I swear I can see tears in her eyes, and I thank god for Clint and Owen, because I am about to be a lucky, lucky man for giving her this type of Valentine’s Day.

  “All for you.” I walk up to her and strip the straps from her shoulders, exposing her upper half and a see-through, black lace bra that I’ve never seen before. “Oh, Jesus.”

  Bending me head, I suck her already hard peaks through the rough material, causing Chloe’s knees to go weak. I catch her waist, holding her up as I nibble and bite at her sweet buds, all the while her moaning cries echoing off the walls. I pick her up and carry her to the bed, where I lay her down and move over her, grinding my rigid tool into her soaking wet stockings.

  “OW!” She cries out, and I know that’s not a good sound.

  “What’s wrong…OW—“ I place my hand down next to her and feel a sharp prick in my thumb. I jolt back, inspecting the tiny bubble of blood forming on my finger. “What the fuck?”

  I grab Chloe’s hand to lift her off the bed, and we both stare down at it. And then she bursts into the loudest laughing fit I’ve ever seen.

  I stare at her, confused and pissed because I still have a raging hard on going in my pants that hasn’t been taken care of.

  “What?” I question her, but she’s laughing so hard that her giggles have gone silent, only weeping every couple of seconds.

  When she finally catches her breath, she takes my hand in hers. “You put long stem roses on the bed!”

  I didn’t see her point. “Yeah, and…”

  “You know they have thorns right? That you either de-thorn them or put petals out…”

  "I didn't realize..." I trail off, feeling my face burning.

  "Baby, it's okay. It really is the thought that counts." Chloe chuckles and wraps her slim arms around me. I bury my hands in her hair and slide them down her back. "Ow!"

  "Sorry!" I turn her, and see the little nicks of blood marring her back. "Shit, I'm so sorry, baby. I hurt you. All I wanted was to be romantic and shit, make you feel good. Fucking Valentine's Day. This would happen."

  She pushes up on her toes and kisses my cheek. "It was romantic and perfect and all of those things. But Miles, I don't need a fairytale. All I need is you."

  She moves to the bed, carefully clearing the prickly roses, and then climbs on, laying back so that her inky locks fan out over my grey pillows. Chloe smiles, motioning for me to join her. As I lay on the bed, she straddles me, trapping my still very hard cock between her thighs.

  Kissing and sucking my neck, Chloe makes me feel like I might just come out my skin. I have to squeeze every muscle in my body to keep from coming, because I could, just from her sitting on top of me with all of our clothes on. She starts to move, grinding her wet heat down onto me. I have no idea how she's doing it, this multi-tasking of grinding, kissing and slowly unbuttoning my shirt, because all I can do is lay there like a vegetable and concentrate on continuing to breathe.

  "No more teasing." I grunt, sitting up and cradling her in my lap. In one swift move, I pull the dress straight off her body. The sight before me, Chloe in a lace bra and tights, does not do anything to cool the wildfire spreading up my spine. I pull those teasing cups down and lavish her nipples with my tongue.

  "Ugh, Miles." Chloe is squirming so hard in my lap that I'm afraid she's going to break one of her dainty hips. I flip her over, moving down her legs and ripping the tights at the seams.

  "You didn't need these, right?" I give her a wolfish grin, and I swear I can see a blush slide down her entire body.

  Once I get those off, I rip my own clothing off, wanting nothing more than to be skin-to-skin with her.

  "Are you ready for me, baby?" I know its rude and selfish not to properly warm her up, but if I'm not inside her soon I might die.

  "Yes..." Her breathless moan is the only answer I need. I can see how wet she is, her lust glistening on her inner thighs. Rolling on the condom, I get on my back.

  "Ride me. Take control." Chloe's eyes flash with need and heat, and I'm so rock hard that my cock is standing straight up, even as I lay on my back.

  She moves over me, encircling me with her hand to help guide me in. And just that tiny tug has my balls spiraling out of control. I am so wound up that I have to bite my nails into the palms of my hands. Her slick, tight pussy begins to inch down on my dick, and I have to hold my breath. Chloe is panting, meanwhile, her eyes drawn tight in pleasure and concentration.

  When she slides all the way down onto me, I can't help but curse. "Fuck, Chloe. Jesus."

  "You feel so good." I stare up at her, her hair wild and floating around her petite features. She's glowing, and everything about this moment is just perfect.

  I grab her hips and begin to move as she moves, back and forth, up and down. I meet her on each down stroke, the noises of our moans and our bodies slapping together only fueling my need for release. It doesn't take long before Chloe is right there beside me.

  "Yes, yes, yes," she chants. I want to see her let go.

  "Give it to me, baby. Come for me."

  She's shaking, her whole body tight with the exquisite bliss I know she feels right before the orgasm washes over her. I know because I feel it too when I'm with her. With a high-pitched moan, she comes, her body collapsing onto my chest, where I hold her liquid form tight. I drill up into her, letting myself buck and drive, straining to reach my own release.

  And then I'm shouting, emptying so intensely inside her tight heat that I think I might pass out.

  I roll us over, Chloe squished into the crevice of my arms, me still inside of her. Stroking her hair, we just smile at each other in the silent, calm house, music drifting in from the thin living room walls.

  I fall asleep like that, as close to her as I can be. Maybe Valentine's Day isn't as bad as I thought after all.

  25

  Chloe

  A muscle screams out in agony, causing me to stop with a jolt, grab my calf and wince in pain and frustration. I'd just been about to nail that turn.

  I've been in the studio for hours, the sun setting long ago, everyone out doing what college students did at 11 o'clock on a Thursday night.

  Me, though? I was practicing my audition solo. And had been for the past six hours.

  I had to fly to New York in a month to perform in front of a panel of esteemed judges, one that included the current Queen Bee of Ballet, Natalie Pinroe. Just thinking about her sitting there judging my turnout made me squirm with nerves.

  I roll out the cramp with my fingers and press repeat on the song once more, flying through the routine with more speed and less precision.

  As the song winds down, the door creaks open, causing me to jump. It's so late that I know no one else is in the building, and sometimes I get spooked when I’m here alone.

  But immediately I see him, and my heart flips right over in my chest. My blondey, walking with his strapping stride towards me. This reaction whenever I see him, I know it will never go away. My knees go all mushy, like I can’t stand straight, and my hands start to sweat, but my back and neck are all goosebumps. It’s like he reprograms my nerves and electric jolts them all at the same time.

  "What are you doing here?" I'm smiling so wide that my cheeks hurt, and I can't help but wrap my arms around Miles's waist as he walks up to me. Looking up at him, that bashful, sweet smile gracing his handsome face, I don't even remember that I'm sweating like a pig. He holds me close, the pink leotard and gauzy skirt I have one clashing wildly with his black sweatpants and winter coat.

  We mix, our dark and light sides.

  "I wanted to see my girl. I missed you. And if I got a private, VIP dance out of it, that would be okay too." He raises one eyebrow in a suggestive manner, and I have to burrow into his chest to hide my bemused expression.

  "You're so romantic, if not pervy at the same time. I just need to nail this choreography. I have to know this solo like the back of my hand before my audition in two weeks. I'm so nervous I could cry. And I never get nervous." Laying my cheek on the strong, bulging chest in front of me, the clean, soapy scent of Miles makes me feel a little bit calmer.

  "Nail it, huh? I can help you with that." I hit him when I look up to see that eyebrow still raised. "Seriously, you're going to do great. You're the best god damn dancer I've ever seen. And that's besides me, obviously, but..."

  I laugh and go to hit him again, except this time Miles catches my hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss. And my heart dips so low into my belly that I swear I don't think it’s beating anymore. I still can't believe sometimes that he's finally mine, that he's finally with me, choosing to love me. Even though, we haven't said that yet.

  He lets go of me, walking to the far wall without mirrors and shrugging out of his heavy winter coat and shoes. I smile confusedly. There is nothing more I want to do than have him take me home, get into bed and lay in his arms. But I have to practice, I need to burn the midnight oil, literally.

  "Enough practice for tonight. And don't whine at me. I think I'm an expert on when enough practice is enough, and you, princess, reached that moment hours ago. You need to loosen up."

  He trots to where my iPod is plugged in, scrolling through it until his face lights up. He clicks the screen, and the room is filled with some years-old pop ballad.

  Miles saunters to me and starts body-rolling, a crazy, goofy expression marking his face. I crack up into a fit of giggles at this six-foot-seven blonde god flailing his limbs in the middle of the studio. Suddenly, I'm being pulled, and Miles takes us into ballroom stance, flinging me around, doing crazy steps. I am laughing so hysterically that I end up giving myself the hiccups.

  Miles pulls away, running back over to the stereo as I try to hold my breath and stop the embarrassing gurgling noises that keep coming from my throat.

  A slow, sexy jazz beat fills the room, and the singer starts to croon just as Miles comes to stand in front of me. I hiccup again, my heart beating at a hundred miles an hour as he invades my space, his big, rough hands coming to hold my face on both sides.

  As the beat in the song crescendos, Miles ducks his head, his blonde curls brushing my forehead as he lowers his lips to mine. His lips move in time with the song, soft and slow sweeping kisses that reach to every depth of my soul. He's stoking the fire slowly building within me, taking his time to caress my skin, kiss each corner of my lips.

  He takes his hands off my face, his lips never leaving mine, and moves them to my hips. Then, slowly, he starts moving my body, shimmying it slowly back and forth.

  And I realize, in our hazy reverie of sensual kisses, that we're dancing.

  Our bodies are pressed so close together, Miles has made sure of this, that any time the other moves to the beat, we feel the most minuscule of movements down to our cores. Miles breaks the kiss, pushing his forehead into mine rather forcefully, as if this is too much for him to handle. He leads us in a sexy, slow tango. Not like the dramatic one we performed in competition, but smaller, more broken down version. It’s affecting both of us, our breathing hitched, the air in the room too hot. I can feel his steamy breath on my neck, and I get chills. It’s the single hottest experience of my life.

  We aren't just dancing, we are making love.

  Miles moves us around the room, spinning, grinding and stepping until my head feels light and my breathing is labored. At the dark end of the room, furthest from the door, he twirls us until I'm trapped between the wall and his body.

  "What are you doing?" The question is rhetorical. I know what he's going to do almost immediately before he unties the pink sheath at my waist. It floats to the floor, a puff of bubble-gum fabric in the air.

  "You drive me nuts, you know that?" Blonde curls hang in his face, his eyes a wild mixture of lust and greed. He wants my body, my soul, and I'm here, willing to give both up.

  He slips the straps of my bodysuit down my shoulders, the light pink material pulling tight across my breasts. "Miles, someone will see..."

  He growls in frustration. "It’s almost midnight. No one is in the building." He stomps over to the lighting panel, plunging us into darkness and locking the door before storming back to me. He slams me gently back against the wall. "Is that okay, worry wart?"

  I don't have the chance to answer before he's pulling my breasts free of the tight pink material, exposing me from the waist up. His rough hands come around my waist and hoist me into the air, so that I'm sitting on the ballet barre drilled into the wall. My slick arousal is painfully obvious as a wet spot shows between my open legs.

  "God, baby, you're so hot." He moves in between my legs, kissing my neck as he grinds oh so good on the exact spot I need.

  "Miles..." my arms circle his back, pulling him in closer.

  "Just kiss me anytime you need to scream."

  He captures my mouth, and the world kaleidoscopes into vivid greens, bright reds, and orgasmic whites.

  * * *

  I lay on the floor, Miles's chest supporting my head, the only thing left on my body are the pink pointe shoes wound around my ankles.

  "I think you killed me." My curly blonde giant looks down at me, his face a mixture of sated bliss and exhaustion. He's gloriously naked, our sweaty bodies draped across each other on the cool wood studio floor.

  "I'll take that as a compliment." I smile coyly at him, the inner-minx in me coming out after one of the most mind-blowing orgasms of my life.

  "Wow, someone's getting awfully cocky in this relationship. What, now you get all arrogant on me after you lock me down?" He tickles me, teasing my skin and heating my core back up.

  My stomach rumbles, the result of a vicious diet I've put myself on until my audition in a month. "When was the last time you ate?"

  Miles frowns at me. He hasn't been happy about the diet, telling me I'm perfect just the way I am for weeks now. "I'm not sure..."

  He gently eases me aside, standing and stretching. I get a great view of his tight, muscled ass. I role over onto my side and put my head on my hand, admiring the Adonis strutting unashamed around the studio. He picks up my water bottle and takes a sip, trickles of water getting caught in the curled chest hair and rolling down to his still semi-hard member. My insides quiver.

  "Get up, gorgeous." His green/blue eyes crackle with heat at my nakedness. "As much as I'd love to keep you on that floor for the next six hours, you need some food. I'm taking you for pancakes."

  As much as my insides had quivered for him, they positively tittered at the thought of carbs. I was really hungry.

  Ten minutes later, we pull up in front of Jiminy Cricket, the diner where everyone slurps on midday milkshakes and drunk omelettes.

  Miles pulls me in, practically over the center console of truck, and locks me into a searing kiss. He’s gentle and rough all at the same time.

  Breaking away, he pushes his forehead into mine. “Let’s get my girl some pancakes.”

  Taking my hand, he walks us into the diner, nodding to the older woman working as we slide into a booth.

  “How are you, honey? The usual?” She comes over, notepad in hand.

  Miles nods. "Thanks, Gloria. And a short stack and a chocolate milkshake for my lady, here."

  Gloria smiles warmly and walks away. I lift an eyebrow at Miles. "You come here often?"

  He shrugs. "I can't cook and am always hungry. Our place is just around the corner."

  He picks up my hand where it lies on the table between us, and I lace my fingers with his. "What if I don't like chocolate milkshakes?"

  Miles rolls his eyes so dramatically that I think they'll roll back into his head. "Everyone likes chocolate milkshakes. Its like a constitutional amendment."

  "Good thing you're a handsome baseball player, because your legal skills definitely come up short." I laugh as he gives my hand a squeeze.

  "So tell me about this summer course again...what is the audition for?"

  We hadn't talked much about what would happen if I got into the intensive in New York. "Well, its at SAB, or the School of American Ballet. It’s a three month program with seriously the best teachers in the entire world. If I got a decent part in the end-of-summer showcase, it could cement my place in the ballet world. I'm just so nervous..."

  "Hey," He tips my chin up with his long, muscled arm. "There is no reason for you to be nervous. You're the most amazing dancer I've ever seen. And no, I may not have seen many, but I know that you're special. It’s like all the world's light shines from your body when you're performing. You're going to get a spot in the school."

  His confidence builds me up, a big ball of warmth landing in the middle of my chest. "Thanks. I think I get more nervous just talking about it though. How about you, babe, what are your summer plans?"

  Miles shifts uncomfortably, clearly on the brink of sharing something. "Well, obviously visit you in New York as often as possible. But, um...I'm actually going to enroll myself in the draft. The MLB draft that is. Not the army..."

  "Yeah, I got that." I lay my hand over his fingers, which are now drumming on the tabletop. "I think that's great, babe."

  Miles sighs with visible relief. "Really? Okay, good. I didn't know if you'd be okay with me possibly leaving college if I got drafted, or what you would say..."

  "I think that if this is your dream, you should chase it. Don't waste anymore time trying to do anything you don't absolutely love."

  He shakes his head, smiling as he plays with my fingers. "Why are you the most perfect girl in the world?"

  "I've been waiting a long time to hear you say that." My words bring a frown to his face, his eyes drawing tight and sending wrinkles up his forehead. "I don't mean that in a way that's asking you to apologize. I know you had stuff going on. I only mean that I feel so lucky, to be here right now."

  Miles's grin melts my heart, and Gloria comes up with our food just then. She sets the steaming hot pancakes in front of me, and my milkshake next to the plate. In front of Miles, she places a six-piece french toast, a huge omelette with sausage and peppers, a side of hash browns, and four pieces of toast. He also gets a milkshake.