Her long, gracious fingers clenched around the tie on the bathrobe. Her stomach lurched with nerves. Blaze frowned, trying to work out why she was feeling… well, so damn shy all of a sudden. She’d never been self-conscious about her body in her life. Blaze knew she was in good shape, with not an ounce of fat on her, her muscles lean and defined. Okay, she wasn’t exactly a knockout in the… rack department, but that had never bothered her before. Big breasts would only have gotten in the way when she danced, and that had always been the most important concern in her life. But this morning, Blaze found herself wishing that instead of her half handfuls, she had a little bit more ‘action’ going on up top. Lord only knew how many women Fabien had slept with. She’d hate for him to look at her and find her lacking. Or, maybe, not too feminine, even. She sneaked a glance at the bronze figure she’d admired earlier. ‘Bronze Lady’ definitely had breasts. A g
Blaze’s breasts strained upward, and he could see her ribs expand and contract with every breath. Once again, Fabien was hopelessly torn between admiring her skill, wanting to capture her perfection on paper, and needing to touch her so badly his groin was aching with it. ‘Start drawing, you moron. You know very well that is going to be like this all morning. The sooner this painful session is over, the sooner you can have your sanity back.’ Holding his pencil in a death grip, Fabien started to sketch. An hour later, he’d captured a dozen poses and sustained a hard-on for longer than he’d thought was humanly possible. No matter what he told himself, or how many times he lost himself in the discipline of translating what his eye saw through his hand onto the page, his animal need, his carnal yearning for Blaze hummed constantly in the background. By the time he put down his pencil and shut his sketch pad, Fabien was literally shaking w
He groaned, a low sound that snapped her into focus. Heat rushed up her body, sending prickling tendrils beneath her armpits and the back of her neck before filling her face with warmth. Eyes glued to Fabien's trembling body, Blaze took a step backward, her shaking hand reaching for the door handle as she pulled it shut behind her. “Oh, my God...” she murmured. Her knees were weak. She felt hot, as though she’d been rehearsing for hours. She fanned herself, then suddenly remembered that Willow was waiting on the phone. The receiver was still in her left hand. She lifted it to her ear. “Uhm… Willow, I’m sorry, could you wait a second more?” Her voice came out as a croak. “He is just… getting out of th
It was late when Fabien eased the front door open. He paused on the threshold, listening. The apartment was silent. Blaze had gone to bed. Good! He carried the foldaway camp bed his sister had loaned him inside and propped it against the wall. Willow had raised an eyebrow when he’d asked if he could borrow it. His explanation was that he had an old friend staying for a few days but that hadn’t gone far toward satisfying her curiosity. She kept asking questions until he left her apartment. As Fabien suspected, Willow’s crisis was about the latest babysitter the agency had sent and that problem had been resolved in the first hour. Willow had really only wanted a stand-in for her absent husband, a shoulder to cry on while she expressed her fury and disappointment that her little girl had once more, been let down and misunderstood. Her gratitude had slowly turned to curiosity as the hours wore on and he’d stayed to help bathe Timéo and Mar
Despite the fact that it must have been years since he danced professionally, his form was perfect as Fabien began to spin on his left foot, his right leg raised and bent at the knee as he demonstrated a fouetté. His right leg whipped around his body again and again as he spun, powering his turns, while his arms were held extended at shoulder height.“Oh, yes! I remember now!” Blaze exclaimed. The sequence spilled into her mind in an unbroken chain. The ‘grand jeté’, followed by the increasingly frantic fouettés, then the despairing collapse and surrender at the end. Fabien stopped, barely breathing hard from the exertion.“You still got the old moves, Fabien,” she said admiringly.
She’d always loved Latin. When she’d first started out as a professional dancer, she and her friends would seek out the small Latin-American nightclubs in London and spend the night dancing for fun instead of perfection and achievement. Fabien used to come with them, she remembered. She’d loved matching her moves to his to the demanding beat of rumba or samba. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d danced for fun until she was sweaty and laughing and exhausted. Too long… Even before her injury, her life had become so defined by her career and her position within the company that her world had shrunk to rehearsal, performance, and more rehearsal. A particularly bitter gust of wind reminded her that it was too cold to be standing around. She returned to the street, but the rhythm of the music stayed with her. For some reason, Blaze felt calmer, more settled. If she hadn’t heard the music and seen the dancers, she probabl
The ‘Tropikana’ was packed with people and throbbing with loud music as Fabien pushed open the front door. Blaze bumped into him as he halted to let a couple of women pass by. Fabien stood to one side to make room for her in the crowded foyer. He watched as she tackled the buttons on her coat, knowing already what was beneath it. He’d stared like a fucking schoolboy when she’d stepped out of the bathroom half an hour ago, her new dress swirling around her legs. Slim straps accentuated the delicate lines of her shoulders, while the tight bodice outlined her breasts. He’d known instantly that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts moved with each step, and the gentle, pouting outline of her nipples was visible against the silk. Blaze was his own personal mermaid, se
They exited into a small, cobblestone courtyard. A single light illuminated the far corner. “Blaze…” he whispered. She tugged Fabien into the shadows and pressed herself against him, desperate to finish what they’d started on the dancefloor. He didn’t need to be asked twice. His hands cradled her head, his fingers delving into her hair. Blaze heard the faint clatter of hairpins falling to the ground as Fabien kissed her, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. Her hair fell over her shoulders, and he grabbed two fistfuls of it and used it to haul her head back and deepen their kiss. Fabien pressed closer and she could feel his hard-on throbbing against her stomach. Her whole body was shaking with need. She clutched at his shoulders, digging her fingers into the muscles of his back. He released her head, one hand shifting to cover her breast, the other to cup her backside. Blaze forgot to breathe as his thumb brushed over her nipple th