Dance All Night: A DANCE OFF HOLIDAY NOVELLA Read online

  It was a good face. He had good eyes, eyes that showered her with his undivided attention when she spoke—well, except for while he was driving, but he still darted looks at her and sent quick little grins her way.

  He had a good mouth, too. A very good mouth. She ran her tongue over her lower lip, recalling his kisses. Maybe tonight she’d find out what else that mouth could do.

  And then there were his hands, currently gripping the steering wheel as he navigated the freeway that would take them to Big Bear. Okay, so his hands weren’t part of his face, but they were good hands—nay, exceptionally good hands. Her eyelids fluttered with remembered pleasure. Everything about their hot tub makeout session had been so perfect she almost wished someone had filmed it so she could relive it over and over and…

  If he stayed, she wouldn’t need a video of him to rub one out to. She’d have the real thing whenever she wanted it. If he stayed.

  I’ll stay, if you want me to.

  Tonight was their last date. And then she’d have to decide if he’d pulled off a Christmas miracle after all and convinced her, a die-hard Scrooge, that dreams did come true, Christmas magic was real, and there were good men in this world who could be trusted to stick around.

  When the next song ended, she gathered her courage and asked a question that had been on her mind since he’d popped into her life. “When was your last serious relationship?”

  He used the steering wheel controls to lower the music volume, keeping his eyes on the road. “I had girlfriends when I lived in New York, but since then I haven’t stayed in one place long enough for anything lasting, you know?”

  The next question lodged in her throat, but she spoke it out loud anyway. “But you want that with me. Something ‘lasting.’” Not a question, then. A clarification.

  He cut his gaze to her and nodded once.

  She let out a long breath as more questions bubbled up inside her. Why the sudden shift? she wanted to ask. Why didn’t you want it before? What’s different now? And most importantly, Why me? But those she held back. No matter what he said, there was still a good chance she wouldn’t believe him.

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “You really want to know?”

  “No.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “But I figure you brought it up because you want to talk about it.”

  Shit, did she? Maybe he was right, because before she knew it, the words were coming out.

  “I had a boyfriend in Chicago.” She fiddled with her phone to give her hands something to do. “He was from the ballroom circuit. Not my partner, but someone I’d known for a while. We dated for a couple years.”

  She pressed her lips together, because the next part would give away too much. He gave her a go on kind of look, and with a sigh, she did.

  “He moved away, to New York. To ‘make it.’”

  Nik sighed. “If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere. Or so I’ve heard.”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Is that why you moved to LA?”

  “Partly. After he left, there was really nothing for me in Chicago, and I was miserable living at home.”

  “Why not New York?”

  “By the time I’d saved up enough to move, he wasn’t there anymore. He’d landed a contract with a cruise ship company, and now he lives in Florida.”

  “I see.”

  And the thing was, he probably did. But not the whole picture. She let out a long breath, then launched into her sad, sorry history. “He wasn’t the only guy who left.”

  “No?” He glanced over at her, eyebrow raised.

  Something about talking to him while he drove was easier. Maybe because he couldn’t stare her down with those soulful brown eyes that urged her to reveal all her secrets. Now, without their powerful gaze turned on her, it was almost like she was just talking to herself.

  “My dad,” she said, then interrupted herself. “Look, I know where my baggage comes from. It’s not like I’m unaware.”

  Nik didn’t comment on that. “What about your dad?”

  “Nothing major,” she said with a shrug. “We didn’t have a ton of money, and being a competitive dancer isn’t cheap, as I’m sure you know. He and my mom used to fight all the time, and sometimes he’d leave for a while. He always came back, but then they’d go through the cycle all over again. And it…it happened a lot around the holidays. The extra stress of that time of year made their relationship worse, so he’d leave, and then my mom would get depressed and not decorate. That’s the real reason why we didn’t always have a Christmas tree. It was hard to focus on holiday cheer when we were all wondering if this was the time he never came back.”

  Nik was quiet for a moment. “Where is he now?”

  “At home, with my mom.” At his confused look, she let out a resigned chuckle. “I know. It’s so weird. They’re like best friends now. I guess being parents and being a couple was too much for them at the same time. Now that they can just focus on each other, they’re fine.”

  “Jess…that’s not your fault.”

  “Oh, I know.” She forced her tone to be light, because she did know, intellectually. “But I carry the baggage with me all the same. I tried to leave it behind in Chicago, but would you look at that, it followed me all the way to Los Angeles.”

  They drove in silence for a few minutes, long enough for Jess to beat herself up over saying anything in the first place. She opened her mouth to break the silence—a subject change, a bad joke, anything—when Nik reached over and took her hand. He laced their fingers together, rested their joined hands on his thigh, and then turned up the radio volume and began to sing along with a well-known Broadway showtune about friendship.

  And just like that, she felt okay again.

  What’s more, she felt…freer. Less burdened by memories. Over the last week, it had gotten easier to open up to Nik. He was a good listener, and aside from some light teasing about being a Scrooge, he didn’t judge her. Speaking her pain out loud and having him understand eased some of the pressure she carried in her heart.

  And maybe made a little space for him in there, too.

  Once they arrived at Big Bear, Jess could see why he’d brought her. There was Christmas shit everywhere. It was like a freaking Christmas town. And while she giggled over the absurdity of it all, a small part of her was charmed.

  Okay, a big part.

  Fine, all of her found it charming. But that was probably just because she was with Nik. He loved Christmas so much, it was impossible not to get caught up in his enthusiasm.

  All the same, she looked forward to getting to their cabin, where it would be just the two of them, alone.

  Tonight was the night. She was going to have sex with Nik Kovalenko.

  Just the thought of it sent a thrill of desire coursing through her.

  But first, Nik had a whole list of Christmassy shit for them to do. Photos with Santa, ice skating, tubing, even a damned alpine slide. An early dinner at a beautiful restaurant that overlooked Big Bear Lake, followed by something called Santa’s Hayride to the North Pole, which was as charming as it was weird.

  She would have rolled her eyes and demanded he cut to the chase, the chase being his dick, but she was having the time of her life. Not only that, Nik took every opportunity to touch her. He held her hand in the car while stuck in stop-and-go traffic on the freeway. He pressed a light touch to her lower back to shift her away from bumping into a child at Santa’s village. Activities like the alpine slide and tubing required closeness, and he cuddled against her as much as he was able. While ice skating, he only released her to show off some moves, and then she showed off some of her own.

  The touches were so light, so innocent.

  So why the fuck were they igniting a raging fire of lust inside her?

  Their makeout session in the hot tub kept flashing through her mind. Sex with Nik was going to be excellent.

  But deep down, she knew this wasn’t just about playing anymor
e. Her damned heart was involved.

  You hush, she told her heart. This is not heart time. This is coochie time.

  But no matter what she told herself, Nik’s Christmas magic seeped into her and made her consider what the future might hold for them.

  When they pulled up to the cabin, it was like something out of a dream. All warm, weathered wood, peaked roof, and a covered front porch. Colorful lights sparkled in the bushes and a wreath covered half the front door. A sprinkling of snow added to the already-picturesque image. The sight calmed her, somewhat.

  And then, as if he could tell she was nervous, Nik turned to her the moment the door closed behind them. Settling his hands on her shoulders, he looked deep into her eyes and said, “I’ll open some wine.”

  She nodded, and then she finally took a good look around. The cabin was fully decorated, with branches of pine and holly, twinkling white lights, and festive red-and-gold ribbons. A small Christmas tree sat in one corner, and two stockings even hung from the fireplace mantle. The whole place smelled like pine—real pine—and cinnamon.

  The halls, as they say, were decked.

  Jess followed Nik into the open kitchen space where he drew a bottle of Prosecco from the half-fridge under the counter. An explosion of white and red roses sat in a vase on top, scenting the air. “Do the cabins come pre-decorated this time of year?”

  He chuckled. “No, just the outside, although that would be smart.”

  “So, who did all this?” she asked, gesturing at the tree and roses.

  There was a muffled whoosh and a pop as Nik opened the Prosecco, catching the cork in a dishtowel. “I did.”

  She could have sworn the floor just rocked beneath her feet—not an impossibility in California, but in this instance the sensation was caused by his words. “Come again?”

  “I came up here yesterday to set up.” He poured the sparkling, fizzing liquid into two champagne flutes. When he handed her one, she took it automatically, too stunned by his sweet admission to do much else. Then he met her gaze, tapped his glass to hers, and murmured, “Cheers.”

  The word trembled through her, deep and full of promise. She hurried to take a sip. Promises were easy to make. Keeping them was another story.

  But so far, even she had to admit Nik was as good as his word. Somehow, between sipping hot chocolate at the mall while snow bubbles floated around them, baking inappropriate cookies with his family and friends, and entering a Christmas cabin decked out like something in a movie, she had found the sense of comfort that came with such trappings. He’d made her believe.

  Not only that, he made her feel special, made her feel like she belonged. For a girl who’d grown up thinking she didn’t fit in, who liked strange things none of her peers liked, who traveled often for competitions and didn’t hold onto friends, it was a giddy feeling that went straight to her head, like the Prosecco.

  Nik pressed something on his phone, and music began to play softly in the background. The piano notes swirled around them, soon joined by a subtle string accompaniment.

  “Is this ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas?’” Jess asked. This version was romantic, if a tad obvious.

  “Mm-hmm.” He took their glasses and set them on the counter. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he slipped his right arm around her, took her right hand with his left, and swept them into a Viennese waltz.

  Oh. He’d remembered.

  The sweetness of the moment soared through her, merging with the special place this dance style had always held in her heart.

  As they traced through the turns, change steps, and reverse turns, following the one-two-three pattern like it was something they’d been born to do together, the music cast a spell around them. It was the most sensual rendition of the song she’d ever heard, moody and ethereal. The soaring vocals wrapped around them as they moved in unison, turning and reversing in a circuit around the spacious kitchen, their stocking feet shuffling lightly on the tile floor. Nik led them into a six-step fleckerl spin, stopped with a smooth contra check, then sent them spinning the other way.

  Every time he twirled her out and brought her back in, it was a relief to be in closed hold with him again. He maintained perfect control, perfect speed, and kept his eyes on hers, except to check the space around them.

  The beauty of the moment, of the dance, brought tears to her eyes. The waltz had a reputation for being boring or old-fashioned, but to her, there was freedom in the swirling, never-ending movement, a comforting solidity in the hold, and an exuberance in the rise and fall as they rotated around the space.

  Dancing with this man was a dream come true. Everything he was came through in the dance—steady, solid, true. Leading, but gently. With an innate connection to her own rhythm and movement, matching her steps and her momentum. The perfect balance. The perfect partner.

  She never wanted this to end.

  But the song did end, with a long, soulful note, and Nik brought them to rest where they’d started, right next to their glasses. Without taking his gaze from hers, he handed her the drink.

  Her heart was in her throat and in her eyes. The magic of the day was getting to her. Or maybe it was the Prosecco. She took another sip, then set the glass aside again. No, it wasn’t the Prosecco. It was Nik. He’d given her three dates, doing everything in his power to help her enjoy the holiday season and showing her his true self in the process.

  It would take a stronger woman than she to resist all that.

  She slipped her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and tugged him closer.

  “No mistletoe?” she teased.

  “If I have to trick you into kissing me, I’m doing something wrong.” He drained his glass, put it on the counter, and cupped her face with both hands. His eyes smoldered, the amber color hot and dreamy, like smooth caramel.

  “You tasted like champagne the first time we kissed,” he said in a low voice.

  “And potato chips.” Her reminder was nothing more than a murmur, but his lips curved.

  “Sour cream and onion,” he said. And then his mouth came down on hers, and it was everything she’d waited for all day, all year. God, yes, she’d been waiting all year to be with this man. How had she refrained from jumping on him the second she’d seen him in that silly shirt with the ornaments hooked to it? Why had she? Instead of dragging him into a hallway to ask why he was commenting on her pictures, she should have found a dark room and had her way with him. His mouth, his lips, his touch…were everything. The way he savored and sipped at her—but with an edge, as if his slow movements masked a raging sense of hunger—stoked her own desire to a fever pitch.

  Heat rushed through her as she slipped her hands under his shirt and traced her fingers over his abs, like she’d done in the hot tub. He broke the kiss to rip the shirt over his head and toss it aside.

  “Your body is amazing,” she said, the words ending on a groan as her hands roamed his exposed skin, outlining the hard lines, curves, bumps, and angles of his body.

  He laughed under his breath and trailed his fingers down her ribcage. “That’s my line, milochka.”

  The term of endearment gave her shivers. “Now you’ve done it. I’m going to need you to whisper sweet nothings in my ear.”

  He bent closer, and as his hands stroked her body, he unleashed a sensuous stream of Russian. The unfamiliar syllables fell from his mouth in a deep, dark rumble, like approaching thunder. His lips tickled her ear and his breath caressed her neck, heating her from the inside out. The subtle scent of his cologne and the sharp freshness of the Prosecco drugged her senses. She stood in the middle of a storm, powerless against the crush of sensations and emotions tangling within her, toppling all her last defenses.

  Without her walls, without her guards, it was just the two of them. And finally, finally, she could just sink into the moment with him and be.

  When she threw her arms over his shoulders and leaned into him, he lifted her up. Their mouths fused, her legs
locked around his hips, and she whispered one word against his lips: “Bed.”

  In the cabin’s master bedroom, Nik laid her on the bed with care, as if she were made of the finest spun glass. To him, she was just as precious.

  At first, he was content to just lie beside her, kissing languidly. But spinning her around the kitchen for their waltz had been all sorts of foreplay, and she’d already gotten him out of his shirt. He wanted to touch her, too.

  His lips stayed on hers as he skimmed his fingers under the bright orange sweater she wore, enjoying the feel of her warm, smooth skin. Slowly, he edged the fabric up, revealing a lacy black bralette.

  Groaning, he traced his fingertips over the lace, warmed by her body. Jess pulled off the sweater and her hands went to the button on her jeans, but he stopped her.

  “Ne speshi,” he murmured, urging her to slow down. Everything else with them was a rush, but he wanted this to last. He wanted to savor every sensation, every sound, every touch. He wanted to imprint something lasting in her memory, to show her that she could trust herself with him, even in this.

  In his eyes, she was worthy of worship, of appreciation, and he would use every tool at his disposal to show her how he felt, even pleasure.

  He bent and tongued her nipple through the lace. Holding her in his arms while she gasped and twisted in pleasure was the best thing he could have ever imagined. Her lithe body responded to his every touch, and like a dance, her moves called forth answering waves of arousal in him.

  Covering her body in kisses and caresses, he managed to remove both their pants. Clad only in boxers, he sat up and unzipped a small pouch sitting on the side table, revealing condoms, lube, a silk blindfold, and a small, bullet-shaped magenta vibrator. When Jess shot him a surprised look, he jerked one shoulder, suddenly feeling awkward. “I didn’t know what you preferred, so I wanted to have some options.”

  Her gaze softened. “Are you this thoughtful about everything?”

  “I try.” His tone was serious. “I don’t jump into things lightly, Jeshka.”