Rush’s glare grows nuclear when he sees that I’m wearing nothing underneath my white leotard but a G-string. He must have forgotten that dancers aren’t really bothered by being naked in front of other dancers, or maybe his dance school just wasn’t like that.
He strides over to the side of the room, grabs his sweater and brings it back to me, growling, “Put that on. Keep warm while I clear the room.”
I stare at him in surprise. Keep warm? Everyone’s sweating, even the people who are just here to watch.
Marlena gives me a baffled look, and I shrug as I pull Rush’s sweater over my head. It comes halfway down my thighs and I have to roll the sleeves back three times. Then I push the sleeves up my arms because I’m so goddamn hot. Dancers like to sweat, but this is ridiculous.
Rush is shouting at everyone who’s not needed right now to leave the room. The guys in the band and the others are staring past him, casting interested looks in my direction. I’d forgotten that there are more than dancers in this room.
“Rush, mate, we’re here for the dancing,” Wes protests, not quite hiding his grin.
“Yeah, right,” Rush mutters as he shoves him toward the door. They eventually leave, and Rush comes back to me, his expression still fierce.
“Can I take this off now?” I ask, plucking his sweater away from my body.
Rush glances around the room. All that’s left is Marlena and male chorus members sitting on the floor, waiting for their next scene. The female dancers are gathered around the clawfoot tub where they ready to help their Priestess bathe.
“Do they have to be here?” he asks, glaring at the male dancers.
“Rush, they’re dancers. It’s fine.” I wait, looking up at him, my mouth twitching. He’s the one who wanted me to dance this role so badly. My barely-there boobs are hardly going to cause a riot.
“Fine,” he growls, but with a final glare at them.
He didn’t need to do any of that. It’s pretty sweet, though. I draw his sweater up and over my head, and whisper under my breath, “Thank you, Daddy.”
Rush takes the sweater back from me, the intensity in his eyes doubling. I’m practically naked. The room’s got fewer people, but we’re not alone. Damn, I wish we were alone.
He follows me to the tub and I can feel his eyes boring into my back. He doesn’t touch me in this scene and it’s probably a good thing because one touch would have me moaning for him. I kneel in the tub and gaze up at him, and his eyes have me pinned in place.
“Rush, your mark’s over there,” Marlena calls.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” Rush moves away to one side, and my eyes follow him. It’s not until the music starts that I realize I’m supposed to be oblivious to him. I haven’t been oblivious to this man since he forcefully shouldered his way into my life.
It’s a short scene, more of mime than of dance. I bathe in the empty tub, my back to where the camera will be positioned. My attendants pour imaginary water from ornate pitchers over me and sprinkle rose petals.
Movement catches the corner of our eyes. A man is watching us from behind a piece of scenery. As one, my female attendants and I turn our heads sharply to look at him. The women hiss at him like cats, and Rush, suddenly frightened, stumbles and falls onto his back. There’ll be some after-effects added to make the women seem supernatural and hideous for a split second, and he rubs his eyes like he’s not sure if he imagined it. I grasp the sides of the tub, gazing at him with interest while my attendants swathe me with cloth to protect me from his unclean gaze.
“Perfect, thank you everyone,” Marlena says happily, and calls for a thirty-minute break.
I stand up from the tub and walk back to my things. I’m too hot to pull my leotard back on, so I grab a short, thin robe to wrap over my body. My phone is almost out of battery, so I head out of the room and upstairs to grab a charger cable. When I make it upstairs, I realize that I’m being followed.
By a big, annoyed, silver-blond man with black paint all over his torso. I don’t make it to my bedroom door before he grabs me and slams his mouth over mine. Rush’s tongue parts my lips and thrusts into my mouth. The heat from his body sears my through my robe.
He finally breaks the kiss. “Fucking hell, Dree.”
I can feel his fury and frustration in the way he strips the robe from my body, one arm wrapped around my waist and his other hand squeezing my breasts. I moan and arch into his hands. He can’t even wait until we’re inside my room.