Sultry Groove (Reckless Beat #4) (15 page)

“Yeah, Red. You.” He grabbed her hand, entwining their fingers. “You’ve pulled my thoughts away from things I couldn’t stop repeating in my head. You’ve helped me.” His lips tilted in the sweetest thug of a smile. “Let me help you.”

She ramped her fake bravado, patting him on the chest as she beamed at him. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

He didn’t return her grin. His face was blank. Devoid of expression. “Is this about your stipulations in the bedroom the other night?”

She frowned, sliding her fingers from his grasp. “Can we
not
do this, please?” She strode for the door and winced when he came up behind her, placing his hands on her waist.

“You can tell me.”

“And what if I don’t want to?” She was ready to claw her way out of here.

She took a step and he pulled her back, this time holding her close to his chest, a strong arm around her stomach. His mouth hovered near her cheek, the faint graze of his stubble scraping her ear.

“You let me touch you while we were dancing. You never pointed it out because some of the moves you instructed meant I had to grip your thighs, but I noticed you wincing. Does it hurt when I touch you there? Did something happen?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, hating him for the sledgehammer he was slamming against her defenses, yet loving him just a little for his desire to help her. “It’s emotional pain, not physical,” she lied.

Christ.
This was what she hated. The pathetic way she sounded made nausea pool in her stomach. She was strong. She was determined and capable and brilliant on a dance floor. This weak, needy woman was a curse on the person she’d become over her career.

His touch descended, from her waist to the top of her hip bone. Her heart shot to her throat and so did the bile rising from her belly.

“Let me help you.” His palms slid lower, brushing the top of her scar.

“Stop.” Her voice was weak, unconvincing. For the briefest moment, she wanted him to fix her, to wipe away her ugliness and let her be the mesmerizing dancer from her past.

He reached her thigh, gliding over numb flesh, the nerves severed. “You’re strong, Red.”

Bullshit
. “You don’t know me.”

She shoved his arms away and strode forward with fury in her veins. She’d made a huge mistake. He was pushing to find her secrets, almost succeeding, too. Yet, once he glimpsed the real her, stabbing her through the chest with his look of revulsion, she’d be broken beyond repair. She wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye again, which meant no more rehearsals, no more Reckless video clip, and no more chances to move her pathetic career from the stalled position in a shitty, lame-ass studio that barely held its own. “Get your things. I’m closing up.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Excuse me?” She swung around, balling the panties in her fist as she pointed her other arm in the direction of the door. “Get out.”

The narrowing of his gaze scared her the slightest bit. Worse, though, it excited her.

“No.”

She remained still as he stalked forward, his footsteps echoing through the room. “What are you going to do, sticks? Huh?” She was fueling the fire. She knew she was, and still she couldn’t help it. He was twice her size, capable of doing whatever the hell he wanted to her, yet she still couldn’t let it go. “Are you going to teach me a lesson?”

“I’m not going to teach shit,
sweetheart
.” He sneered the endearment, and fucking hell it turned her on.

“I’m just gonna stand here and wait until you kiss me.”

“Ha!” He was funny. Hilarious. Her body, on the other hand, was a feeble bitch, ready and willing to comply with his dictate. “Get out.” She jutted her chin as he brought them toe to toe.

He leaned in, his lips thin, his eyes bright. “Just as soon as you kiss me.”

“
Sean
.” It was a growl. A warning not only to him, but to herself.

“Red.” His breath brushed her lips. Hot. Delicate. Enticing. She fought not to mewl against the need to taste him. Visions of slamming her mouth against his, kissing him with force and marking his skin with her nails assailed her. He narrowed her vision so it was only the two of them. No studio. No outside world. Just Sean and her overbearing hormones.

“You can’t fix me,” she snarled. That was the issue here. He thought he could slap a Band-Aid on her problems. She was a mere princess in need of a new glass slipper. Like hell. It would take more than a few pretty words and a gentle touch to sort her out.

“Yeah, I gathered.” He quirked a brow at her. “You’ve got some messed up shit going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Her eyes widened. “
Asshole
.”

She shoved at his chest, and he caught her wrist in his unyielding grip. Her bright panties dangled from her clenched fist in a stark reminder of how brilliantly this man played her body. She panted into the space between, her breath a mix of fury and cloying lust. Then, without a care in the world, Sean leaned down, holding her gaze as he sniffed the underwear in her hand.

“Oh my god!” She gaped. “You’re disgusting.”

“And you couldn’t be more turned on.”

Fucking know-it-all, asshole.

“They smell like heaven,” he drawled, thick and heavy with seduction. “I bet the ones you’re wearing are even better.”

“You are completely unhinged.”

“And you’re practically vibrating with the need to fuck me.” He smirked, the corner of his lips lifting in an arrogant show of male perfection.

“You expect me to sleep with you in the middle of my dance studio, in front of a wall of windows that anyone in the neighborhood could be looking through?”

In a blink, he dropped his hold on her wrists and lifted her off her feet with a demanding arm around her waist. She was clutched to his chest as he strode toward the door and flicked off the light with a definitive click.

“There,” he growled. “Nobody will know we’re here. And all I can see is the gleam in your eye telling me you want to wrap your legs around me and fuck me hard.”

“I do not.” The pleasure within reach placed her on edge. She wanted to take it, to grab it in her fist and never let go. But how much of herself would be bared to his gaze? Her sight hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet. All she could see were the shadows of his face from the dim street light a few yards away from the studio windows.

She didn’t know if it was enough to expose her, and right now, she wasn’t sure if she cared. Her need for him was too hard to contain. Spending hours in and out of his embrace, his arms wrapped tight around her one minute, then his strong muscles lifting her the next, had made her mindless. She wanted a second taste of pleasure. And she wanted it now.

“Then walk, Red. Unwrap your arms from around my neck and leave. I’ll close up, and when you see me tomorrow I promise not to flirt one damn bit. I won’t push you to talk to me, and I won’t rely on you to help distract me from my own issues. We’ll be friends. Not fuck buddies or whatever the hell this could’ve been. I’ll just be a nice guy learning your dance moves, and I’ll leave straight after rehearsal.”

She lowered her hands from his neck, surprised that she’d moved them there in the first place. She didn’t want to leave, neither did she want to show her weakness and give in to him. He had her wound tight in both directions. She couldn’t walk away, couldn’t stay either. He was getting too close, wrapping the tendrils of his gorgeousness around her heart.

“Fine.” Her voice wavered. She would leave. She would walk away and give herself a firm reality check once she got home. Opening her mouth about her issues had made him curious and that was her fault. It was time to fix her mess and place some kind of barrier between his insatiable desire and her willingness to succumb.

She swallowed over the tightness in her throat and turned to leave. Time passed in the hard thumping of her heart.
One, two, thr—
. She was yanked back by her hand and slammed into his chest.

“God, you’re stubborn,” he muttered, then smashed his mouth over hers.

Euphoria took over her body, every limb, every blood vessel. Her knees grew weak as she kissed him back. Hard. Fast. Vicious strokes of tongue and teeth and lips. Never before had she needed a man. Never had her head and heart throbbed in unison for the demand of something. Someone.

She climbed him, wrapping first one leg, then the other around his waist and pulling herself up with a tight grip around his neck. They moved. She didn’t know where, but in the next moment her back was thrust against a wall, and his greedy hands were on the waistband of her pants.

“I need you,” he murmured in her mouth. “Every day for the last week, I’ve needed you.”

She whimpered, cupping his cheeks, kissing him harder than she’d ever kissed. She was his distraction. Nothing more. And she supposed he was her distraction, too. Pretending to be perfect once again wasn’t hard when he stared at her with hunger in his eyes.

He tried to yank down her pants, wrenching them from her ass downward.

“Wait.” This wasn’t like his bedroom. Her studio was wide open. Leaving her in a vulnerable position. “Take me from behind.”

That way, her pants only needed to be lowered beneath her ass cheeks. She placed her feet on the ground and turned, rubbing herself against the hardness of his crotch as she went. As if he knew the reason for the change, Sean grabbed the waistband of her pants and thong and lowered them slightly, leaving the elastic to rest at mid-thigh.

The tightness around her scar was a constant reminder of the role she played. He thought he was fucking someone beautiful. Someone flawless and perfect. If only he knew.

“Take your top off. I want to feel you.”

That,
she could do. She reached a hand behind her, unclasping her black sports bra, and yanked her tank over her head, letting them both fall to the floor. His hands were over her in an instant—on her waist, over her belly, cupping her breasts. He nibbled at her neck, making her skin shiver.

She became lost in the gyration of her hips, in the rough touch of his palm sliding over her skin. One hand left her body, and the subsequent grind as he lowered his zipper had her clenching her pussy in anticipation. A crinkle of a wrapper flittered into her wavering consciousness, then a tear, followed by a quick burst of air as a part of the wrapper sailed through her periphery.

He’d come prepared for sex.

That may have offended other women. Not her. Knowing Sean wanted her enough to plan ahead was complimentary in her mind. He continued to place kisses along her neck and shoulder as the hard jerks of his fist rubbed against her ass.

“Bend over.”

Non-compliance wasn’t an option. She leaned forward, placing her hands on the wooden bench seat. He gave no warning, merely rubbed the head of his shaft along her slit to her opening, before slamming home. She moaned through the mix of bliss and the sharp assault of being full to the point of pleasured pain.

“God,” he grated. “You’re even better than I remember.”

She smiled into the darkness, rocking her hips against him, moving to his rhythm and ignoring the pull of elastic against her mutilated flesh.

He ran a hand along her spine, from her tailbone to her neck. “Such a stubborn little pixie.”

“Such a pushy thug of a man.”

He chuckled, reaching his hand around her throat and pulling her up slowly. He leaned into her back, hovering over her as his teeth scoured the tingling flesh where her shoulder and neck met. Every part of her awakened with sensation. Her body, her soul, and most importantly, her mind. Sean gave her back a piece of the person she’d once been. While he slid into her, working her closer to release, clutching her neck in a vise like grip, she became herself again. No judgments or scars. Her bitterness vanished, her vanity, too. She was beautiful again. He
made
her feel beautiful again.

With the hunger of too many nights spent alone, she worked her body against his, grinding her ass, unable to hold in a cry with each of his thrusts. His hand never stopped learning her body. He kept her in place with his grip on her neck, but the other hand cherished her, roaming the sides of her breast, over the smoothness of her belly, and retreating to run leisurely down her spine.

With the hours of stimulation already playing havoc on her control, she forced herself to concentrate. His roving palm slid over her abdomen, and lower to her clit, and she stretched onto her tippy toes to fight the building tightness in her sex.

“You’re going to make me come.”

“Good,” he growled. “Maybe I can get you there twice.”

She shook her head.
No
. She didn’t want to be alone again. As stupid as it sounded, she wanted to share this moment with him. All her life she’d been an extrovert, gaining energy from interaction with others. Turning into an introvert because of the accident was slowly killing her. She needed the connection, to feel him hitting the height of pleasure at the same time as her.

Melody bent lower, resting her head on the wooden bench. With a wicked grin on her lips, she ran a hand between her legs, brushing her grip across the smoothness of his balls.