Lead and Follow(61)

He could float away too. Let all the softness and all the sensation drag him away until he didn’t question, didn’t look down the road. Didn’t plan. Just accepted what he had. That ought to be enough.

The words spilling out of her mouth began to sound like taunts. He needed all of her, and he needed to be the man she loved. Not some near miss. It was more than he could take. The kiss he claimed was fierce. He pushed them up over the sleepy place where they had wandered together.

He slammed into her. Deeper. Harder.

She yanked her mouth away from his and came, voicing her pleasure to the dark in a rough groan. The tugs of her wet cunt on his dick pulled him toward orgasm. Pleasure jerked out his spine, loosened his joints. Took away the last of his senses.

He gathered her close. He tucked her head under his chin, the better to keep her from looking at him. Bad enough that his chest panted on harsh breaths. She didn’t need to see what was undoubtedly written on his face.

He needed her love too. It wasn’t ever going to be enough to love on his own.

He’d spent the last twenty years trying to earn his parents’ love. Their approbation depended on his continuing to dance when that same career had disappointed them. Doing better. Being more. Rising higher. He didn’t resent his parents, but neither could he put himself in such a lopsided position again. Dependence never led to love.

If she still harbored any doubts about his dependability as her partner, or if they looked down the road toward different professional goals, they didn’t even have dance anymore.

Her hands petted his biceps. The wet swipe of her tongue glossed over his clavicles. “Salty.” Her jaw cracked on a huge yawn. “We’re going to have to shower before yoga and after.”

Did she just assume things would go on as they always did? Holy Mother, he couldn’t cope with that.

He kept stroking her hair and shoulders and the glorious slope of her back long after she’d fallen asleep. Streetlights shifted yellowed patterns on his far wall. A cab came and went, followed by a couple of giggling girls. The downstairs neighbors slammed a door.

The whole time Dima lay awake. Thinking. No matter the avenues and byways he traveled, he couldn’t figure out how to fix it. How to keep and care for his Lizzie, without losing himself along the way.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but at dawn his eyes snapped open and he knew what he needed to do.

Lizzie slept half on top of him, including him in her usual sprawl. Her face was buried against his ribs, her arm thrown across his waist. One of her bare legs weighed across his thighs. Smooth skin rubbed over his knee. Pale blonde hair shielded her face.

It was like waking in heaven, but knowing he would be sent back to purgatory, as soon as she opened her eyes. She would smile and everything would be strained and uncertain again, except they might get to sleep together on occasion. Best when a handsome cowboy was involved.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

She would stop following him soon. Because he was bound to fuck it all up. Hell, it was half the reason he wanted off the competition circuit. To go out on top, before the inevitable fall that had slowly claimed his parents. Before he hurt Lizzie’s other knee. Maybe next time he’d bust her ankle or something worse—keep her from dancing ever again.

Lizzie had to suspect it too, even when dangling a tempting carrot in the form of Paul. She hadn’t wanted him talking with Svetlana, so she’d enticed Paul into pulling him away. If Lizzie really wanted something more from him, she’d have made it happen. Maybe when he’d all but put his heart on that diner table. Perhaps she too saw an expiration date on their partnership.

Unwinding himself from that gorgeous pile of womanhood was almost impossible. When he unhitched her hand from his hip, he thought her yawn meant she was waking up. He froze, because he was such a fucking coward sometimes.

Her muscles eased and she melted back into the mattress, letting him slip away. He pulled the sheet up over her shoulders. That was practically a kindness to himself, not her, because he wouldn’t need to look at the perfect globes of her ass.

His instinct was to slide so easily into their old patterns. Yoga together, breakfast—all the little things that had constructed their life for so long. No. He’d already been living in a half-way land for too long. Putting his relationship with Lizzie above everything else made no sense when she didn’t see him in the same way.

In silence he pulled on some clothes and gathered his wallet and keys. Leaving the apartment left him at loose ends. The city bustled around him, most people headed off to work, briefcases in hand or messenger bags slung over their shoulders. They all held coffee cups.