Page 26 of The Stallion (Men Under Revue #2)

Bria

I should be driving to Phoenix right now, but for some reason—one that I couldn’t justify, even if I tried—I’ve found myself sitting in the Red Magic theater—one last rehearsal away from my debut performance in the show.

It felt like a heavy blow to the heart—having to text Asher and advise her that I wouldn’t return as planned this weekend. Her rapid response and quick approval, however, actually surprised the hell out of me.

She didn’t poke and prod about why I wanted to stay, and she didn’t even try to convince me to change my mind either. It was strange, to say the least.

I owed that girl so much once this was all over.

She’ll be why we earned that regional win—not me, not anymore.

The intimate rehearsals with Dallas had rekindled my passionate spirit—breathing life back into a part of me that I thought had died long ago.

After rehearsing day and night for the past week, I discovered a new sense of self, driven by the way he moved and his ability to read my body so fluently…

Clearly, this marriage wasn’t just for convenience anymore—his or mine.

“That’s the last of the dancers out for the day. The theater is locked up and all ours until morning.” Dallas spoke as he entered the main room, rubbing his hands together with a charming smile that made me melt into the loveseat I had been sitting on as I awaited his return.

This reaction was nothing new—he always did things to my body, and now that I was accepting the effect he had on me, everything felt far more intense than before.

Dallas didn’t just leave me breathless when he entered the room; he left me winded—the air sucked from my lungs entirely.

“What’s that look for?” Dallas huffed in question, arching his brow as he stopped just short of the stage.

“Nothing.” I shook my head with discreet denial, pulling myself out of my lust-filled haze and clearing my throat as I stood. “We’re doing this one for real this time, right? Water and all?” I asked, my tone slightly tremulous. Why was I suddenly so nervous?

“Yes, now that you know the whole routine, we need to practice with water so you can understand how the movements flow and trust me to guide your body as you slide across the pool. ”

Dallas was the one who suggested practicing dry first, fully aware of just how slippery the stage got once the water element was added.

I was surprised—to say the least—that he wouldn’t have wanted me drenched head to toe from day one—any excuse to see me soaked.

The moves were simple enough, very skin-to-skin, and every bit romantic. However, adding the additional sliding technique across the stage made everything far more complicated.

Trust was essential from start to finish—for this dance, a partner, and a relationship. Trusting anyone other than myself was an ability I’d lost days before we met and was struggling to rebuild in such a short span of time.

Dallas pressed a button on a small remote and tossed it onto one of the loveseats bordering the stage. Within seconds, water began pouring from the ceiling, filling the small pool set center stage.

The pool descends from the ceiling during the show, only for this specific part. Once it’s over, it is pulled back up like an elevator, keeping the stage dry for a seamless transition between performances.

“The water is cold, but I’ll warm you up very quickly.” He teased, dragging a knuckle along the underside of my chin as he stepped past me and up the stairs to the top of the stage.

Not once in a million years had I felt hesitant about performing—even in a crowded event stadium with thousands of eyes on me. But right here, right fucking now, my nerves were screaming as I flexed my trembling hands and followed his lead .

Stepping up to his side, I could feel the cool water mist on my bare legs, sending a shiver up my spine. On instinct, I wrapped my arms around my body, closing myself off as I dug my nails into my dress’s thin, buttery fabric.

To better prepare for dancing in wet clothes, I wore a bright red dress that matched the shade of my hair.

It was similar in design to the ones used in the performance: short and flowy, but unique to me in color.

Dallas wore a loose white button-up with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms and a pair of plain black slacks.

Warm palms from behind caressed down the sides of my tensed arms before Dallas stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the intimidating shower.

I lifted my eyes to meet his, sucking in a shaky breath as “For Your Entertainment” by Adam Lambert started to play over the theater’s speakers.

Pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, Dallas stepped away from me, backing into the falling water with a gracious hand held out for me to take.

For a second, I admired how the water fell over his body, soaking his blonde hair and white button-up—turning the fabric transparent as it clung to him like a second skin.

Every dip and curve of his chiseled body was on full display, and my eyes devoured every inch.

“That’s your cue, sweet girl. Now or never.”

The song’s pacing picked up as my wandering mind found its way back to my body. And just as I had with every routine I had ever performed, I took his hand and immediately fell into the role I needed to play—the Bria I was when I was with him.

The moment the pad of my foot touched the inside of the pool, I could feel the lack of grip, slipping into a spin as Dallas caught me with an arm wrapped around my waist.

Without skipping a beat, he spun me outward, the move effortless, while water splashed around us, kicked up by the hem of my dress and feet as I worked to keep myself stable.

From all the jerky motions, my long hair fell over my face, blinding me and making it harder to focus on the choreography—a few times, I gripped his arm tightly to prevent myself from falling to the floor completely.

My lack of grounding made my body tense, unsettled, and hesitant.

Watching this routine the first night, I thought it would be easy. Dallas and the previous woman he had performed with made it look effortless—simple, fast-paced movements with lots of artistic splashing and gliding.

After slipping one more time, Dallas pulled me to his chest, and I held on to him for dear life, my fingers digging into his bicep and forearm.

I looked—and felt—like the little mermaid that had just gotten her legs, with my wet hair unattractively stuck to my face and the sides of my neck.

His warm palm caressed my cheek as he held me close, staring into my eyes with a look of longing that I had come to notice more often from him these days—a look I was failing to ignore .

“Relax, sweet girl. I’ve got you.” He murmured before pressing his lips tenderly against mine, my eyes falling shut as his did the same. There was no tongue, no fierce heat of a frenzied kiss. It was light, intimate— everything . “I won’t let you fall… Trust me .”

When he pulled away, my eyes fluttered open, meeting his brilliant heterochromatic gaze once more as my insides twisted so tightly that I felt like I was about to be sick.

Lovesick… that was a thing, right?

We stood under the falling water, frozen in a moment that I never wanted to end.

I didn’t know what the hell had come over me.

Dallas and I had practiced the choreography a thousand times, and aside from the first—maybe even the second—I had nailed it flawlessly every time.

So then why, all of a sudden, was I tripping over myself and fucking up the moves like I hadn’t even attempted them once…

Why was I constantly questioning my hesitation? Pushing and pulling against my inner self.

I wanted Dallas—needed him as much as I needed the air I breathed.

But then I always fell right back to where I had started—fearing that this would all be short-lived. A moment of happiness wrapped in a blanket of devotion, only to have it all ripped away, just as it had been before, just as it had been with Connor.

Could I trust him?

Could I let this man in?

Could I allow Dallas to have all of me—and not just in a physical way?

There was only one way to find out…

“St-start the song again…” I breathed, pushing myself out of his comforting embrace and stepping out of the pool as I ran my fingers through my matted hair.

I wiped the wet strands from my face, collecting my thoughts and composure.

Dripping wet, Dallas strode across the stage and down the steps to where he had tossed the remote from earlier. Picking it up, he pressed the same button again and dropped it back down before returning to the stage.

The music abruptly stopped, and Dallas didn’t take his eyes off me once as he stepped back into his starting position under the falling water, his hand outstretched just as before, as the music started from the beginning.

Lets fucking go, Bria!

I could hear Asher’s encouraging voice hyping me up as I shook my hands and rolled my shoulders.

Setting aside the last fragments of who I was, I stepped toward my husband—finally ready to let him take me away.

Dallas pulled me in, and this time—when my foot touched water— I didn’t falter.

I felt the power of our connection flowing through me everywhere our skin touched. His hand swept across my waist as he spun me outward, and I gracefully let the water take me down .

Strong hands lifted my body as I slid across the floor, the ends of my hair brushing against the top of the waterline.

As my husband pulled me upright, I flipped my hair with a dramatic neck roll, and water droplets scattered around us like confetti.

Feeling poised and relaxed in my element, I spun around in his arms, stopping when my back pressed firmly against his chest. I then raised my right arm above my head before sinking down into the splits in front of him.

Just as I had reached the floor, Dallas pulled my dress off in a single fluid motion and tossed it aside before gripping my wrist, pulling me back up, and twirling me to face him.

Now, in nothing more than a black bra and thong, his arm wrapped around my waist, and I instinctively lifted my right leg to wrap around his hip.

With a short bounce from him, my left leg lifted to mirror my right, both now holding tight as his hands slid down to my ass, giving it a playful squeeze.

Unable to resist his flirtatious gesture, I giggled with exhilaration, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip as he repositioned his hands to grip my hips before he started swinging my body from left to right.

I let my head drop back and sway with the movement, water from the ends of my hair flicking off the sides of the stage.

Releasing my legs from his waist, Dallas dipped us low before lifting my lower half into the air with all his strength until I was looking down at him from above.

Giving me momentum, he quickly pulled me back down, and I slid between his legs from one side of the pool to the other, ripping his slacks away in the process.

Once I had reached the opposite end, I turned around, legs spread wide, as I stretched my arms above my head and arched my back, bending over the pool’s edge.

Dallas followed not long after, sliding on his knees across the gap that separated us and landing right between my thighs.

He pulled my hips up to meet his, my ass in his lap, and my head snapped up.

Our eyes locked on each other as I felt his hard length pressing against my clit, and his hands caressing their way up my bare sides.

I parted my lips with breathless desire, and instead of uttering insignificant words, I fisted his shirt and pulled myself up to capture his mouth with mine, moaning into him as I rolled my hips, begging for more delicious friction.

An ‘intimate dance’ was a complete fucking understatement.