The Dance (47 page)

“Turn around.”

I hesitated. I’d come here wanting and needing some definitive clarity and as soon as I was near him my brain went fuzzy and my body took over. I didn’t want to look away but I did because I’d do anything for him.

His hands stayed glued to my skin as I turned, facing away. My dress was lifted up to my hips. Thank god I had on my cute black and white polka-dotted bikini panties. My body jerked forward at the feel of Hart’s lips on the small of my back. With a firm grip on my hips, he concentrated his licks and hot kisses in that one area, at times dipping down and nipping at the top of my ass.

“Fuck, Bryson, your ass is a work of art.” His voice was low and husky.

“Hart,” I moaned as he pushed my dress high and placed feather-light kisses up my spine.

“I’ve seen a lot of asses over the years. None of them come close to yours. You’re perfect.”

With every look, every kiss, and every touch I knew Hart loved me. I also knew my heart wasn’t able to continue our arrangement as it stood.

Tearing myself from his grasp, I stepped away and spun around to face him. Shock and disappointment covered his entire face.

I looked him straight in the eye. “Have you seen any other asses lately?”

In real time Hart’s silence probably lasted only a few seconds but it was long enough for it to wrap around my throat and choke me. Just as his mouth opened to speak, his phone rang on the coffee table. My gaze landed as the screen lit up. I went numb. My eyes stayed glued to the name filling the screen. The ring kept getting louder, echoing in my ears as I watched Hart grab the phone. His gaze remained zeroed in on mine as he placed the phone to his ear.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah? No. I’m sure.” His words were clipped and angry.

Hart clicked off the phone and put it back on the table. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it, lying lifeless on the dark wood.

“Bryson . . .”

I told myself not to look at him. If I did, I’d fall apart. And I couldn’t fall apart.

“You’re still seeing her?” My words sounded weak and robotic.

He took in a sharp breath and blew it out. “I don’t see anyone. You know that.”

I whipped my head in his direction and forced my voice not to crack. “I’m sorry. Let me rephrase. “Are you still fucking her?” I bit down on my trembling bottom lip. “Please, tell me you’re not, even if it’s a lie.”

Hart’s knuckles turned white from the vice grip he had on the hand rim of the large side wheels. His neck muscles pressed hard against his skin as he clenched his jaw. Love and detachment struggled to gain control in his eyes.

“I haven’t been with anyone since you and I started . . . Bryson, you knew what this was from the very beginning.”

My relief was short-lived as a tremor rumbled through my body while I pushed down another sob. “I knew what we said but . . .”

He abruptly spun his chair away from me and growled. “Fuck! I knew this was a bad idea.”

“
Us
is not a bad idea.”

Hart circled back to face me. “There is no us.” His teeth clenched. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle this arrangement.”

“Neither can you!”

With each deep breath his nostrils flared. “What do you want from me, Bryson?”

“The truth!”

“The only reason I started fucking you was because you said that’s all you wanted.”

I cringed at his crudeness. “What’s happened between us is more than that and you know it.”

Hart glanced away for a brief moment searching for his next words. The tip of his tongue darted out and slid over his bottom lip. When he turned back to me his eyes were ice cold.

“Don’t mistake a great fuck for feelings,” he said flatly.

The words cut right through me. I wasn’t sure at this point if I was the dumbest person in the world or the most pathetic. My brain screamed to get the hell out of there but my heart wouldn’t let my legs move.

“You’re full of shit. You come off as this confident, self-assured man who’s in control of every aspect of his life. But you can’t control who you fall in love with, Hart. From day one there was a spark. I felt it. You felt it. Hell, even Sophie felt it when she saw us dancing ten years ago and again at the basketball game. You don’t think I notice whenever I’m around, your eyes light up, your shoulders push back, your chest puffs out, and you sit up taller? When you look into my eyes, kiss my lips, or touch my body you reach my soul. And you can deny it all you want but I know with every fiber of my being that I’ve reached your soul too. You may be too much of a pussy to admit your true feelings for me but don’t you dare reduce our time together to just a great fuck.”

It took every ounce of strength I had not to collapse to the floor. I was shocked and impressed that I stood my ground and that those words came out of me instead of tears. I was not going to let another man demean me or my feelings ever again.

“Are you done?”

I nodded. “For the moment.”

My eyes could have been playing tricks on me but I thought the right corner of his mouth twitched with the hint of a grin.

“You want the truth? If I could go back to that fucking prom with a different life, I would have never stopped dancing with you.” He blew out several shallow breaths. “That first day I saw you at the pool it was as if someone cracked open my chest and I could finally breathe. I hoped you had turned into a bitch since school. But then you opened your mouth and rattled on and on. I knew right then I was fucked and needed to stay away from you. When I found out you were married I relaxed because you were officially off limits. So I figured it was safe. But each time I laid eyes on you I wanted more. Then I found out about the divorce and my safety net completely unraveled.” Pausing, his unblinking eyes turned dark gray. “Between my mom’s illness and school, I couldn’t . . . . You didn’t fit into my life back then, Bryson.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and pushed out the words. “I know and it’s okay. I understand.”

The rise and fall of Hart’s chest was steady and deep as he stared at me. His eyes still had the same conflict as earlier along with something I’d never seen before in him . . . regret.

His grip tightened around the wheel as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down several times. “And I don’t fit into your life now.”

“How can you say that? Everything about us fits together perfectly.”

“Why does everyone else see this fucking chair except you?” There was the hint of a quiver in his voice.

Taking a deep breath, I swallowed another sob. “Because I’ve been too busy falling in love with the man sitting in it.”

“Spinal cord injuries take ten years off of life expectancy.”

My gaze locked with his as I took one step toward him.

“I have a specific time each day when I go to the bathroom to manually empty my bowel and bladder.”

I took another step toward him.

“I’m at a higher risk for blood clots.”

Another step.

“The chances of me fathering a child are slim.”

Standing directly in front of him, I said, “I know what you’re trying to do. But none of that stuff scares me. I still see the strong, intelligent, virile, confident, kind man I love.”

I couldn’t stand not touching him any longer. Before Hart could respond, I quickly climbed into his lap, wrapped my arms around his neck, and rested my forehead against his. Keeping his hands to the side, his body stiffened.

“You are so lovely, Bryson. You deserved better than Will . . . you deserve better than me.” The last few words came out as a whisper.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.” Linking my fingers together behind his neck, I pulled Hart’s lips to mine and placed a soft kiss. “I know you don’t love Yodels because you hate chocolate.” Another soft kiss. “I’m going to stay in your way and drive you crazy until you let me love you.” Another soft kiss, only this time our lips remained together. “You’re not getting rid of me, Hart. Deal with it.”

His eyes closed for . . .

One Mississippi.

Two Mississippi.

Three Mississip . . .

His left arm snaked around my waist as his right hand traveled up my thigh. Hart opened his eyes a split second before pressing his lips to mine. The rhythm of the kiss was slow and methodical, his tongue moving deeper into my mouth with each swirl around mine. It was a kiss making up for each year we missed being together. It was a kiss taking all the pain away.

Hart broke from my lips, both of us gasping for air. “I love you, Bryson.”

It was a kiss welcoming Hart home.

“Hey! That tickles!” I yelled, giggling as my back lurched off the bed.

His fingers wrapped around my ankles, holding my legs in place. “Keep still.” Looking up, his golden brows pushed into his forehead at the same time a devilish grin appeared. “God, you’re still so wet. Maybe, if I blow on it . . .”

Hart was leaning against the headboard, shirtless and in black sweat pants. I was stretched out across the bed wearing one of his white T-shirts. The acoustic version of “Latch” by Boyce Avenue swirled in the air. With my feet resting just below his smooth chest, Hart swept the deep dark red polish over my nails.

Lifting up on my elbows, I eyed his handiwork, wiggling my second toe. “I think you put a little too much polish on that one.”

“Bryson, please, my mother was a painter. Artistic talent oozes from every pore of my body.”

Intently focused on the task at hand, he paid meticulous attention to each brush stroke. Hart looked hot doing pretty much anything but this was definitely a contender for the top five.

A shiver ran through my body as I flopped back onto the bed. “I stand corrected, Rembrandt.”

A stream of warm breath drifted over the top of my foot, causing me to squirm a little. I had dreamed, wished, and prayed about the moment when Hart admitted he loved me. But the dream didn’t hold a candle to the real thing. Now that I had a frame of reference for what a true connection and being in love with someone really felt like, there was no turning back. Hart Mitchell had set the gold standard that no other man would ever be able to achieve.

My gaze drifted up to the large painting hanging above the bed. I’d stared at it several times before, always getting lost in the beautiful blend of blues, greens, oranges, and yellows. I still wasn’t able to shake the feeling that I’d seen it or something similar to it.

“All done,” he said, placing the bottle of nail polish on the nightstand.

I lifted my feet straight up in the air, checking the final product. “They look gorgeous. Thank you, Remy.”

Hart grasped both ankles, pulling my legs down toward his chest, causing my head to pop up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He planted my feet back on his chest. “These babies have to dry completely before you start moving around or you’ll ruin my masterpiece.”

I relaxed back onto the bed. “Yes, Master.”

“Say that again.”

“Yes, Master?”

“It’s got a nice ring to it. We should try it on for size next time I have you service me.”

Without raising my head, I grabbed one of the pillows beside me and chucked it at him.

“Hey! Watch the nails!” He laughed.

“I’ll Master you only if you Mistress me.”

“I could get into that.” I heard the smile in his voice.

We were quiet for several minutes enjoying the music and being together. My eyes closed while strong hands massaged up, down, and all around my calves and feet.

“Mmm . . . that feels amazing.”

“Glad it meets with your approval, Mistress.”

“It
does
have a nice ring to it.”

Hart’s thumb mindlessly glided back and forth over my ankle as a deep chuckle vibrated from his chest followed by more silence. Just as I was on the verge drifting into an unexpected nap something cold and wet pressed against my arm. Squealing, my eyes shot open as I bolted into a sitting position and tried to yank my feet free. But Hart wouldn’t let them budge.

With his head rested back and eyes closed, he said, “Butter, I told you no one wants your toys.”