Ballet Shoes and Engine Grease by Tatiana March Read Free Book Online

over
her upraised leg, he reached down with his right hand to undo his
flies.
    “ Let me in,” he growled. “Now.”
    She shifted her hips, found
him , adjusted her
position to allow him entry. He sank deep inside her. Glorious,
tight heat. She was standing poised on tiptoe, in a ballerina pose,
equalizing their height. He flexed his hips. Releasing his hold on
her upraised leg, he cradled her face between both hands and kissed
her. She kissed him back, greedy, openmouthed kisses.
    Small, sharp teeth tugged
a t his lips. Fighting
kisses. Crazy kisses. Her upraised leg came down to curl over his
hip, trapping him in place. Urging him on. Not interrupting the
kiss, he lowered his hands to her waist and hauled her close to
him, one arm sliding around her, the other hand clasping her
buttocks, and then he started moving in and out of her in a fierce,
hammering rhythm. The door rattled against the frame and, as their
frenzy escalated, the sound grew into a loud, frantic
slamming.
    Somewhere, on the other
side , he heard
footsteps, voices shouting.
    Nick didn’t care. His whole world had narrowed to the delicate
strength in his arms, to the pulsing, slick heat that surrounded
him. Crimson tipped her head back, finally separating their mouths.
She broke into harsh, sobbing breaths. Once more. Twice more. He
thrust deep inside her. Tight around him, he felt her convulse in a
violent climax that made her body arch against the door. He
followed, pumping his release into her in powerful jets as hot
waves of pleasure consumed him.
    Finally, sanity returned.
    “ It’s all right,” he shouted. “Just moving
the furniture.”
    “ Righty-ho.” He recognized Raymond’s
gravelly voice. Someone, perhaps the pretty brunette secretary who
had given him directions to the boardroom, must have called the
security guard when the strange noises broke out and the door
started rocking on its hinges.
    “ You need any help?” the old man
asked.
    Nick studied Crimson, who lay limp in his arms. “I don’t think
so,” he called back. He wanted her to look up, look at him. In
those few hectic minutes, she seemed to have stolen his very soul.
And he wanted it back. Wanted to shake off the scary tenderness
that was even at this very moment weaving its way around his
heart.
    He pulled a cotton handkerchief from his pocket. Untangling
their bodies, he pushed away from her and bundled the fabric
between her legs. “Cleaning crew,” he said, the crude remark
intended to kill off any lingering sense of romance.
    She was still breathing hard. Refusing to meet his
gaze.
    “ Do you realize I could just walk out now?”
he taunted her.
    Her lashes lifted. A ray of steel entered
the languid brown eyes. “Feel free,” she told him. “I’m not on the
pill. No health issues, but if you don’t hang around to deliver
what you’ve promised, you can spend the next six months watching my
waistline, wondering…”
    The prospect hit him l ike a punch in the gut.
    Game, set and match to the dancer.
    “ Truce,” he said. “I’ll deliver my end. Let
me know when your period starts.”
    She finished tidying herself up and offered the handkerchief
back to him. “I guess you’ll want to collect the incriminating
evidence.”
    “ Of course.” He raked a glance over her,
amused despite the tension of the situation. “Better take the dress
too. Think of Monica Lewinsky.”
    “ In your dreams.” She pushed past him to
collect a sports bag from the row of seats by the table and pulled
out a pair of pink sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Nick clasped the
soggy cloth in his hand and watched her yank the clothing on over
her slip, her motions jerky, unsteady. She was pointedly ignoring
him. He felt oddly bereft. As if he had somehow made a mess of
things and he would be the one to suffer for it.
    “ Well, I guess, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he
told her, hesitant.
    “ There’s a staff meeting at ten o’clock. Be
there.” She picked up the bag, unlocked the