How could it get any better than this? I felt like the Pied Piper, my music making her my eager slave. Would she follow me anywhere?
“It was beautiful,” she whispered as I kissed the hollow of her throat, my mouth journeying toward her breasts.
“You’re beautiful,” I answered instantly.
She whimpered like the understated compliment was too much and leaned back, placing her hands on my knees. Her head tipped up to the ceiling, arching her body toward me, and it was miles of creamy, flawless skin. I trailed my palms up her sides and closed them around her breasts, holding her steady as I feasted, my mouth plucking at her hard nipples.
As I went from one to the other, “Should I play it again?”
“Only if you want me to break every rule and fuck you in this chair.”
I chuckled wickedly against the curve of her breast. “That should make our next rehearsal quite interesting.”
Her fingers laced together behind my head and pulled me until our foreheads were pressed together. Her words were weighted. “Thank you, Grant.”
I inhaled a deep breath to match her sincerity. “The pleasure was all mine.”
Time was limited, and Tara was too focused during rehearsal to make good on her threat of fucking me. She was a whirlwind as she danced, leaping and turning and sliding across the floor while I played.
Elena came out of her office to say hello at the start of practice and never left. She sat in the corner, her back against the mirrored wall, watching us. Watching Tara, really. I couldn’t blame her. Tara was absolutely captivating.
When she’d performed it all the way through the first time, she looked over at her friend for critique. Elena pressed her fingertips to her lips, unable to say anything, but her eyes spoke volumes. Finally, she moved her hand down to cover her heart.
Her voice was hushed but powerful. “It’s good. It’s really, really good.”
The smile that burst on Tara’s face was enormous, and I was grateful I was seated when she turned and directed the smile at me.
We spent the rest of the hour perfecting the routine. She remarked that she wanted to do it enough times that she couldn’t get it wrong.
The days before the audition were short, but it was likely because any time I got to spend with her seemed to fly by. I’d come back to my place, sweaty and tired from training with my teammates, and she’d arrive with dinner shortly after. I’d offered to buy, but the week leading up to audition she was on a regimented athlete’s diet, and it was easier this way.
“Next week, we’ll eat all the pizza you want,” she said on Thursday night, after we’d just finished our chicken and steamed vegetables. I put the empty takeout containers in the trash as she surveyed me from the kitchen table.
“I’d eat it for every meal if I could.”
She gave a half-smile. “I’ve had cold pizza the morning after. You can keep it.”
“Brilliant.”
I sat back down and watched her drum her fingers absentmindedly against the tabletop. She didn’t say them out loud, but I could read her thoughts. Less than forty-eight hours until the audition. I wanted to distract from her anxiety.
“What time are you planning to be at the theater?” I asked.
“Five. The doors don’t open until eight, but the line will probably be a mile long.”
“Would you like some company tomorrow night? We could go together in the morning.”
“Just invite yourself over, w
hy don’t you?” Her eyes sparkled with amusement, only to turn sincere. “I would love that.” She faked a stern expression. “But no shenanigans tomorrow. I need my sleep.”
“All right.” I lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll have to get those ‘shenanigans’ taken care of tonight, then, I suppose?”
She laughed like she thought I was joking.
“Oh, you’re serious, huh?” Her tone was playful and sultry.
“Get on the table.”