Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Folded against Alejandro’s chest, I clenched my eyes shut tightly, resisting an urge to crawl deeper into his embrace and cry for all the fear—and conversely, the bliss—that soaked my body. In the aftermath of our sex, my emotions tumbled, jumbled, and whirled all around. Up was down, backward was forward; nothing made sense except holding onto him.
Somehow, I managed to restrain my tears, tear myself from his arms, and reach for my clothes.
Within minutes, Del emerged into the room with the unhappy news that security already scoured the footage of the event and found no one in the audience with a camera of any kind.
After Del left, I lost it. Tears fell hard and fast. But silently. I hoped Alejandro never noticed.
Wishful thinking.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered as he swooped me up into his arms.
I had been too weak to fight Alejandro, especially when he felt so strong while he settled me against his solid body and in the shelter of his arms. As he kissed his way down my face, he was so tender, as if he knew exactly what I needed. He ripped right through my fragile barriers. I opened up to his whispered words and tender mouth…
Then he took my hand and led me out of the main house, down a pathway hidden by tropical plants and climbing ivy, softly lit by the full moon before pushing his way toward a luxurious cottage.
His private quarters.
Being alone with him when I was so emotionally raw…not smart. Downright scary, in fact. Even the idea made my heart skip and my palms go clammy.
Clutching my keys, I mumbled something about a fictitious early-morning practice and fled.
So, it’s done. Alejandro and I are over. Now, I need to get my mind off of the repeated messages he’s left since and focus on dancing. I have the biggest competition of my career to prepare for. He has a business to run. Why he continues to pursue me, I have no idea. We have nothing in common.
Except great sex.
“Earth to Shanna,” Kristoff jokes. “Are you with me?”
“Yes. Sorry. I have a headache.” That isn’t a lie actually…just not the whole truth.
“What should we do next about…the problem? Perhaps you should seek out a new partner.”
He looks so sad at the prospect. Something in my chest twinges, and I try to shove it aside, but that isn’t working.
“We don’t have time to talk about this now. You have to be at work in two hours, and I have to meet with the costumer shortly. Let’s focus on today.”
“Do you want to talk about what happened at Sneak Peek?”
As my brothers would say, oh, hell no. “Talking won’t win us any trophies. From the top.”
Using the remote control, I start the music again and get into position. Sighing, Kristoff assumes his pose and we dance for another grueling half hour.
Until the door to the studio swings open unexpectedly.
Alejandro strolls in looking dark and yummy and like a man with an agenda—one that starts with getting me out of my clothes.
I suck in a breath. “What are you doing here?”
“I assume your phone is broken, since you haven't returned my calls and messages.” He arches a brow. “So I decided to find you.”
“We’re practicing.”
The protest is automatic. His presence here, so unexpected, raises my defenses. Thank god. I need those barriers against him. If I spend another hour with the man, feeling as weak as I do now, I’ll collapse against him and…I shiver. I’ll be vulnerable to him. I might even admit that I care.
That’s not acceptable. My personal life can wait another handful of days, until after the California Dance Star is over.
“You’ll win because we will uncover who’s been blackmailing you,” Alejandro vows.
“The security tapes turned up nothing, you said.”
“That's true. And I assume the blackmailer hasn't contacted you, or you would have let me know.”
“Of course.” And I would, no matter how much talking to him tempts me to do more—the way I want to right now. “But I haven’t received anything so far. So we have nothing else to say.”
Alejandro’s expression tells me he can see right through my bluster and isn’t put off in the least. Damn him! Why can’t he be polite, like most people?
“How did you find out when and where we’re practicing?” I demand.
With a sweep of his hand, Alejandro outs Kristoff as the culprit.
I whirl on my partner angrily. “This is practice time, not social hour. What the hell were you thinking?”
“That if I refused to tell him how to find you, he would end my privileges at Sneak Peek."
I grit my teeth. Fabulous. Yet another example of a man thinking with his penis. Apparently, it never occurred to him—or he doesn’t care—that I didn’t want Alejandro to find me. I’m just not ready, and I don’t know how to deal with these feelings.