One Last Dance (21 page)

Sophie’s orgasm thundered through
her with the power of a freight train. She shuddered, toes curling, hands
clenching so tightly on the wood of the barre that she lost feeling in her
fingers. Or, perhaps that was only because the nerves of her body were all busy
conveying the overload of information from between her legs.

Henry’s fingers kept caressing
her as his cock tunneled into her slick flesh, drawing the sensations out. He
murmured rough, sweet words she couldn’t understand against her lips, touching
his damp mouth to her cheek, her jaw, her eyelids before returning to her
mouth.

Oh God, how she loved this man!

“Sophie,” he groaned, wrapping
his arms tightly around her and holding her against him as she clenched
rhythmically around his shaft and whimpered. Had she spoken her words of love
aloud? She didn’t know, didn’t care. All her attention was focused on Henry, on
the place where their bodies joined.

He withdrew from her suddenly,
making her cry out at the loss. She felt empty and cold without him pressed
against her, into her.

“Henry, what—” she began
breathlessly, her question becoming a gasp of surprise as he swept her up into
his arms and strode out of the classroom. She wriggled in his arms. The hot,
slick tip of his cock brushed against her ass as he pushed through the door.

“I know I saw, ahh. Good.”

Sophie blinked as he flipped on
the light in the office, a pleased tilt to his sculpted mouth as his dark eyes
took in the narrow cot against the far wall. Darren had gotten it for
emergencies, so they’d have a spot for an injured or unwell student to lay down
if needed.

“There’s no way we can both fit
on there. There’s no room.” She stroked a lock of sweat damp hair back from his
forehead, stroking her fingers down the line of his jaw. Sophie pressed her
mouth against the warm, moist skin of his throat and licked, enjoying the salty
taste of him.

“There’s enough. Trust me.” He
laid her gently on the soft cloth, his hands trailing over her shoulders,
breasts, belly and hips. He skimmed lightly over her skin, the caresses barely
there. Sophie quivered, fresh desire spiking her veins.

Lying as he’d placed her, thighs
parted, arms at her sides, Sophie watched as Henry undressed with swift
precision. She licked her lips as he undid his cufflinks and pulled the dress
shirt completely off, setting it on a nearby shelf.

She didn’t see him heel-and-toe off
his shoes and socks, but he must have done so because when he dropped his
slacks and boxers, he stood bare before her. Her heart performed a rather
passable jeté as he sank to his knees and tugged her forward.

Henry lifted her legs around his
shoulders, eyes glinting as he bent to press his mouth to her her drenched sex.
Despite the monumental orgasm that had swept through her only a few minutes
ago, the touch of his hot mouth on her pussy sent a shard of pleasure deep into
her gut.

“Henry, God!” Sophie moaned, the
muscles of her belly tightening as she leaned up on her elbows to watch him. He
met her gaze, rubbing his open mouth back and forth against the slick lips of
her slit. He licked his lips, nuzzling his chin against her inner thigh.

“I want to make you feel good,
mia bella Sophie.”

His voice was thick, his gaze
dark and intense. And there was so much to his words. He was bad for her, he’d
said. He’d only hurt her. He’d sounded like he really believed that. Was he
trying to prove, perhaps to both of them, that he could do better than that?

She brushed her fingers lightly
against his cheek, his lips, his hair. “You do, Henry.”

There was a tender fierceness in
his gaze as he pressed a kiss to her mound. Then his tongue snaked out to lap
at her, pushing wet heat against her clit and lower, into the satin clutch of
her swollen passage.

Sophie fell back on the cot,
arching, her fingers tightening in his hair. She lifted her hips, urging him
against her reawakened flesh.

He nibbled and sucked, his mouth
insistent as he once again drove her back up to pulsing, writhing peaks of
pleasure. His hands weren’t still either, roaming her body while he worked
between her thighs. He stroked and caressed her breasts, tugging her nipples
until she cried out at the tingling bolts of sensation this sent into her womb.

As she grew more frantic, rubbing
and pressing herself against his mouth, so too did his ministrations. He
kneaded her hips and belly before sliding his grip down beneath her ass,
lifting her to his wicked mouth. His tongue speared inside her, pushing and
sliding, deliciously hot and the tiniest bit rough against her tender tissues.

Henry pulled her clit between his
lips and pressed, sucking, tipping her over the edge.

Golden, sparkling pulses of
pleasure cascaded through Sophie like the finale of a fireworks show, exploding
behind her eyes and between her thighs.

This time she was aware of
calling out her love for Henry, unable to contain the words when he had made
her feel this way. He responded with a feral growl, dragging his mouth over her
belly as he crawled quickly up her body, his movements strong and powerful,
like a great cat.

He took her mouth in a deep kiss,
his tongue demanding against hers. He tasted of her, his lips and face still
warm and damp with her juices. Sophie wrapped her arms around his broad
shoulders, squeezing him tightly as she curled her legs around his waist.

“Tesoro,” he murmured, nipping
her lip, and then slipped into her with one slow, deep push. His cock was thick
and hot and pulsing inside her. Sophie clung to him, trembling at the sensation
of being filled, stretched, completed. Henry’s broad palms cradled her head,
his eyes glittering. He didn’t move, just held himself within her.

And then his eyes drifted closed
and he sighed, his voice ragged. Sophie wasn’t sure she caught all of his
whispered words then, though she wouldn’t know what “desidero che potrei
rimanere qui per sempre” meant either way.

Still, she cupped his face
between her palms and kissed his mouth. “I love you, Henry Medina.”

He moved then, the urgency of
their earlier joining gone, though none of the intensity was. They didn’t speak
anymore, not out loud. But Henry watched her face as he rocked into her,
pressing her down into the cot. The metal legs shifted and squeaked beneath
their weight, but Sophie didn’t care.

She held him against her heart,
urged him with the press of her ankles against the small of his flexing back,
the stroke of her hands against his shoulders. She met each thrust with an arch
of her own, shivering with the fierce tingling of each glide of his cock inside
her, the friction hot and delicious.

Her fingernails dug into the
sweat slick skin of his muscled arms as pleasure expanded within her yet again,
pushing outward from beneath her skin like a bubble. Her breath was a ragged
pant, her breasts rubbing against the wiry mat of Henry’s chest hair.

He slid his arms beneath her,
lifting her against him, his hold tight. He surrounded her, filled not only her
body, but all her senses; the spicy scent of his skin, rasp of his breath, the
wet slide of his cock, his dark eyes burning into hers, the intoxicating taste
of his mouth as he took hers in a passionate kiss. Sophie felt as if there
wasn’t a single inch of her self, inside or out, that Henry wasn’t touching. It
was beautiful and perfect.

Tears stung her eyes, slipping
from beneath her lids as her eyes fluttered closed and she was swept beneath
the tide of overwhelming pleasure as Henry made her come again. She cried out,
arching hard against him, fingers digging into his shoulders, legs squeezing as
her pussy clamped down on his shaft.

This time, Henry came with her.
His groan sounded wrenched from deep within him as he drove his cock into her,
pressing his pubic bone tight to hers as he twitched and jerked. Sophie felt
the swell and pulse of his flesh within her and the warm rush of his seed
filling her. She shuddered, more tears wetting her cheeks as even more pleasure
rippled through her at the slick heat of it.

Henry pressed his forehead hard
to hers, his breath warm on her damp skin as he, too, shuddered with his
release. His weight bore down on her, but Sophie didn’t care. She tightened her
arms and legs around him, holding him there, not wanting him to move, to leave
her.

Beneath them, the metal legs of
the cot gave a squealing groan, but they didn’t collapse. Henry chuckled
softly. “That’s some quality craftsmanship.”

“Seriously,” Sophie huffed a
laugh. “I’m impressed.”

His lips touched the arch of her
brow, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. Sophie sighed. She knew they still
needed to talk. They hadn’t exactly finished their conversation earlier. They’d
gotten sidetracked.

With delightful results,
admittedly. But still. She stroked the long muscles of his back, trailing her
fingertips along the bumps of his spine. Henry exhaled softly, his breath
brushing softly across her throat and the tops of her breasts.

“Sophie, I...” He trailed off,
swallowing, his eyes on her face. Just as she had earlier at the party, Sophie
pressed her fingers to his lips, silencing him.

“There are things we still need
to discuss. I know.”

Henry nodded and then dropped his
forehead to her collarbone. “There is so much... Sophie, I want to tell you
about the company and my father and Nicole –”

“Um, can we not talk about
her
when we’re,” she wriggled her hips beneath him and felt the slight twitch of
his still semi-hard cock inside her, “like
this
? Please?”

Henry chuckled. “Okay. Though, we
do need to talk. About a lot. You were right about some of the things you said,
but...” He lifted his head and met her eyes. “Sophie, I need to think.”

She felt a small bubble of
coldness bloom in her heart. She had thought she’d understood what he’d been
saying, without words, while he made love to her. But perhaps she’d been wrong.
Maybe this was just a ‘goodbye’ fuck. She almost winced in pain at the thought.

It must have shown on her face,
because Henry’s hands cupped her head and squeezed gently. “Not like that. I’m
saying this all wrong. Tonight has been...” He shook his head and then brushed
her lips with his. “Overwhelming. All I’m saying is I need a little time to
process everything before we have this talk. Do you understand?”

Sophie swallowed, trying to push
the fear from her heart and mind. He was making sense. She had dumped a lot in
his lap, showing up at the party out of the blue and throwing herself in Jorge
and Nicole’s face, blowing up at Henry, proclaiming her love. He had a right to
feel overwhelmed, and every right to ask for some time to process it.

Time didn’t mean he was rejecting
her. She had to remember what she’d just felt in his arms. Sophie forced
herself to meet Henry’s eye, give him a smile, and nod. “Of course. Why don’t
we... maybe we can do lunch in a day or so. Once you’ve had time to think.”

She fluttered her lashes, trying
to ignore the sting of tears at the back of her nose. She released his
shoulders and began wriggling, trying to shift him off of her so she could get
up and get dressed.

Henry’s arms tightened around
her. “If you keep doing that we’ll never get back to my apartment.”

“W-what?” Sophie stilled. Henry
released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The corners of his mouth
ticked upward.

“You can be in the room while I
think, Sophie. It’s getting late, and I’m sure you must be as exhausted as I
am. Come back to my place. Stay with me. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Sophie felt her eyes widen as his
words sank in. She’d thought he was asking her to leave him alone for awhile,
but he was asking her to spend the night with him. Not that she hadn’t done
that in the past, but he’d never asked her to.

Her breath caught in her throat.
He wanted to talk. He wanted to open up to her, he’d said as much. And he
wanted her near him. Surely, those were all good signs. Perhaps she hadn’t
misread the silent messages his body had been sending her all night.

“Okay.” The word was barely a
breath. It was all she had, because the warm glow of invitation in Henry’s eyes
and the curve of his mouth had stolen the rest. “Let’s go.”

The first pink light of dawn
touching the New York City skyline woke Sophie in the morning.

She stretched, reveling in the
sweet ache in her muscles. Henry had brought her to the penthouse last night,
and they’d made love again, his big, hard body cradling hers as he spooned her,
moving so deliciously slowly that her orgasm had seeped into her like warm
water sinking into sand.

He’d breathed her name in her ear
as he’d come, shaking against her back as he poured into her. His body had
relaxed then and they’d both drifted off to sleep in minutes, still tangled
together.

She was alone in the acres of bed
now, though. Sophie had never known anyone who rose earlier than she did, but
Henry was always up before her. Or, at least, he had been every night she’d
spent here.

Which brought to mind her other
mornings here at Henry’s. Would she leave the building crying again today?

Sophie knew it was a possibility.
If Henry decided he wasn’t willing to open up, to take this risk for the chance
of something more, it would break her heart. Now that she’d admitted she loved
him...

No. Sophie refused to borrow
trouble. She swung herself out bed, shivering a little as the cool air struck
her naked body. Once again, when she glanced around the richly appointed room,
there were no signs of her clothes. There was no way a maid had come in while
they were sleeping. Not this early.

Had Henry put them somewhere?
Last time he’d left her clothes in the bathroom. She hurried in that direction,
wanting to see him again. She wished he’d been there when she woke. It would be
nice to see Henry, face relaxed and sleepy, dark hair mussed. Her heart thumped
at the image and her pussy gave a twinge of appreciation.

“Down girl,” she muttered with a
chuckle. She’d think after the multiple, mind-bending orgasms Henry had given
her last night that she’d be sated for at least a day. Apparently not. When it
came to him, she was insatiable.

Her clothes were folded neatly on
the bench beside the shower. Only, they weren’t her clothes. Sophie frowned.
They were, actually, just not her clothes from last night. The black, stretchy
pants were identical, but the t-shirt was white, emblazoned with the words ‘I
Should Have a Follow Spot’.

It was the t-shirt she’d worn the
first time she’d spent the night at Henry’s. That time, she’d shed it in the
small parlor off his bedroom and the maid had gathered it up before she woke.
Henry had promised to return it to her, but in all the drama that followed,
she’d completely forgotten about it.

She fingered the soft fabric now.
So much had happened since that night. Then, her biggest concern had been her
knee. Now, she stood in almost the exact same place and was much more worried
about her heart.

The shower beckoned, and Sophie
climbed inside, enjoying the warm water pouring over her skin. Her back felt a
little raw, and remembering the encounter on the cot, she shivered. The man who
had made love to her on the cot in her studio loved her back. Sophie was sure
of it.

Almost sure.

She dried quickly and put on her
clean clothes. She looked younger than she was in the slightly oversized
t-shirt with her hair wet around her shoulders. Despite her unease, Sophie
could see the light of pleasure and happiness still burning behind her eyes.
She smiled at her reflection and set out to find Henry.

He wasn’t in the small parlor. A
paperback was open on one of the low tables though, the spine slightly creased.
Sophie ran her fingers across the cover. It was a book by Isabel Allende.
Sophie had read it once on a train through Budapest. Did Henry find the rich
description as enamoring as she did?

Sophie bit her lip, wanting the
opportunity to ask him, to sit across a dinner table perhaps and discuss books
or movies or anything. They’d had very little normal between them in the brief
course of their relationship.

“Henry?” She poked her head out
onto the terrace, taking a deep breath of early morning air, still tasting
slightly chilly. He wasn’t there either.

She didn’t bother doing more than
peeking into the other bedrooms. Each was decorated in a slightly different
style. They all boasted the same rich elegance, and subdued wealth, as Henry’s
room, though not quite on the same grand scale.

There was a library that Sophie
could have lost herself in for days. She eyed the floor to ceiling shelves
stuffed full of volumes with undisguised longing, but the room was empty. It
was clear Henry spent at least some time here, at least. A leather wingback was
arranged with a view of the thin window, and the small end table beside it was
covered in several folded newspapers and magazines. An empty tumbler weighted
them all down.

One room was full of racks of
wines. She’d known Henry enjoyed wines, but hadn’t realized he had such an
extensive collection. The dining room and kitchen were both empty as well,
though there was coffee made and some fresh cut fruit.

“Well, at least there’s
breakfast.” She fixed herself a mug of coffee and popped a bite of sweet melon
into her mouth. She munched at the fruit and sipped her coffee, listening
intently for any noise in the vast penthouse.

Had he gone out for something?

She heard a soft ping and
followed the sound to a closed door beneath the stairs that she hadn’t noticed
before. It was slightly ajar. She pushed lightly with her fingertips and it
swung open on silent hinges.

Henry sat behind a huge mahogany
desk, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, frowning over a packet of papers. His
laptop was open beside him, the source of the ping that had drawn her.

Sophie took a step backward,
biting her lip. He was clearly working and she didn’t want to interrupt. His
eyes flicked up to her face before she could retreat.

“Sophie, come in.” His brow
smoothed and he beckoned her closer.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you. I
wasn’t sure where you were.” She leaned her hip against the side of his desk,
biting her lip. She couldn’t meet his eyes for very long, the anxiety she
thought she’d suppressed trickling back into her brain. She ran a finger around
the rim of her mug instead.

His tentatively circled her wrist
with his fingers, lifting her knuckles for a brief kiss. “It’s fine, Sophie. I
was just looking over some paperwork.”

“Oh?” She licked her lips, her
pulse leaping at his touch. Their eyes met. Sophie saw the flare of desire in
Henry’s dark gaze, but there was still some wariness there too. She was
surprised when he tugged her down into his lap and wrapped an arm around her
waist.

His fingers stroked her side
absently and he waved the papers in his other hand. “Plans for a building in
Switzerland. The location is prime, I’m just not sure what for.” He sighed.
“Sorry, I thought I would come wake you soon, but I guess I lost track of
time.”

She stroked the soft hair at the
nape of his neck. “What time did you get up?”

“Too early,” he groaned. She
chuckled, poking at the sheaf of papers.

“This was bothering you, wasn’t
it?”

His brows curved upward. Was he
surprised that she’d guessed correctly or that she wasn’t angry with him?
Sophie couldn’t tell.

Henry’s lips quirked. “It was.
Not while I was sleeping of course.” He squeezed her waist. “But once I was
awake...” He shrugged.

“That big, sexy brain started
working?” Sophie ran her fingers through his hair. Henry tilted his head, eyes
wide with surprise.

“You think my brain is sexy?”

Sophie shifted on his lap, a
flush staining her cheeks. The truth was, she thought everything about him was
sexy. “Maybe. So, where in Switzerland is this project you’re pondering?”

His lips twitched into an amused
smile, but he let her change the subject. “Lausanne.” He pronounced it with the
French accent, low-zen.

“Oh! I love it there. It’s a
beautiful city. Is the property on the lake?” Joy sprang in Sophie’s chest as
she remembered the lovely Swiss city on Lake Geneva. Henry blinked in surprise.

“You’ve been there?”

It was Sophie’s turn to raise her
brows. “Of course! The Prix de Lausanne is a big deal in the dance world.”

“I didn’t think you were
interested in ballet.”

“My training is classical. I just
prefer the energy of tango.” She shrugged one shoulder, dismissing her past as
a ballerina. “So, where in Lausanne is the property? Are you thinking of
apartments or hotels? There’s a fair bit of competition of you’re thinking
hotels.”

“That’s true. The city is fairly
cosmopolitan, based on the report. Perhaps a club would be better for the
location.” Henry frowned at the packet of paper as if he expected it to chime
in.

Sophie held out her hand. She
didn’t want to just take the report. This was new ground for them and she
didn’t want to push. Still, the business conversation had at least helped
diffuse some of the awkward, morning after tension. She smiled when Henry slid
the thick bundle of pages into her grasp.

“Have you never been there? Oh,
but you said you oversee the construction phase, so someone else chose the
location and the property, I guess.”

“Precisely. All I’ve got is an
empty plot, in this case.” His lips thinned.

She flipped through the pages of
the report. Demographics, median incomes, popular tourists spots. All the
information he might need to decide what to put up in the location. “Well, a
fair percentage of the population are foreign nationals, so you could do
something in an American style and it might feel like home to people. When we
were there, the clubs were more in the style of the European disco. We’d have
killed for someplace a little more...” She trailed off, unsure of what word she
was looking for.

“American?” Henry’s grin flashed.

“Yeah. That’s terrible, I know.
But when you travel as much as I did, a little bit of home can be nice. But you
must know, you travel a lot too, right?” She couldn’t help herself, she reached
out at stroked his chest. The temptation to touch him was just too great.
Henry’s eyes heated, but he didn’t remark on her caress.

“I do understand. The travel can
be a bit wearing at times.”

Sophie toyed with a button on his
shirt. “Where was your favorite place to go?”

“That’s hard. There are so many
great places. I enjoyed Germany, and Turkey. Oh, and Italy, of course.”

“I love Italy. I think I would
live there if I could. At least some of the time.” She grinned, remembering a cascade
of memories from various trips to Italy. She loved the history and the food and
the weather of the place. She sighed.

Henry brushed a lock of damp hair
back off her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist. Sophie settled a
little against his chest. They sat silently for a moment. She was content to
relax against him and just feel him breath. At least for a little while. But
quickly, the tension began to mount again. The conversation they hadn’t yet
had.

She felt him growing tense too,
most likely for the same reason. Was he thinking about sending her away? Had he
made his decision already? If so, Sophie wished he’d just tell her and get it
over with. The anticipation was killing her.

“Sophie, I—”

“I should get going if I’m going
to get to the studio on time.” Maybe it wasn’t the anticipation that had her
tied in knots, because she bolted to her feet as if he’d lit an actual fire
under her butt.

Henry frowned. “I thought the
studio didn’t open until eight?”

“I have to go change first. And I
should probably get there before Darren just to make sure we didn’t leave
any... um... evidence of our activities behind.” She flushed, remembering their
heated encounter the night before. The muscle that jumped in Henry’s jaw said
he was remembering too.

“Okay.”

“We’ll talk later?” She was being
a big old scaredy-cat. Sophie knew it. The prospect of him saying he didn’t
love her, didn’t want to give this relationship a chance, terrified her. Give
him a little more time to think, make sure he’s sure of what he wanted. They
could talk tonight. Or tomorrow. Or maybe they didn’t have to talk at all. They
could just keep doing like they’d done last night for the next, say, fifty
years.

“Later,” Henry confirmed, making
her heart drop into her stomach and then leap into her mouth.

Sophie swallowed, cupped his
chin, and brushed her mouth across his. “I love you, Henry.”

She hurried out of the room, and
his penthouse, before he could say anything else.

***

“Listen, girl, you can’t just
hang up on me in the middle of a conversation and then never call me back and
tell me you’re okay! I almost called the cops!”

Darren stood in the office
doorway, hands on his hips, green eyes blazing at her.

“Sorry, babe. Henry showed up
just then and...” She dropped her gaze, heat staining her cheeks as she thought
about the “and.” Darren quirked a blond brow.

“That’s what I figured. It’s the
only reason I didn’t call the cops. I didn’t guess you’d want New York’s finest
bursting in on your make-up time.” He sank into the desk chair and crossed his
arms. “So, the plan went well then?”

Sophie swept past him, heading
for the front classroom. The first class of the day was due to start in twenty
minutes, their professionals class, and she should really stretch before
getting into the more complex routines she tried with her working dancers.

“Yes, and no.”

Darren followed her with a
put-upon sigh. “Meaning what, Sophie? Did he fall at your feet and pledge his
undying love?”

“Yes to the first part, no to the
second?” She could barely look at the barre without picturing Henry’s muscled
form bending over her, the hot length of his cock pushing inside her. She shook
herself and began a series of floor stretches instead. Darren frowned.