Dance For Me (Strip in the City, Book 2)

20 • Hot Water

Tan

When I took this choreography gig, I told myself I could work with Dominick, but last night's fight proved otherwise. I wasn't able to be cool around him. I had too many unexpressed feelings bubbling over the surface, and I had to find a way to deal with them before I exploded again.

"I don't hate you. Not at all. Get that shit out of your head."

What did that mean? If he didn't hate me, then why was he acting this way?

My phone rang, and when I saw it was my mom, I very guiltily sent it to voicemail. I didn't want to answer eight hundred questions about how speech lessons with Krish were going and why I hadn't RSVP'ed to my cousin's engagement party. My mom thought these daily check-ins were helpful, but honestly, they were just anxiety inducing.

I sent her a quick text telling her I'd call her tomorrow right before I walked into rehearsal. When I pushed the door open, expecting to see Dominick sitting in the same folding chair he always sat in, I found it empty.

Emotions tumbled around inside me. Was I mad he wasn't here? Was I hurt that he hadn't come back?

The sound of water stole my attention from Dominick's empty chair, and I was shocked to find him pouring a bucket of water into a replica of the shallow pool installed at Blanche's. Fully equipped with mirror edges and a slick bottom for sliding.

This was a major upgrade from my inflatable kiddie pool and exactly what I needed to rehearse in.

Our eyes met across the room, and my breath caught in my throat like it always did. The intensity of his gaze pinned me in place. I'd been without his attention for so long that that I almost forgot what it was like to be on the receiving end.

The fine hairs on the back of my neck and arms stood on end as goosebumps formed on every inch of exposed skin.

He wasn't smiling, but he looked different today, and I thought it must be his clothes. Instead of a button-down shirt and dress pants, he wore a simple white t-shirt that showed off his rose vine tattoos and a pair of black joggers.

Without breaking eye contact, he tossed the bucket aside and set it tumbling across the wood floor—the sound echoed through the room until the bucket smacked against the wall.

The clattering noise went straight through me.

"What are you doing?" I asked, breathless. My heart beating like I'd just finished a challenging pas de deux.

A half smile formed on his face. "Waiting for you."

His deep voice and half grin turned my legs turned to jelly, and I had to give myself a mental shake.

Maybe the reason why he didn't smile very often was because it was too magnetic. Too warm. It drew too much attention to him. But sweet hell, his smile was beautiful, and it lighted the rest of his face, transforming him into a different person.

As much as I wanted to get swept away in this real-life fantasy where Dominick stopped acting like an asshole and started paying attention to me, he wasn't getting a free pass. I was past needing him to see me as more than twinkle toes, the tutu wearing demon. This one gesture didn't erase the way he acted toward me for the past two weeks and I was done chasing after him.

I crossed my arms. "You never join rehearsal. You sit in that chair like an angry block of ice."

The grin he was wearing widened as he stepped around the pool, slowly making his way to where I stood. His long strides deliberate.

"I'm not going to do that anymore," Dominick said. His voice was a rasp that scraped across my skin.

The closer he came, the closer I wanted him to be, but I had to stand my ground.