed far too crude for the sweetness that flowed between us with every touch.Sexwasn’t accurate because we’d been trading orgasms for nearly a week now, although our explorations were largely limited to hands and mouths. I discarded a few other clinical terms before settling on, “I want to bottom. Going slow has been wonderful, but I want that experience to be with you.”
I was fully aware that virginity was a construct. I’d shared orgasms with another person. Therefore, to my mind, I was no longer a virgin. Penetrative sex wasn’t a requirement for that or any other purpose, but ever since Alexander had said he preferred to top, my longing to share this with him had only grown stronger with each passing day.
“If you’re sure.” Alexander gave a sharp nod, his face far more serious now. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Word of caution, though, it can be rather uncomfortable the first time.” Eyes going distant, his nose wrinkled as if an unpleasant memory had surfaced. “Not everyone likes bottoming either, and even among those that do, not all find it orgasmic.”
“I’m aware.” I gave a playful laugh to counter his warning. “I’ve done research.”
“Of course you have.” His tone lightened a bit, but the fine lines around his eyes and mouth remained.
“And if solo play is any indicator, I’ll like it plenty.” I made my tone flirty, hoping to convey confidence despite my jangling nerves.
“Solo play, you say?” Alexander’s expression darkened, the first flare of passion since I’d made the request. “That’s a rather hot image. And you liked it?”
“Mm-hmm.” I hummed my agreement, cheeks heating. “A lot.”
“In that case, show me to your bedroom.” He took a step away from my tiny kitchen only to stop partway to the short hall that led to my bedroom and bathroom. “Wait. Would you like a shower first? It’s not a requirement, but I’m happy to amuse myself with my phone for a few minutes if that would help you feel more comfortable.”
Naturally, Alexander, who carried no less than five clean T-shirts at any given time in his dance bag, would think of my physical comfort beyond the obvious. It had been a long day, and while I’d planned on asking to try this, the idea of a shower was rather tempting.
“I like that plan.” I glanced toward the bathroom, which had last seen renovation during the eighties, as evidenced by salmon-colored Formica counters and aging fixtures. Unlike Alexander’s marvelous pool house bathroom, the tub-shower combo was smaller than most budget motel offerings, with a frosted sliding door that made an already tight space that much more confined. “I’d offer to share, but?—”
“I’ve seen how tiny that shower is.” Alexander chuckled. He’d spent enough time around here this week to get to know my apartment’s layout. “Sharing might require contortions beyond my dancer’s flexibility. Go.”
