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“Nikita, did something happen?”
The sound of her name breaks her from her trance. She shakes her head profusely, forces a smile. “Nothing happened. I just practiced a little too hard. It’s been a long day and I think I need a break.”
“Fair. Do you need help stretching?”
She giggles. “Are you volunteering?”
“Depends on your answer.”
Nikita sets her bouquet of flowers next to her gym bag. I notice a small, crumpled up piece of paper sticking out of the corner. Curious, I bend down and pick it up before she has a chance to protest. What I see greatly disturbs me.
“Who wrote this?” I ask, trying to keep my voice level and my rage in check. “Is someone threatening you?”
“It was a joke,” she says. I don’t believe her. Nikita takes the note back and squeezes it tight in her fist before tossing it away into a trash bin near the door.
“I’m not well-versed in comedy, but that doesn’t look like a joke.”
“It’s nothing, Leo. Come on, come help me stretch.”
I want to press the issue. I never did find out what happened with the saboteur. If there’s even a chance they could be going after Nikita, I want to take matters into my own hands. What if they take things too far? One day, it’s threatening notes. The next day, someone’s taking a bat to her knee to take her out of the running. Even though it’s all hypothetical scenarios made up in my head, they nonetheless make my blood boil and my heart pound. I can’t stand the thought of Nikita getting hurt.
The moment she takes my hand, all my stress suddenly melts away. Nikita guides me to the barre and places my palm over the wood railing.
“You could use a stretch, too,” she says, teasing. “You’re all bunched up in the shoulders. Here, do as I do.”
“I didn’t realize I’d be joining the class. Not exactly dressed for it.”
“Take your coat off and stay awhile,” she says easily before hinging at the hips and exposing her tight little ass through her light pink tights. I have a sneaking suspicion she is doing this on purpose, because within an instant, my mind goes blank and I can no longer focus on anything but her long legs and supple behind.
I step forward, crowding behind her, hands on either side of her hips as a low moan escapes me.
“You look pretty in pink,” I mutter.
“You’re not stretching, Leo.”
“No, I most certainly am not.”
Nikita rises, pressing her back against my chest. I watch her in the reflection of the mirror, engrossed by our size difference. I like how much shorter she is, how much smaller. I could wrap her in my arms for days, keep her safe in my embrace.
Unable to help myself, I dip down and kiss her shoulder. Once, twice, working my way up to the crook of her neck. She sighs contentedly, reaching up with one hand to comb her fingers through my hair and caress my cheek.
“You reallyarea bad influence,” she mumbles, giggling to herself.
“We’re the only ones here, right?” I ask her, a sudden hunger latching on to my hind-brain. I want her. Ineedher.
Her cheeks turn a bright pink. “Here?”
“Not if you don’t want to.” Except I really,reallyhope she wants to. I don’t think I can survive the trip back to my place, the wait too excruciating to bear.
Nikita licks her lips, her eyes full of lust. “Go on, then. Show me exactly what you want to do.”
My hands have a mind of their own, reaching up to cover her breasts and give her nipples a light pinch. I bury my nose in her hair, breathing her in. I’m an addict, unable to get my fix. All I know is I need more.
“Are you particularly fond of these tights?” I ask her.
“No, why do you as—”
Before she even has a chance to finish, I reach down, press her shoulders forward so she bends, and grab a fistful of the delicate fabric, tearing it apart in one swift motion. The sound of the rip is delicious, enticing, as is her soft, delighted gasp. I’m already rock hard and aching to have her, but like always, I want to make sure her pleasure comes before mine.
