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“Then don’t expect the same consideration, Pen. We can’t dance together. There’s nothing more to say than that.”
He watches me for a moment, and I take my fill of him. His chest is covered in a sheen of sweat just like Tiffany had said, highlighting his tattoos, darkening them. Dax is a beautiful man, quietly powerful, and when he dances… God, he’s exquisite. It’s little wonder all the girls want to get into his pants.
“Why?” I ask, hating the croak in my voice. Hating the vulnerability I can’t seem to hide. I realise I have no right to feel this upset because as angry as I am, Tiffany was correct, I didn’t want to dance with him. Except now that he’s taken the decision out of my hands, I fucking hate the idea of him dancing with that bitch, withanyoneelse. Of all the four Breakers, dancing with Dax was like coming home.
Hewas my home.
“Does it matter?” He starts to stretch, pulling his arms up above his head so that the muscles on his chest and arms tighten then release as he drops them.
“It matters to me.”
“Why? You didn’t want to dance with me, Pen. You made that perfectly clear when we were paired up. Has that changed?” He pierces me with his eyes and the way he holds my gaze has my skin prickling with goosebumps. “Well?”
I look away, not able to tell him how I really feel. Idowant to dance with him, so fucking much, but I’m too fucking proud, too fucked-up, too confused, too shit-scared to tell him how I feel.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he says, misinterpreting my reaction. He walks over to where his stuff is sitting on the table and grabs hold of his mobile phone. When I don’t leave, he glances over his shoulder at me. “Haven’t you got somewhere to be?”
“No, actually, I haven’t.”
He nods, turning away from me and I take a seat on the bench that lines the wall, watching him as he puts on a t-shirt, the material pulling taut across his broad shoulders and back.
“Dax…”
“Yes, Pen?” His eyes meet mine in the reflection of the mirror.
“Why did you protect me from Malik Brov?”
He stiffens, his jaw clenching before he turns around slowly to face me. “Why did you save me from getting a bullet in the head?” he counters.
We stare at each other for long moments, long past the point of it being comfortable. The truth is right there hanging in the air between us. Just one word that has both the power to bind people together and the power to rip them apart.
Love.
He waits. I falter.
Laughter shatters the tension in the air, preventing the truth from spilling from my lips. I swallow it down painfully and turn to find a group of kids walking into the studio, they can’t be any more than thirteen or fourteen years old, and gather in the doorway nervously.
“You’reour dance teacher?” a cheeky-looking boy with a flop of auburn hair asks, giving Dax a once-over. He has his arm casually slung over a girl’s shoulder. Her large brown eyes widen as she takes Dax in. I notice a flicker of fear in her gaze.
“Looks that way.”
The boy grins. “This is my girl, Olivia.”
“Nice to meet you Olivia,” Dax says. He glances over at me and I realise my mouth is hanging open in shock. I slam it shut. He’s teaching kids how to dance. I’m stunned.
“And what should I call the rest of you?” Dax asks, waving them into the room.
“I’m Justin,” the same boy with the cheeky smile says, introducing himself. His auburn hair falls into his eyes as he speaks. “This is Rafe, Tam, and his little brother, Sidney.”
They all give Dax a nod of the head. I feel their wariness, but can sense their excitement too.
“Nice to meet you all. Shall we get started then?” Dax asks.
They enter the room and Justin—who I’m beginning to understand might be the leader of this little crew—clocks me gawping at them.
“Who’s she?” he asks, jerking his chin towards me.
“That’s Pen and she was just leaving,” Dax says, fixing me with his stare.
