Don't Tell (Don't 1)

I began to push inside her, when my head reeled back. I lowered myself to her back, so she could tilt her hips upward. I slid so deep in her we both groaned at the intensity. I grabbed her hands and kissed her neck as I pumped in and out. Each thrust stronger than the last. And then we both began to jolt and shiver with the same momentum.

“Come with me, Natalia. Come all over me.”

“God, yes,” She whimpered. “Oui. Oui!” I felt the orgasm spiral through her as mine finally released me. I buried myself in her, claiming her, making her mine again.

“You’re mine,” I growled, hilting myself inside her.

“I am,” she whispered. “Don’t ever stop fucking me like this.”

“Don’t ever stop talking dirty.” I laughed.

I collapsed against her back, trying not to crush her with my weight.

She kissed my fingers.

“I know today has been full of surprises.” I rolled to my side and rotated her so I could see her beautiful face. “But I have one more.”

“You do?” She traced the side of my jaw.

“I’m in love with you.” It was the first time I had said the words and knew they were being said to the right person.

She smiled, her hands sliding around my neck. “I’m so in love with you.”

My lips crushed down on hers and I held her damp body against mine. I finally had her, and I wasn’t going to let go.

Epilogue

Natalia

Five months later

“Miss Natalia Dupont.” I sat on the bench behind the stage with my eyes closed. I could hear my name called over a small microphone. “Natalia Dupont?”

“Yes, yes. I’m here.”

I darted from the bench and motioned to the stage hand to let them know I was making my way from behind the curtain. I was in a fog, but I was walking through it. I had to walk through it. I had to push the doubts and the fears to the side with vicious kicks and shoves, or else they would trap me and suffocate me into paralysis. And that wasn’t an option today.

The three members of the ballet troupe auditions committee sat in the front row, each holding a clipboard. I hoped to see a familiar face—someone who would remember me from a year ago—but they were strangers.

The man in the middle spoke. “It says here you are performing an original piece.”

“Yes, that is correct.” I hoped my voice didn’t sound as shaky to them as it did in my head.

I had been here before. Two years ago, I was a part of this exact audition. I had been selected from that performance and spent the year working to become prima ballerina. It almost seemed unfair that I had to start over, but I couldn’t focus on those things. Life wasn’t fair.

I was stronger now. Stronger because I had to struggle. Stronger because I had to work through my injury. Stronger because I survived as a Goddess and made it on my own. Looking back, all of those things seemed so clear to me.

“Are you ready to begin?” He pulled his glasses to the bridge of his nose and scribbled something on the paper. I wished he would make eye contact with me, but he was reading my bio.

“I am. Thank you.” I pranced to the center of the stage and smiled when the lights dimmed.

The fear evaporated as I raised my hands toward the ceiling and held my pose, waiting for the music to begin. I heard the slight crackle of the record before the piano and violin started.

This was home. This was where I belonged. The music flared to a crescendo and I took off across the stage.

It didn’t matter that it was March in Texas, the sun hit me in the face when I opened the back door to the theater. I dug through my bag for my sunglasses and walked across the parking lot.

Sam stood with his feet planted solidly on the asphalt and his arms folded, making his biceps flex to epic proportions.