Sweet Sinful Nights(52)

He clasped her hand and walked her down the stairs, leaving her home far behind them.

*

It worked. It always worked with Brent. His touch erased the bad. His mere presence made her start to feel good again. To feel happy. To feel hope. She loved who she could be with him. And she wanted to be that woman tonight. Not the woman who’d lost so many pieces of her family, young and old, leaving her with just memories in frames.

Memories she’d have to share soon enough.

For now though, for this second in time, as she slid into the town car with him, she was the woman she wanted to be.

There would be time to say all those things.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Her mind was officially blown.

She’d seen countless ballets and watched thousands of modern dances, but Alvin Ailey had been her favorite since she was a girl, and also her fantasy. While other dancers dreamed of becoming a prima ballerina, Shannon had pictured herself in a starring role in the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater. The company’s modern ballet style and athleticism had always spoken to her. As a young kid on the outskirts of town, growing up in a broken-down neighborhood, she’d been determined to dance her way out of her circumstances, and to win a spot in a prestigious company.

That had never happened, and while she’d moved on, picked herself up, and carved out a career that she loved, a small piece of her heart still longed to be the one on stage, still wished to captivate an audience as she herself had just been captivated.

As they neared the end of the show, the dancers moved with such passion, such exuberance that her heart was full, overcome with their joy in movement. She squeezed Brent’s hand in the darkened theater. He’d been such a trooper. She knew he wasn’t innately a dance fan. Most men weren’t. Hell, her own brothers didn’t go to the theater with her. And while she doubted Brent had personally delighted in the production, the mere fact that he’d taken her, watched with her, and focused on the stage meant the world to her.

He had stepped up from the second she’d shown up at his club last week to apologize. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he’d do whatever it took to win her back. He’d been honest, and open, and giving, and everything she’d known him to be. All the more reason for her to lay her cards on the table tonight. Well, tomorrow. Because she was pretty damn sure tonight was going to turn into an all-nighter with him. She had no desire for this date to end. She wanted it to unfurl through the darkness, and roll on into the sunrise.

After the euphoric finale on stage, she was the first to her feet, clapping and calling out bravo. Then she threw her arms around Brent’s neck, and planted a quick kiss on his lips.

“Thank you. I loved every second of it,” she said, standing on tiptoes. “I feel like I’m floating on cloud nine.”

A dancer’s high.

“I’m so happy to hear that,” he said, his expression earnest. There was no teasing, no joking. He really had wanted her to be happy, and hell if that didn’t make her heart beat in overdrive for him.

They clapped once more during the final curtain call. She picked up the thread of the conversation as the audience started to shuffle out, the bright lights flickering on in the Luxe Theater. “Even if it did make me feel the tiniest pang of regret right here,” she said, tapping her chest.

“I hope it wasn’t too hard for you.”

She shook her head. “Nope. Just makes me a little sad every now and then that I can’t do that anymore. But that’s all,” she said, as she ran her fingers along his arm. She squeezed his hand as they exited the row, replaying her words—can’t do that anymore. While she might not be able to dance like those performers on stage had—leaping, stretching, soaring beyond the atmosphere—there were other ways to dance. Oh yes, there were many other ways to move.

She tugged him close to her against the edge of the aisle seat. The crowds filtered by as she leaned in, whispering in his ear. “But I can dance for you. The way you like.”

Noise filled the theater. The chatter and hum of the crowd. The music that ushered the patrons out the door. The sound of shoes on carpets, of seats folding up, of phones buzzing. But beneath all that, she heard the sexiest groan escape his lips, a low rumble that came from deep within his chest. It touched down in her nervous system, and sent the desire that had been on a simmer all evening to a flashpoint.

Her pulse doubled. Her belly flipped. Want engulfed her.

“Now,” he said, his voice a husk.

“Do you want to come back to my—” she began, but he cut her off.

He produced a gleaming white key card from his back pocket. “I was hopeful,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

She adored that hope in him. She adored it for so many reasons. Because he had so much of it, because he could call on it whenever he needed to, and because he’d always freely shared it with her. His brightness, his happiness, his luck.

“Your hope will be rewarded, you handsome man.”

She’d take some of his luck tonight and make it theirs.

*

The elevator doors whooshed shut.

He was a coil, tightly wound. He grasped her face and kissed her hard as he backed her into the corner, in clear view of the camera that was surely watching anyone in the lift.

He didn’t f*cking care.

They were alone.