With a fluttery stomach and adrenaline-charged blood, I show up at the casino the next afternoon. An hour before my shift. I’m so excited to dance on that stage I can’t sit still, can’t breathe, can’t think straight. More than that, I’m twisted inside out at the prospect of seeing Trace.
The dressing room is exactly how I left it. Other than the cleaning crew’s routine vacuuming and dusting, it hasn’t been disturbed in over a year. Costumes, makeup, glitter, hair products—everything is exactly where I left it.
Dressed to dance and buzzing with jitters, I walk into Bissara an hour later. The restaurant staff isn’t surprised to see me. They must’ve been notified of my employment. Familiar faces. New faces. Everyone is eager to have a dancer on the stage again.
Trace isn’t here, but cameras peer down from tiny black globes amid the mosaic art work on the ceiling. Maybe he’s watching.
I cue up my set list on the sound system, flip on the stage lights, and climb atop the eight-foot-wide circular platform. Half the tables in the restaurant sit empty, but they’ll fill up by dinnertime. Those who are already seated stare at me expectantly.
Standing at the center of the stage, I wait for the tempo of Whenever, Wherever by Shakira to build. Then I move. Abs, ribcage, hips—the energy gathers in my core and ripples outward to my head and limbs. God, I missed this.
A silver lace half-circle skirt hangs low on my hips, with extra draped panels attached to a mini underskirt. Crystals, beaded appliques, and fringe on the matching bra shimmy and sparkle with my movements.
I love all forms of dance, but belly dance is the core of my passion. I shake and sway for the next two hours, scanning the growing crowd for the one who holds my future captive.
When his towering shadow finally emerges in the entrance, my hips falter and my breath stutters. Those trance-inducing eyes narrow on me to the exclusion of all else, but his hand… His hand rests on the lower back of the black-haired woman from last night.
Jealousy hits me like a vicious slap across the face. I can’t hear the music over the ringing in my ears.
This is what it feels like—the helplessness, the agony of watching someone I love with another person. To think he endured this every time he saw me with Cole.
He guides the woman to the table closest to the stage, and they settle in, side by side, watching me dance as the server takes their orders. His date doesn’t even glance at the menu.
She must come here often.
With him.
Bringing her here while I’m dancing, putting her right in front of my face… He’s punishing me. Except that’s not his style. His discipline comes in the form of a red ass, not a cruel revenge game.
Something feels off, and dammit, it’s hard to dance with the force of his cryptic gaze pressing against my senses. As the song ends, I steel my spine. I’m not backing down. As much as I want to run out of the restaurant, I’m going to continue to dance. If he wants to crush me, he’ll have to try harder.
The next song begins, and I meet his compelling eyes.
He lifts a hand and curls a finger, beckoning me to the table.
I obey instantly, my windpipe caught in a stranglehold. Sliding off the stage, closing the distance, I don’t look away from those eyes.
Beneath the stuffy suit and tie is a happily ever after. Behind the neat row of buttons is the heart that beats in sync with mine. The expensive threads hide my territory, where all my thoughts lie, where my future awaits.
Palms sweaty, I take the empty seat across from them.
“Hi, Danni.” The woman gives me an easy smile and extends a hand across the table. “I’m Alexis.”
I wipe my damp palm on my costume and clasp her fingers. Strong grip, toned arms, intelligent green eyes… I hate her already.
Anger rises in a hot wave, but I keep my tone quiet. “Are you fucking him?”
Her eyes widen. “I beg your pardon?”
“Answer the question.” Good lord, I sound like Trace.
“Danni.” He leans toward me, his scowl threatening in its intensity. “Put the claws away.” His gaze shifts to the woman at his side and softens. “Alexis is your boss.”
Blood drains from my face, my voice a reedy whisper. “What?”
“I’m the new CEO of The Regal Arch Casino and Hotel.” She folds her hands together on the table and tilts her head. “And no, I’m not fucking the owner.”
“I’m sorry for assuming.” Embarrassment trickles into relief as I lift my gaze to Trace. “You resigned as CEO?”
“I still own the company and a seat on the board, but I handed off the day to day operations about four months ago. It took me a while to find a good fit. She runs this place better than I did.”
Is that the good news he and Cole were discussing on the phone that night? The timing is right.
“What are you going to do?” I ask him.
His expression transforms, the devil in his eyes. “Anything I want.”
He doesn’t glance down at my body, but he doesn’t have to. His tone is pure sex, gliding over my skin and stoking a deep burn.
“I’m going to get my dinner order to go.” Alexis rises from the table, her attention on me. “I’ve seen the financial statements. You used to bring a lot of revenue to the restaurant. I don’t care what you do with him, just keep it behind closed doors and bring the money in again.”
With that, she strides toward the kitchen.
I turn to Trace and find him watching me with a smirk on his lips.
“You’re an asshole,” I say without heat in my voice.
“I think we’ve established that.”
“Why did you let me believe you two were an item?”
“You were so fired up to fight for me I wanted to give you an opportunity to do that. Until I saw your discomfort on the stage. I couldn’t let it draw out another second. There’s no reason for it.” His timbre drops. “You already have me.”
An overwhelming feeling of belonging and promise bursts inside me. I stand and circle the table, taking the seat Alexis abandoned. A foot of space separates us, but he feels closer the moment our eyes connect.
“It’s been seven months.” My throat tightens. “Don’t go easy on me, Trace. I want to prove to you that you were never second choice. Or any kind of choice. It was always you. I just…I had to do a lot of growing up to figure that out.”
His expression softens. “What would you have done if I was fucking her?”
“If it was just sex, I would’ve sabotaged the relationship.”
“You don’t have the ruthlessness or skill to do that.” He stares at my mouth.
“I’ve been taking notes, learning from the best. How many men have you chased from my house?”
“Touché.”
No part of him touches me, but the warmth of his brilliant blue gaze is enough to make my heart thunder out of control.
He turns his chair, angling his body to face me. “You’ve already proven your feelings, Danni. The day I left, the devastation on your face, it nearly destroyed me. I don’t have to imagine how hard it was for you to go through that again with Cole. Just knowing you did it, because you love me, is enough.”
“I made it so much harder than it—”
“Shut up and listen.” His jaw flexes. “You needed the journey to discover who you are and what you want.” He straightens. “You’ve suffered enough. I love you, and I will not put you through hell for another minute.”
“You haven’t put me through hell.”
“Haven’t I?” He pulls in a breath and slowly releases it. “I proposed to you knowing Cole might return. He and I manipulated and deceived you while you were being pulled in two directions.” He lowers his voice. “When you gathered the courage to leave, we dragged you back illegally, against your will. Have you forgotten this?”
I shake my head. “I made mistakes, too.”
“Mistakes? No, Danni. You love with everything you have. Christ, how many times have you forgiven me? The least I can do is forgive you for the last seven months. But that’s the thing. You’ve done nothing wrong. Cole and I went into this knowing how it would end. We put you in a horrible position, and you’re sitting here telling me not to go easy on you?”
He’s so damn mature and logical I don’t know why I expected anything less. His levelheadedness is one of the countless things I depend on.
“We’re putting this behind us,” he says firmly. “No more fighting about the past. No more regrets. We’re moving forward.”
My mind races as everything sinks in.
“You’re single.” Saying the words aloud feels like a newborn breath.
“I gave my heart away a long time ago.” Months of regret retreat under the raw affection in his voice. “I’m very much committed.”
My chest squeezes. “I have things to say.”
“Say them.” He leans in, a hand on the back of my chair, the other on the table, surrounding me in the strength of his presence.
“I’m not perfect. I’m messy. I’ll scatter shit all over the floor and jumble up your self-control. I’ll irritate you, do impulsive things, piss you off, and beg for forgiveness.” I swallow hard, fighting tears. “I’ll always love Cole.”
His silence is so deep the whispers of restaurant patrons envelope us in an airless bubble, where we’re a universe of two holding its breath.
When he finally speaks, his voice is rough. “I’ll always love him, too.”
My face crumples, and I grab his hand on his lap. “I’m yours. You’ll never find a woman who loves you as much as I do.
“I talked to Cole this morning, and he told me the same thing.”
“You did?” My stomach churns as I search his face for answers. “Why wasn’t he answering his phone? Is he…?” Okay? Will he ever be okay?
“I sent him a text mentioning your appearance last night. That was the trigger for his call this morning. He didn’t want to talk to me until you made contact. Didn’t want to be the one to tell me what happened.” He bends closer and trails a finger along my jaw, sending shivers down my spine. “At his request, I won’t give you updates on him. It’s the same request I made seven months ago, and I trust that he honored it.”
I nod, trembling against a surge of tears.
“Shake it off,” he says sternly. “He told me you’ve been back for a month. I assume you spent that month crying for him.”
I nod again. “I needed the time.”
“Good. Now it ends.”
He reaches into the pocket of his pants. My pulse detonates as he slides a silver band on the ring finger of my left hand. The same infinity band he gave me a year ago.
“We’ll marry on Valentine’s Day.” It’s an order, not a question.
My lungs pant with confusion and excitement. “That’s only—”
“Thirty days away.” He lifts my hand and touches his lips against the inside of my wrist. “You have a month to choreograph the dance. I’m in charge of everything else, including the dress.”
Shaken by the turn of events and the inflexible demand in his voice, I let my mouth hang open until he shuts it with a finger beneath my chin.
“I informed the restaurant you would only be dancing for two hours.” He stands, pulling me with him. “Your shift is over.”
I follow him in stunned silence out of Bissara and down the hall toward his private elevator. I’ve been so worried about winning him back I hadn’t let myself even think about the feel of his mouth against mine, let alone a night in his penthouse.
He doesn’t touch me, doesn’t look at me until we step inside the lift. Pressing the button for the 31st floor, he steps back, hands behind him with the width of the elevator between us. Then he gives me the full force of his gaze.
“I haven’t had sex in seven months, and that was…” His jaw sets. “Cole was with us. Before that, it had been—”
“Seven weeks.” I remember that night, the angry sex, with agonizing shame. “You didn’t come inside me.” I peer at him from across the elevator, begging for forgiveness. “We haven’t been together, really been together, in over a year.”
He nods, eyes hard and unblinking as he glares at the painful-looking erection pressing behind his zipper. “I’m…excited.”
It’s a strange, wonderfully endearing thing to hear from such a self-restrained man.
“I want to…” I step toward him hesitantly. “I need to kiss you.”
The elevator dings. The doors open, and I wait, caught in the heat of his eyes.
“Go in.” His hoarse growl shivers through me.
The moment I step into the penthouse, he spins me to face him and lifts me from the floor.
His tall frame crushes me against the wall, vibrating with strength and power. His hands tangle in my hair, and his mouth devours my gasp. Despite the urgent tension in his body, his kiss is tender. He licks across my lips, parting them with his tongue, and sinks slowly inside.
We share a thousand unspoken whispers, tasting and savoring each one. Beneath the kisses, however, lurks something more primitive, carnal. His cock presses hard against my hip, and I slide a hand around the warmth of his neck, bracing for it, anticipating it.
“On your knees.” He lowers my feet, panting. “I’m going to use your mouth to take the edge off.” The hot warning caresses my ear. “Then I’ll fuck you properly.”
With a shiver, I slide down the wall, roaming my hands across his shirt and tracing the ridged muscle beneath. When my knees meet the floor, I stroke the flexing strength in his thighs, front to back, glorying in the hard shape of his ass.
“Don’t toy with me.” He flattens his palms on the wall, head lowered between his arms, watching me with hooded eyes.
With trembling hands, I unfasten his belt, lower the zipper, and free his swollen length. He’s so aroused there’s a damp spot on his briefs.
“You’re beautiful.” I pull his clothes down his thighs, exposing every thick inch of him.
“Suck me, Danni.”
His legs shake as I touch my lips to the broad crown and sip gently. He groans, low and rough, and his breaths grow louder, shorter. I expect him to slam into my mouth, but he doesn’t.
He’s giving me control. His hands remain on the wall. He doesn’t thrust, doesn’t grab my head and force my mouth on him. He just stands before me, hungry and coiled with desire, and allows me to enjoy him.
Stretching my jaw, I take him fully into my mouth, sucking him to the back of my throat.
“Fuck.” He grunts, chest heaving, and adjusts his feet on the floor.
His reactions turn me on like nothing else. Thighs clenching, I grip the base of his cock and stroke as I suck. My other hand takes care of his balls, kneading and rubbing and sending him into a groaning fit of primal need. He explodes within seconds, shooting streams of come down my throat while shouting my name.
I lick and nuzzle his spent cock as his body slackens and his breathing returns to normal.
“Thank you.” He cups my face, eyes sleepy, looking for all the world like a happy man.
“Better?”
“Ask me in a few days. I have a lot more of that to work out of my system. It might take years.”
“Just keep me hydrated.” I slide up his body, pulling off his suit jacket. “I’m all yours.”
“You think I’m kidding.” Gripping my backside, he runs his hands upward and shapes my hips, my waist, my breasts. A hard squeeze makes me whimper and wriggle closer.
“Remove your clothes.” His breath kisses my throat, his mouth wet as he nibbles and bites.
Shivering, I step back. Then I turn and walk slowly toward the bedroom, putting a sway in my hips.
The sound of his footsteps trails me down the hall. I unclasp the beaded bra and let it dangle from an outstretched finger before dropping it and glancing over my shoulder.
He prowls behind me, expression smoldering as he slowly unbuttons the cuffs on his sleeves. His trousers are back in place, unzipped and hanging precariously on his hips. Heavy-lidded eyes, lips swollen from our kisses, he’s so potently, seductively good-looking my brain stops working whenever I look at him.
I veer into his bedroom and tackle my skirt. As I start to shove it down, I remind myself to go slow, to tease and seduce, to make this as perfect for him as I can.
Rolling my hips, I slide the lacy material downward and take the panties with it. As each inch of my nudity is revealed, his breathing grows louder behind me. I don’t give into the temptation to look back until I’m completely bare. Then I turn my head.
His shirt lies on the floor at his feet, his upper body ripped with lean muscle from throat to groin.
“Don’t move.” He closes the distance in three slow strides, making my blood burn hot with nervous desire.
His mouth brushes my shoulder, and my skin sizzles. His tongue curls around my earlobe, and I moan.
“So delicate yet so strong.” He feathers his fingertips down my back.
“So handsome yet so cruel.” I reach back and grip his hard thigh. “Stop teasing and take off your pants.”
To my surprise, he obeys, stripping quickly before lifting me up and dumping me on the bed. I roll to my back, and he climbs up my body, kissing and licking his way to my mouth. Then he straddles my waist and thrusts his tongue past my lips.
He’s hard again, the heavy weight of his cock jerking against my abs as he kisses me with deep, greedy tastes. Just when I think I can’t bear another teasing second, he moves back down my body, his hands and tongue worshiping every dip and curve.
“Come back,” I groan, pulling on his arm and squirming beneath his tickling lips. “I want to breathe in your sexiness.”
“Hold still.” He nips at my hipbone and wedges his shoulders between my legs, spreading me wide.
When his gaze lowers to my pussy, he sucks in a breath.
“No piercing?” His eyes narrow on mine.
“I removed it. I thought…” I got the piercing with Cole, and reminders of him hurt my heart.
“It’s okay.” He runs a hand up my chest and pinches a nipple. “There are plenty of other places to wear jewelry.”
“I love you.” I stroke my fingers through the soft texture of his blond hair.
“I love you, too.” He presses a kiss to my navel.
Then he returns to my pussy and uses his finger and tongue to send me into a writhing, moaning, mindless blob of liquid bones. One orgasm isn’t good enough. He spends another ten minutes pushing me over the edge again.
Smiling an intoxicating rare smile, he moves up my body and frames my face in his warm hands. I’m so wet there’s no need to work himself in.
A shift of his hips aligns us, and he imprisons me in the bright fervency of his eyes. Then he sinks inside, fitting our bodies together with agonizing slowness. Languidly, heavily, he strokes along my inner walls. We groan together, lips seeking and colliding. My nerve-endings stir and my chest tingles as our tongues dance and mate, licking and rubbing before going wild.
When he breaks the kiss, it’s to stare into my eyes. Then he kisses me again, going back and forth, looking at me, kissing me, like he can’t get close enough, deep enough. All the while, the roll of his hips maintains a tortuously slow pace.
He’s never made love to me like this before. I feel everything. Not just the physical connection, but the soul-deep attachment. He’s inside me, in my heart, exactly where he’s supposed to be.
I sense the moment he climbs toward the pinnacle. His rhythm accelerates, and he hooks an arm beneath my knee, shoving my leg up and out, stretching me wider.
“With me,” he gasps against my lips and thrusts more aggressively, urgently.
“I’m with you.” I buck against his driving hips, chasing the pleasure and trembling against the swelling surge. “Fuck me. Hard. Harder.”
He rides me like a damn devil, grinding, ramming in and out. It’s so good, so impossibly perfect. But it’s his unwavering eye contact that sends me over. I come with his name ripping from my throat, and he explodes with me, his gaze naked and feral as he grunts and thrusts to completion.
I sag, limp and breathless, against the mattress with the thrum of his heart as my only anchor. This isn’t a dream. It’s really happening.
Despite his orgasm, he continues move inside me. Then he takes my mouth, gifting me with a kiss as raw and satisfying as the sex.
“I’m not finished with you.” He bites at my lips.
“Promise?” I kiss him back.
“I promise those will be the last words you hear before you fall asleep.”
“Every night?”
“For the rest of my life.”