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By the time Irene Cara reached the crescendo, Cassie was breathless. Her body was flushed, and her muscles were loose. She had music, she had rhythm, as she arched her back one final time and dropped to the floor.
And that’s when she saw Presley.
Standing at the doorway, his eyes dark, his jaw tight. Irene’s voice faded away and there was silence in the room, save for the sound of her rapid breaths and the pulse of blood rushing through her ears.
Presley was wearing a pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt, his hair falling over his face in the way it always did. She noticed one of his hands was curled around the door jamb, his knuckles bleached white.
And the way he was staring at her made her body want to throb.
She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. Just another breath. One that was full of need.
And as though he could hear it, he let go of the doorway and stalked toward her, his lips saying nothing.
But his eyes said everything.
He held his hand out to her. She took it and he pulled her up. She’d barely gotten to her feet before she was pulled against him, her body flush against his.
She could feel the hardness of his body…
And other parts.
He tipped her chin up until their eyes locked. She ran the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip and his eyes narrowed.
“How long were you watching?” she asked.
“Long enough.” His palm pressed against the dip of her spine. She could feel the heat of it through the thin fabric of her leotard.
“I didn’t know you were there,” she murmured.
“I know. You dance like a fucking angel. You’re beautiful.”
Weird how she felt beautiful, too, in his arms. Even if she was a little sweaty and overly worked up. But she could see his reaction to her. Could feel it.
It sent a pulse of need straight between her legs.
“Are you going to kiss me again?” she asked him.
“Do you want me to?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes. It’s all I can think about.”
He didn’t need asking twice. It was like a dam breaking as his lips took hers, the need and the ache and the desperation pouring into that single kiss. His hands were all over her, tracing the curve of her sides, her hips, her ass. He pressed his fingers into her soft flesh, their tongues clashing, and she moaned against his mouth.
His hand moved between her thighs, and memories of last night flooded her thoughts as his fingers touched her there. God, this man knew how to make her feel good. And then she was in his arms and he was walking over to the piano, his mouth never releasing hers. And when he sat on the stool, he brought her with him, until she was straddling his body.
Feeling the thick ridge of him between her thighs.
“I want you,” she told him.
“I want you too,” he whispered against her mouth. “So damn much.”
His hands were touching her face, her chest, her breasts. Her nipples peaked obscenely through the fabric. He leaned down to capture one in his mouth, dampening the cloth of her leotard, making her arch her back.
The only reason she didn’t fall was because he had a hold on her. Still steadying her back, keeping her safe. He sucked and scraped and she ran her fingers through his hair.
“We need to stop,” he murmured. “Before I take you here and now.”
“There’s nobody here.”
