Our bed.

Dimitri’s words stayed with Natasha the rest of the day, even as she tried to take his advice. She watched TV—while looking at apartments. She tried to nap—in their bed—but couldn’t get the day’s events out of her mind.

From the way he’d charmed the children at Little Lilac to his response at finding out she’d worked as a topless dancer, Dimitri was surprising her left and right.

And then, to find out he’d been with other women because he thought she hadn’t cared? Eye-opening. Was it possible he’d held back all this time for the same reasons she had? Maybe he hadn’t trusted in her affections.

Or maybe he was just making excuses. But now that she’d spent so much time around him, it didn’t fit with his behavior. To get her mind off everything, she closed the rental websites and pulled up her video files to work on the piece she was choreographing.

As she watched herself move on screen and jotted her thoughts in a notebook, she had a hard time tapping into the emotions that had led her to choreograph this piece. The haunting melody and lyrics, describing a modern love that had been betrayed, no longer compelled her to move.

You burned me, the singer crooned in her smoky voice. You burned me down.

When she’d chosen this song, she’d identified with the lyrics. She felt empty and hollowed out like the husk of a house after a fire. Natasha didn’t feel burned anymore. She felt . . . seen.

Dimitri saw her. He understood. She’d told him things she’d never told anyone, not even Gina—about her time at Babe Planet, or how she’d lied about getting accepted at Lennox—and he hadn’t seen her any differently.

Hell, the man said he loved her. Nothing she knew of Dimitri indicated that he was someone who threw that word around. It had certainly never come up any of the other times they’d been together, although those times were usually all about the screwing, and he’d said the L word while yelling at her.

Besides, he’d seemed just as surprised by the admission as she was.

Still, trust didn’t come easy. Telling Dimitri her secrets left her emotions muddled and raw, like an exposed wound. Those months had been her most desperate, and here she was, back in a similar situation: broke and doing something she knew wasn’t good for her. The longer she stayed here, the more she was tempted to believe that they could . . .

She shut down that line of thinking before she could dream too big or too bold. Survival came first. Dreaming was for people in far more stable situations than she was in.

She pulled up her music library and skipped through songs, looking for something that fit how she felt now.

An hour and many notebook pages later, she hit on something. It had more of a pop beat, but it was undercut by dramatic violins. I am a masterpiece, the singer repeated throughout the song. You ain’t seen nothing yet. Just watch me fly.

Natasha listened, jotting down the lyrics, which gave her chills. This was the song. From burned to fly, it was a phoenix story. She could adapt the existing choreography to tell a story of triumph, of personal faith and trust.

Flexing the toes of her right foot, she was tempted to jump up and move. Her best choreography ideas came to her this way, inspired by feeling and a song that hit all the right emotional notes. The dance came through her like a download. It was happening now, but she couldn’t dance.

Well, no. That wasn’t entirely true. She couldn’t put weight on her right ankle. There was a difference.

It took some back and forth, but she got her laptop, speakers, and camera set up in Dimitri’s studio. In addition to those, she dragged in the desk chair from his office. She cast a worried glance at the shiny floor, but something told her he wouldn’t care. Once everything was ready to go, she sat in the chair and propped her crutches against the barre. Keeping her phone in her lap to control the music, she started the camera and the music and rolled into the center of the room.

When Dimitri appeared in the doorway a while later, she wasn’t even surprised.

She stopped spinning in the chair and turned off the music. “Hi.”

A small smile played on his lips, and his eyes were full of . . . something. Affection, maybe. “Hi.”

She rolled back over to her equipment and turned off the camera. “I took your chair,” she said.

“So I see.” He walked into the room, hands in pockets.

She entered a few commands on her laptop to get the video import started. “Sorry. I said I wouldn’t go in your office.”

His brows drew together like he was annoyed. “And I said it was fine. You’re allowed anywhere in this house.”

He came closer, and she bit her lip, focusing on the laptop screen. She’d just been naked with this man in broad daylight. It was ridiculous to feel nervous. He wasn’t even doing anything. He was walking toward her, fully dressed.

But she was starting to believe he might be telling the truth about his feelings. And it was a dangerous thing for someone who’d never thought she’d ever have something like what he offered.

Hope. That was it. That was the thing fluttering in her chest like a bird trying to fight free from a cage.

Accurate. She’d kept that emotion locked away for a long damn time.

He stood over her, looking at her setup. “I’d ask what you’re doing, but it’s obvious. Trying to dance without using your feet?”

“Just the one foot.” She lifted the right, still wrapped. “I can use my left just fine.”

To prove it, she dug into the floor with her bare left foot and sent the chair spinning in a circle.

He grabbed the armrests, bringing it to a stop, and leaned down, putting his face close to hers. Natasha swallowed. He still wore that unreadable smile, and his chocolate brown eyes had grown even more intense in their focus on her.

“Tasha.”

“Uh-huh.” Her pulse pounded in her throat. Madre de dios, he was so handsome. So intense. Her skin itched to be touched by him, to feel his strong hands skimming over her. His hot mouth, the rasp of his beard, his tongue . . .

“You asked if I was jealous.” His voice was rough, grating, like it hurt him to speak. “Yes, damn it, I was jealous.”

She sucked in a breath. Dios, what did she say to that? But he wasn’t done.

“I was jealous every time I saw you smiling at another man, knowing he was getting close to you, fearing you were letting him closer than you let me.”

Her mind flashed to all the times she’d flirted with other men while Dimitri was around. Rocky Lim, Jackson García, at least a handful of others. Yes, she’d wanted to inspire jealousy in him, to get him as twisted up inside as she felt. But she’d never known it had worked.

His eyes bored into her, and the smile was gone from his lips, now set in a stern line. “It killed me every time I had to walk away from you, which is why I always came crawling back. I don’t intend to leave again. So, you can have my desk chair. You can have my studio and my pool and my bed and anything you want that’s in my power to give you. Got it?” She nodded, struggling to breathe.

“Good.” He gave her a searing kiss, then leaned back. “Let’s get you ready for our date.”

“Date?” She let out a nervous giggle to cover how much his words had affected her. “That’s a first.”

He frowned, and paused in gathering her equipment. “Haven’t we been on a date?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He cheeks grew hot. “You’ve never asked me.”

Eyebrows drawn together, he put the laptop back on the stool she was using as a table and took her hand. “I’m asking now. Natasha Díaz, will you go out on a date with me tonight?”

She pressed her lips together because she wanted to grin, and she wanted to accept. Still, there were other things to consider. “You know we can’t date. If anyone sees us, I’ll get fired.”

He shrugged. “Too bad, because I’m really good at the goodnight kiss.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I know. But don’t forget my rule.”

His gaze heated. “We’ve already broken it. And I have a good date in mind.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“I thought we’d go see some naked women, then eat a meal I don’t have to pay for.”

She swatted him in the arm, laughing. “No wonder we’ve never been on a date before. You’re terrible at it.”

He shrugged, and grinned. “Don’t worry, I’m really good at the goodnight kiss.”

She snorted. “I think we’ve blown way past goodnight kisses.”

His smile was full of dark desires. “You’ll see.”

A thrill raced through her. Despite her trepidation, she couldn’t wait to go out with him. Okay, so they still weren’t going off to do things most couples did, especially on a first date, but they’d never gone out alone together like this. And truth be told, she was curious about the restaurant.

But a little voice in the back of her mind refused to be silent. Bad idea, it warned. You’ll get caught. And then what? You think he’ll stand by you? You’ll never be good enough for him.

It was an echo of the phrase that had haunted her for her whole life. You’ll never be good enough.

No. Inner doubt be damned. Donna and The Dance Off be damned. She was going on a date with Dimitri, and fuck anyone or anything who tried to get in her way.