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After all these years, I thought my feelings for Nate would have subsided. I promised myself a long time ago that if I ever ran into Nate Winthrop again, I’d give him a piece of my mind.
But I couldn’t. It was just him and me in that little exam room, and I could have let loose and called him out and given him what he deserved. But I just couldn’t.
I was too transfixed with his heated gaze. There’s no use pretending. I know Nate wants me. There was something feral in his eyes, hungry for more. And deep down, I feel the exact same way.
Don’t even think about it.
It’d just be a waste of time.
Miss Helen claps her hand and address the whole room. “Focus on your form, please.”
Yeah, Eve. Focus on your form.
First position, second position, third position.
Missionary, doggy style, reverse cowgirl.
The muscles in my calves seize painfully. I wobble on my toes, lose my balance. My legs buckle out from beneath me.
All it takes is a second.
I blink and find myself on the cold floor, dazed and biting through the searing pain that radiates up from my knees to my hips.
“Goodness,” gasps Miss Helen as she rushes over. The class master crouches down to check me over. “Are you all right, darling? What happened?”
“I-I’m all right.”
Miss Helen sighs, shooting me a disappointed look. “I want you to see the doctor again, darling. This is getting too serious.”
“I swear I’m fine. I can keep going.”
“What if we’d been doing jumps? The impact of the fall could have broken your foot.”
“But I—”
Miss Helen beckons to one of the male dancers. He’s barely eighteen, but he’s built with a sturdy frame. He’s got a bit of a bowl cut going on, but nobody in class has the heart to tell him it doesn’t look very good. He’s wide-eyed and fresh-faced, possibly one of Miss Helen’s best students—with the exception of myself, of course. His form is sometimes a little off, and he doesn’t have as much stamina as some of the older dancers, but I chalk it up to his youth and inexperience.
“Tom,” she says, “will you please help take Eve to see Dr. Winthrop?”
“That’s really not necessary,” I protest.
Tom breaks out into a big, cheerful smile. “I’d be happy to help.”
Before I can get another word out, Tom’s lifting me up off the ground in his arms. I shouldn’t be surprised how easy he makes it look. Dancers are every bit athlete as they are artist, and the same can be said about Tom.
He’s strong and sturdy, muscular arms and legs flexing has he carries me. I just wish he didn’t carry me bridal-style like this in front of the rest of the class.
Is it possible to die of embarrassment?
Call 911 because we’re about to have a situation.
“You really don’t have to do this,” I tell him. We’re already halfway down the hall at this point. “I can walk the rest of the way.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? You could barely stand.”
“I’m sure, I’m sure. Please let me down. I don’t—”
“Just take it easy, Eve. I don’t want to accidently drop you.”
“I’m not struggling. I just—”
The door to the rehabilitation office swings open. I look up to find Nate standing there, his lips in a tight line as his eyebrows knit together. He eyes Tom with suspicion before reaching out to pick me out of Tom’s arms.
What is this?
A game of hot potato?
I don’t want to be a potato.
“Please put me down, Nate.” I try my best to ignore the heat pooling in my cheeks.
“I can take it from here,” he tells Tom tersely, turning away quickly as he carries me into the exam room.
I don’t get the chance to say anything before the door slams shut and I find myself back in the same tiny exam room.
The air feels heavy and warm against my skin, the scent of Nate’s rich cologne lingering around me. I admire the hardness of his chest, the hard lines of his muscles. It’s difficult not to notice just how strong and commanding he is.
Nate places me down on the examination table.
He looks a little pissed, but I don’t know why.
“I told you to take it easy,” he grumbles.
There’s something stupidly sexy about how low his voice is right now.
“It’s just a cramp,” I dismiss, slipping off of the table.
It’s a huge mistake.
The second my big toe touches the floor, a shooting pain spikes through the front of my shin. It’s so sharp and sudden that it knocks the air right out of my lungs. I lose my balance immediately and fall forward.
Luckily, Nate catches me, grabbing both my shoulders to keep me steady.
“Sit down,” he orders.
I have no choice but to comply. I don’t want to risk making things worse.
Just endure it, Eve.
