His mouth was perfect. Hot and soft, yet firm enough to—oh my God, was that his tongue?
As he urged her lips apart, Michaela was torn between falling into the kiss and struggling away from him, but his arms held her tight. Bent over in a low tango dip, she had nowhere to go. His hands were firm behind her head and at the base of her spine and he tilted her head a little more to better access the depths of her mouth.
Damn, it shouldn’t be this good.
Her hands on his chest, she thought about beating against his strong pectorals, but as he continued to kiss her all thought of struggling weakened along with her knees. Lucky he was holding her. Just when she thought she might start dripping into a puddle of hot need if the kiss went on any longer, he pulled his mouth back from hers and raised her to standing.
“Wh-what the…” She slapped him hard across the face, even while part of her wanted to pull his head down and kiss him all over again.
“Just proving a point,” he said, holding his jaw and smirking at the rest of the crew. Michaela opened and closed her mouth, her blush covering her whole body.
“Not necessary,” George said, flashing a warning look at Dylan.
“It wasn’t for you,” Dylan growled. He looked at the other male dancers.
“That was…completely inappropriate. I could have you up on sexual harassment charges,” Michaela finally managed.
“Oh no, oh dear, we don’t need that. It was just a simple misunderstanding, wasn’t it Dylan?” George asked. He nudged Dylan.
Finally, Dylan’s shoulders softened, but the fire didn’t go out of his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “My apologies.”
“There we go. No harm done.” George swept in and spun Michaela in a twirl. “Perhaps we’ll have you join the entertainment team when you have time off from bossing us all around. You’ve been hiding a secret talent from me.”
No one laughed, and Michaela felt every eye on her as she straightened. “Well done again, everyone,” she said, and turned to clap for the bandmaster and his band. “And what a great sound you all have this season.” Everyone turned to look up and clap for the band, which was nestled on the upper floor, stage left, looking down over the stage and the audience. “And now,” Michaela continued through the thick, awkward tension, “I think it’s time for dinner.”
“Let’s be civilized and shower first,” George said. “Not that you show you’ve even raised a sweat,” he said to the twins. “Oh, to simply glow like a girl.”
Michaela was still furious both at herself and at Dylan, but with George’s concerted effort, the tension eased. “Come on, don’t stand about all night,” he chided. “Shower, eat, sleep. I want you rested and ready for tomorrow. You’re all going to be fabulous.” George bustled about like a mother hen, and finally the dancers began to smile again.
“Coming to shower then?”
The question came from a young dancer from London, and Michaela started when she realized it was aimed at Dylan. She tried not to glare at the girl, but Dylan waved her off in any case. “I’ll make my own way down, thanks. See you at the canteen.”
The dancer pouted her lips, and Michaela saw Dylan nod discreetly in her direction.
“Yes, George is right,” Michaela said sharply. “Go eat. The guests are counting on you being amazing, so don’t let them down.”
Everyone trailed out, but the lingering taste of Dylan on her lips made Michaela slow. Perhaps Dylan felt the same, because he followed her up the stairs. She noticed and stiffened as he came up to her.
“No hard feelings?” he asked.
Oh, an apology of sorts. Why had she thought it would be something else? “Hmm,” she managed.
“I just figured it’s best to clear these things up.” His face gave away nothing.
“Ha! Because everyone throws themselves at you, I guess?” She put a spike in every word.
Dylan shrugged.
“I’m sure a simple conversation would have sufficed.”
“I tried that. George was the only one who believed me, I could tell.”
“Nonetheless…”
“Yes. Well, sorry.” He seemed sincere.
The kiss had been too good, and it was all she could do to stop herself from leaning over and putting a hand to his face. God, what was she thinking?
Michaela tried changing tack. “I really did enjoy the performance. And George is right when he says I don’t give out compliments easily. You dance very well.” She half turned to leave.
“Thank you,” Dylan said, putting an arm out to stop her from going.
Was there something else? He wasn’t leaving. In fact, it felt like he was stalling to spend more time with her. Perhaps?
She thought about what had happened between them. She’d felt so rigid when they started dancing, she suspected he’d almost given up, but she’d managed to relax and then…then the kiss. It had felt…
The heat of his passion coursed through her body. The kiss had felt too good. Her eyes scanned him again. Damn, he didn’t have the right to be so hot, standing there all tall and powerful.
“Thank you,” he said, pulling her out of her memory. “For saving me from her.”
Michaela stopped in mid thought. “Saving you?”
“That young dancer has been trying to get her hooks into me ever since I said I wasn’t gay. I’m sure she’s nice,” he said a bit too quickly, “but I prefer my women… Well, I prefer women over girls.” The words came out a low growl.
That was definitely a well-used pickup line, and Michaela’s ego bucked. Of course. She’d simply been a convenient body to help demonstrate his masculinity. Even after she’d told him how she’d been burned by the captain. Even after she’d thought last night that he was…
That he was what? Different?
He wasn’t different. And even if he were, what would it matter?
Michaela tried to smooth down her prickles. Why did this man provoke such a rush of emotions in her?
Did you really think you had some special connection because he listened to you rant about your problems?
Maybe. He’d seemed genuinely interested, and what’s more, his advice had been pretty good.
Then there was the way he looked at her. The way he held her when they danced. The kiss. That would have been better under moonlight.
Enough, already. He was just a hot guy looking out for number one.