Page 49 of Dance of Devils

Kissing me.

For a second, it’s chaos. A riot of beauty, insanity, and need. My hands tighten on her back, as if to crush her to my chest and never let go. My lips open, and she whimpers breathlessly as my tongue slides into her mouth, tangling with hers.

She sinks against me. Her pulse goes fucking haywire as I growl into her mouth and kiss her like she’s fucking mine.

…Except, she’s not.

She’s a dancer at the company I own. She’stwentyfucking years my junior. And she’s looking for a shot at an opportunity she thinks I can give her.

Which I can’t.

With a growl rumbling in my chest, I shove us apart, wrenching my mouth from hers and stepping away.

Brooklyn’s face crumples, her eyes widening when she sees the dark fury in mine.

“Don’t ever do that again,” I say quietly, my voice black as night.

Without another word, I turn and walk out of the studio.

I have to.

If I don’t, I’ll gather her back into my arms, and neither of us will ever let go.

11

BROOKLYN

Good girl.

Fuck. Even just replaying those wordspurringfrom his sinful lips in that absurdly hot accent sends pulses of heat through my core.

But with the giggly, blushing little tingles come other things, too. Like the utter embarrassment at having fuckingkissedhim.

Yeah, that happened.

What I don’t get is why the billionaire criminal kingpin who happens toownthe ballet company I dance for offered to coach me. It would be laughable except for the inexplicable fact that Kirreally doesseem to know his shit when it comes to ballet.

Which is…unexpected.

I meant what I said. There are plenty of rich guys in New York who fund galleries or concert venues or orchestras, because it’s a tax write-off and a feather in their cap that tells people they’re not just rich, they’repatrons of the arts.

Barf. Even though that’s literally how all art, ever, has been funded.

But Kir managed to torpedo that idea in about three seconds when it became abundantly clear that he was extremely well versed in ballet technique. To the point where his coaching, though harsh and demanding, wasperfectlyspot on.

Part of me wants to shake off everything he said as bullshit or him just trying to lord it over me. But the professional dancer in me knows every single thing he said to me is exactly what Madame Kuzmina would have said, too.

So how the fuck does Kir know so much about ballet? You don’t get that knowledge just by buying a company and watching a few performances a year.

But today, same as last night when I was huddled in the back of Pearl, trying to stop my pulse from hammering and my thoughts from racing, I don’t get too far trying to puzzle that out.

Nope, I veer off track pretty quickly to the much more pressing item: the small fact that I fucking kissed him.

And he kissed me back.

Hard. Possessively. Consumingly. He kissed me in a way I haveneverbeen kissed before. Whatever it was…fuck… I want more of it.

Even though thatcannothappen again.