I want to walk in it by her side. I don’t want her to recoil from me, or wince or clench her teeth when I claim her. I want her to want me.
Piercing my own eyes with hers, I say, “I want you to dance for me.”
At first she just stares at me but then she eases. “That’s it?”
Nodding I answer, “That’s it.”
Not even squirming, she says, “I’ll do it. I’ll dance for you.”
But she doesn’t sound as relieved as she should. She should be crying tears of joy and jumping up and down from not having to sleep with me but instead she seems...disappointed. Inwardly I grin, because she is taking this the wrong way.
It is not that I don’t want her. I want her. But I want to have her because she wants me back. Not because she is frantically trying to save the worthless life of that friend of hers.
“Tomorrow,” I continue, “you will come by my manor at nine o’clock sharp. I will have my driver take you.”
Lyla doesn’t protest and it’s settled. I already cannot wait.
Once she’s polished her dessert, I grab her coat and help her put it on, letting my hands linger on her shoulder longer than necessary. But they are so frail that I fear they’ll crush under my palms and quickly take them away.
Turning her head to the side, she glances at me, her mouth open but she lowers her gaze when our eyes meet. Putting my hand on her lower back, I lead her outside and first thing she does is take a deep breath and I feel her muscles relaxing.
Frowning I wonder, whether she secretly was tense with me in there. In that case she hid it well but my frown deepens when I remember how twitchy her movements sometimes were or how she glanced around as if expecting that the whole brotherhood was going to come in and start firing bullets.
My jaw clenches. What, does she think I am going to hurt her? Despite my efforts of trying to come across as harmless?
“Are you scared of me, Lyla?” I ask suddenly, dreading her answer and her eyes widen.
“No,” she says and she sounds like she means it. “Not anymore. I’m just not used to men like you.”
There are no men like me. The few who were similar to me are already long gone and the ones who try to emulate me but fail, I make a point of finishing myself. That is also how I have managed to stay the head of the brotherhood throughout the years.
“And...” Lyla continues, “you are dangerous, aren’t you?”
“Not to you,” I answer in a grave voice, lifting my hand to stroke her temple, expecting her to flinch but she doesn’t and I add, “But I am going to have to give you a fair warning, little ballerina.”
Her eyes widen, her lower lip quivering, “What is it?”
“If you do not kiss me, I am going to have to kiss you.”
She gasps but doesn’t move and I bend my face to hers. “Then you give me no choice,” I rasp and cup her chin, positioning her mouth to where I want it and slant my lips over hers. Her body goes limp and she almost slides out of my grip and I take a firmer hold of her. I make her kiss me like nobody is watching, like we are not in the middle of a street and I groan when her fingers thread into my hair, nails scraping against my scalp.
Our mouths clash, cancelling each other out, exploiting and draining for more until it feels like steam is coming out of my ears. I need her I just do and I cannot explain it. I don’t need to explain it, I simply accept it for what it is.
When she pulls away from me, she pants, looking at me as if she is angry with me for doing this to her, but I push her against my groin, letting her feel me hard and her eyes flutter from desire.
I want to smile because it means she needs me too.
9
Lyla
This time going to Dolokhov’s house feels different and I suspect it isbecause of our kiss that shook me to my core and straightened me out again. This time I’m not terrified and about to have a meltdown. This time I’m...excited and maybe a little nervous. Or well...I’m still nervous because it’s Alec after all.
If any of the other ballerina’s knew what I was about to do, they would freak out. They’d probably warn me that I was going to end up dead before dawn or something. But I don’t think Alec would ever hurt me, I really believe that.
Yesterday he showed me a different side, one that made me see him in a different light. I had a stereotypical view of mobsters, thinking they are all monsters on the inside but Alec is no monster. Being with him yesterday was...fun.
He talks but he listens ever more, he smiles and sometimes he bursts out into a laughter that makes me feel the vibrations of it deep into my body. His eyes are focused, he rarely blinks but I don’t find it as unnerving as I did when we first met.