DID Carolina say what I think she just said?
“You won’t return to London then?”
She slowly shakes her head, her lips parting at the last second. “Wait. I’ll need to go back and get all of my stuff. Move out of my flat. But no, I’m done with the London Dance Company.”
“Are you sure?” I’m surprised. Dance was—is—her life. It’s all she’s ever talked about. All she’s ever wanted to do. She’s made it the entire focus of her life and now she’s willing to just … quit? “Why?”
“I don’t need it anymore.” She shrugs.
“And why is that?”
“Because I have you.” She takes a step forward. Then another one. Slowly approaching me. “I’ve been running away from my life since I was a child. Trying to get away from everything that made me, me. I wasn’t proud of being a Lancaster. I didn’t like my family and I didn’t like myself. So I became someone else.”
“Carolina,” I start, cutting her off. “Much of who you are is because of dance. You aren’t just your family. You became your own self too.”
“I know.” She takes another step closer. I can smell her. That same ocean scent, the one I can’t figure out where it comes from. A mix of her body wash and lotion? Her shampoo? Or is it just her? “And for once in my life, I like myself. I’m comfortable with who I am. That’s all because of you.”
She comes another step closer and reaches out, resting her hands on my chest, her fingers curling slightly in the soft cotton of my T-shirt. “Why would I leave that? This? You?”
“You want to stay here with me.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Yes.” She nods, her eyes gleaming.
I snag her waist and yank her to me, holding her close, the relief flooding me making me weak. Only this woman could do that to me. I’ve been strong for everyone and everything else for so damn long. “Thank God. I was going to demand you stay, even if I had to wait until you started making plans and buying plane tickets or what the fuck ever. Or I would’ve just followed you back to London and stayed with you until you were ready to come back to the States with me.”
“You would’ve done that for me?” She sounds surprised.
Nodding, I reach out to brush a stray strand of her hair away from her face. “My little dancer. I would follow you to the ends of the earth to keep you in my life.”
She presses her lips together for the briefest moment, as if she needs to contain all of her emotions to keep them from spilling out. “I love you.”
Finally. I’ve been waiting. Not wanting to push. After she got my words inked on her skin, I had to tell her how I felt. Too overwhelmed with the moment, unable to hold back. Her eyes had flickered then, and I knew, deep down, she felt the same way, it’s just hard for her to say it.
To finally hear her make that declaration feels pretty fucking amazing.
Cupping the side of her face, I stare into her eyes, noting how clear and shiny they are. “I love you too.”
“I didn’t disintegrate and turn to dust.” Her smile is tremulous. “I don’t know why it’s so scary to say those words. To feel that emotion for someone else.”
“Love is powerful. That’s why it’s so damn scary.” I brush my thumb across her lips, my skin tightening when they part and cling. “My feelings for you drive just about every fucking thing I do right now.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true.” I start to chuckle because I can’t help it. Everything is coming together perfectly after two long, hard years, and I’m ready to fucking celebrate. “The deal is done. They’re announcing it tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Her smile is beautiful. Full of so much joy that I crush her to me once more. “Oh, West. I’m so happy for you. I know you’ve been stressed.”
“Not anymore. Everything is finished. We were putting the final touches on the press release that’s going out tomorrow when you came home.” I like the sound of those two words.
Came home.
This woman is my home. There is nowhere else I would rather be than with her.
“We should celebrate,” she says as she pulls away slightly to look up at me. “What do you want to do?”
“Stay home with you, order in and drink Fontaine Champagne one last time before it belongs to someone else,” I answer truthfully.
Carolina lifts her brows. “Doesn’t it already belong to someone else?”
“Semantics, woman.” I lean down and kiss the tip of her nose. “Just indulge me.”
“Okay. That I can do.” She squeezes her arms around me, her hands slipping down until they’re sliding over my ass. “What’s up with the shorts and T-shirt look?”
“I was going to go for a run when I got the call,” I answer.
Her smile turns sly. Even a little naughty. “I can give you a workout.”
“What about your ankle?” We’ve had sex since the night of her injury—I can’t keep my hands off of her. But I don’t push too hard. She’s in pain and it’s awkward, and I’m content with just holding her most nights.
Well, I’m not necessarily content. I usually end up with a raging hard-on and the urge to conquer her like a fucking beast, but then I remember that she’s hurt so I leave her alone.
And jack off in the shower instead.
“It’s a lot better. I can put pressure on it now.”
I noticed she walks easier on it. No more limping around, and she never did try and use the crutches. I can’t blame her. “You’re not overdoing it, are you?”
“Not at all.” She shakes her head and pulls out of my hold completely, heading down the hall toward our bedroom. “You should follow me.”
I don’t even protest. I just do as she suggests, trailing after her down the hall, until we’re both in the bedroom and she’s directing me to sit on the edge of the mattress.
Again, I do as she says, letting her take control for once. Two of the four walls in the bedroom are nothing but windows and they’re both completely open, offering us a view of the entire city surrounding us.
But I’m not paying attention to the view outside. I’m watching the girl I love fall to her knees in front of me, her hands running up the tops of my thighs. “I’ve missed you. Missed this.”
“Missed what?” I play dumb on purpose, wincing when she tunnels her hand beneath my shorts and pinches my leg.
“Being with you. You’ve been very respectful of my injury, but I’m not completely fragile, West.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you. And you seemed tired some nights.” When we first got here, she slept for hours for at least three days straight.
“I needed to catch up. All I’ve been doing is dancing and performing and stretching and just … I never had time for myself. Ever.” Her eyes glow with sincerity. “You taught me how to slow down and take care of myself.”
That’s funny, considering I feel like all I’ve been doing for the last two years is taking care of the House of Fontaine and all the responsibilities that came with it. “I’m here for you, baby.”
“I do love it when you call me baby.” She rears up, her hand curling around the back of my neck, pulling me down for a kiss.
I drown in her taste. The stroke of her tongue against mine. I tug on her lithe body, pulling her up, taking her with me when I fall back on the bed with her sprawled all over me. Our mouths are still fused, our tongues busy, my hands wandering all over her. Sliding beneath the skirt of her black dress, running my fingers up the back of her firm thighs. Teasing along the edge of her panties, the heat of her already radiating. I’m sure she’s wet.
Soaked for me.
Quickly I flip her over, so she’s on her back, tugging at the front of her dress, catching a glimpse of the sleek black bra she has on. The fabric is smooth and shiny, trimmed with delicate lace. “Nice.”
“It’s new.” She shrugs out of her sleeves, the dress falling down, exposing the bra completely. “My panties match.”
“Need to see this.” I shift away and help her rid herself of the dress, whistling low as I take in what she’s wearing. “Fucking sexy.”
Her entire body flushes pink, but she doesn’t shy away or try to hide herself. “Thank you.”
“So polite.” I lean over her, pressing my mouth to the soft flesh just beneath her navel. She quivers beneath my lips, her fingers threading through my hair.
“This was supposed to be about you,” she protests as she starts to gently squirm, as if she’s trying to get away from my mouth. I wrap my hands around her hips, keeping her in place.
“But this is what I want.” I lift my gaze to hers. “You.”
