All for the Mirrorball

Chapter 28 - Holy Hell

The studio was still waking up when Ilona arrived, water bottle in hand and her bag slung over her shoulder. She spotted Alan already stretching near the mirrors, his grin appearing the moment he saw her.

"I got us extra shots to help us survive this one," he said as she dropped her bag on the floor.

"Thank god," she said as she leaned over to grab her coffee. She resisted to urge to kiss him even though it was beginning to feel reflexive - casual.

After a few minutes of stretching, chatting, and sipping their coffee, Alan gave a mock bow, extending his hand toward her. "Shall we?"

The studio was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the soft scuff of their shoes on the floor as they worked through their waltz. The sweeping movements were delicate, almost tender, and the vulnerability of it left Ilona feeling exposed in a way she wasn't entirely used to. Alan's steady guidance grounded her, though, his hands light but sure as he led her across the room.

"Beautiful," he said softly, catching her gaze as they paused mid-spin. "Keep that softness in your arms - it's perfect."

Ilona nodded, her cheeks warming under his praise. They ran through the routine twice more, smoothing out the transitions and working on perfecting their lines until Alan finally called for a break.

After a quick stop at crafty for another of his unhinged food choices, he looked up at her with a playful glint in his eye. "Ready to heat things up?"

She smirked, already feeling the shift in the air as they moved into the paso doble. The fiery, dramatic style was a stark contrast to the tenderness of the waltz, and she squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze with unspoken challenge.

"You have no idea," she said, stepping into position with a sharpness that matched the intensity of the dance.

Alan raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Prove it." The rasp of his voice did something to her.

They began, the music's pounding rhythm setting the stage for a battle of wills. Alan's lead was strong, his movements commanding, but Ilona wasn't about to back down. She met him step for step, her movements sharp and deliberate, her gaze locked on his.

The tension between them was insane, every turn and twist charged with an energy that felt almost combustible. As they neared a particularly dramatic section, Alan caught her by the waist, spinning her, their faces mere inches apart. His hand pressed against her back, his breath warm against her cheek.

She smirked at him, her gaze flicking down to his lips.

"You're playing with fire," he murmured, his voice low and edged with teasing.

Her heart pounded, but she refused to let him see how much he affected her. "I thought that was the point?" she shot back, her lips curving into a sly smile as she pushed herself upright.

They continued, the dance becoming less about perfecting the choreography and more about who could push the other further without breaking. Alan's touches lingered just a second too long, his hands brushing her waist and shoulders with a possessiveness that made her pulse race. Ilona countered with long looks and deliberate flare, knowing exactly how to draw his attention - and enjoying the way his gaze darkened every time she did.

When they reached the end of the routine, Alan pulled her back up from the ground, their bodies so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. His hand slid up her back to rest just below her neck, his fingers pressing lightly against her skin. Her stomach flipped.

"You're good," he said, his voice rough and laced with something she couldn't quite name. "But I can feel you holding back."

Ilona tilted her chin up, her eyes narrowing as she held his gaze. "Maybe I'm just saving it for the real thing."