Then he came. A hard, hot jet inside of her. “Only…” he growled.
She didn’t hear the rest of what he said. Her racing heartbeat drowned out the words, but she knew.
Only me.
Trace shuddered against her. He’d come, she’d felt that release, but he kept thrusting.
The pleasure didn’t end.
She’d never felt this way with anyone else. Never wanted and wanted and had her whole body explode with pleasure, one shattering climax after the other.
No one else.
Only Trace.
She hadn’t given him the words. But then, she didn’t need to.
He already knew.
Only me.
***
Rehearsal was always a chaotic time. Dancers swirled around the stage. Choreographers jumped in, corrected, advised. The director was there, shouting orders in the background.
It seemed both incredibly familiar and oddly foreign as Skye stood in the shadows, watching everyone else. It was barely past seven a.m., but, of course the dancers were working. By this time, they would have been working for at least two hours.
Sweating. Flying. Dancing until their muscles trembled.
This had been her life.
Without it, she’d been lost.
“Skye?” She recognized that voice, with its faint English accent. She’d known that Robert Wolfe would be there—since he was the lead choreographer, he had to be there. And Trace had been determined to question Robert. But…
Robert isn’t doing this to me.
She didn’t want to suspect him.
She turned at his call, her shoulder brushing against Trace’s. They hadn’t spoken much that morning. She’d felt too raw, too overexposed after last night.
Just how fast did you tumble into bed with him? The question whispered through her mind. The answer? Fast. Very. Very fast.
A broad smile split Robert’s handsome face as he hurried toward her. He was sweating, the shine gleaming on him, because he’d been working with the dancers. He rushed toward her and wrapped her in a tight hug, sweat and all.
“I knew you’d come back,” Robert said as he squeezed her even tighter. “You just needed time. You just—”
“I-I’m not here to dance.”
He stopped squeezing her. Robert pulled back, but didn’t release her. He stared down at her, a faint line between his perfect brows.
Robert was tall, with a strong dancer’s body. His blond hair was brushed away from the strong planes of his face, and his tanned skin gleamed under the lights.
“You can let her go now,” Trace ordered him. But then Trace didn’t wait for Robert to comply. He pulled the other man away from Skye.
“Jeez, Skye, picked a jealous lover, eh?”
She could feel the blush on her cheeks. Skye cleared her throat. “We…we need to talk. Somewhere private.”
Robert’s face hardened. “Something’s wrong.”
Something had been wrong, for a very long time.
“The dressing rooms.” He motioned toward the right. “While everyone’s rehearsing, they’re empty.”
She knew the way, so Skye started walking first. She’d only taken a few steps when she realized exactly what Robert was doing.