The Billionaire's Ex-Wife Page 6
For a moment, Trinity blamed her drifting thoughts for making her see Sam in the figure jogging toward her down the sidewalk. She had always known Sam to be a morning runner, so there was no chance of her seeing him out in the New York evening, no matter how she might—
"Trinity?"
"Fuck," she whispered under her breath. The jogger was Sam. He had stalled upon spotting her, but now trotted forward to join her.
He pulled his headphones from his ears and glanced around. She watched him take in the couples milling about, and saw his usual stony expression take hold. She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling too obviously at his clear disapproval. He was sure to voice what was bothering him any second now.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you," he said stiffly. She felt certain he would have bowed himself out were this a more antiquated era. "This looks like...well, it doesn't matter what it looks like. I assume you're meeting someone here."
"You assume wrong, Sam." She offered a quick correction before she could think to stop herself. "I always come to this class solo. I'm used to dancing as a single. Sometimes the partnered men even dance with me out of pity."
"I doubt it’s pity," Sam said. His eyes lingered appreciatively on the way her tights hugged her legs beneath the translucent fabric of her flower print skirt. Trinity didn't bother offering another correction to set him straight. The truth was plenty of men had offered themselves up to be her partner in the past. It was the permanence of the potential arrangement that scared her, and her fear of committing herself to letting a man take the lead had everything to do with her failed marriage to Sam. It was something she had been working to get over, but she was finding it a little hard to progress when the reason for her isolation stood in front of her looking as if he'd just walked off the cover shoot for a men's fitness magazine.
"I'll dance with you," Sam offered.
For a moment, Trinity wasn't sure if she had heard him right. The old Sam—which she was fairly certain was the same Sam she was talking to—would have never agreed to something like this, much less volunteered himself. She blinked a few times just to make sure she wasn't hallucinating the uncharacteristic offer.
Sam started to replace his earbuds. "Sorry. That was forward of me. Just if you find yourself in need of a partner…"
"I do have needs, Sam!" she exclaimed abruptly. Several nearby couples turned their heads, and their sudden rapt attention made Trinity wish she could walk right out into the street and disappear down an open manhole. "I mean...I'd hate to interrupt your run."
There was an obvious smile tugging at the edges of Sam's lips, but he kept a careful mastery of it. Trinity was both relieved and perplexed that he wouldn't just let it go. She had made an obvious Freudian slip: why didn't he just let himself laugh? Was he afraid she would shout him off the sidewalk?
Was his fear justified?
This last thought jolted her. Sam had seized every opportunity to reconnect with her since returning to New York, and she had consistently shut the door on him...except for all those times she hadn't. Forget stolen glances: she had let her ex-husband kiss her, caress her, and she hadn't done a damn thing about it except push each dalliance further, until some interruption inevitably brought her back to her senses.
Oh God. Was Jessica right about me needing to get laid?
"I can finish my run later," Sam said as he stowed his headphones in his pocket. "But is this okay to wear? I'd hate for you to invite me in only to watch me get kicked out immediately."
Trinity blushed. "Yes. That will be fine. All the men wear athletic clothes, only…"
"Only what?"
"Only none make them look as good as you do. Oh hey, they're opening the doors." She snagged hold of Sam's arm and steered him up the steps alongside the other couples.
Sam dipped his head down to whisper in her ear: "Don't think I didn't hear you compliment me."
Trinity gave him a little shove toward the sign-in table. "I hope you have your wallet, because I'm not paying for you."
"I wouldn't dream of asking," Sam deflected as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. Trinity saw the flash of credit cards and crisp mint-green bills as he paid, and something more...a flash of gold in the form of a wrinkled square of plastic.
It was a Magnum condom. She read the label before Sam closed his wallet and returned it to his pocket. When he turned back to her and saw her expression, he raised an eyebrow. "Everything all right?" he asked her.
Trinity flushed. "Yes. I just need to stretch. Come on." She took his hand and led him through the nearest doorway. The classroom was already full of couples wandering about; some of the more serious among them were already taking turns in one another's arms to stretch their legs up and scissor them at improbable angles.
"I take back some of the shit I used to talk about ballroom dance. Stretch away," Sam invited as soon as they found a corner to occupy. "I'll do anything I can to help."
Trinity flushed. "I'm nowhere near that flexible," she muttered as she braced herself on his shoulders. She swept her right leg out behind her and leaned a little, until she felt the pleasurable tug of muscles being pulled.
"I beg to differ." Sam's hands hovered near her shoulders in case she pitched sideways. She could feel their heat radiating near her skin. At his words, Trinity quickly stepped back and continued stretching on her own...but there was no avoiding the reality of Sam's arms once the instructor started up the music. He was her partner now, after all. It's not as if they could execute even the most minor ballroom moves without touching.
Maybe this had been a mistake.
Sam glanced around as the other couples flowed into position with each other, summoned by the slow, gentle melody. It was a familiar routine, and the easiest for beginners to master.
"We don't have to worry about the steps if you don't want to," she mentioned. He was clearly analyzing the movements of the couple beside them. She had made the same mistake when she first started out, and her personal quest for perfection had only gotten in the way of her enjoying herself. "Just do it like we did on our wedding day. You can follow my lead if you want."
"Then it wouldn't be like it was on our wedding day," Sam said. He surprised her by reaching for her hand and tugging her to him decisively; she stumbled into his chest, and privately chastised herself for letting her hands linger on his pectorals. Had they always been that tight?
"Are you...seeing anybody while you're in New York?" The question had sounded more discreet when she thought it up originally. Sam gazed down at her curiously as he took her in his arms. He obviously detected an undercurrent to her question. Trinity sighed. "I noticed the condom in your wallet," she admitted as they began to move to the music.
"Oh. That." Sam chuckled. "I've had it since we broke up. Never found an occasion to use it."
Trinity nearly sighed aloud with relief, but managed to master the impulse. Thankfully, Sam appeared to be so focused on where to put his feet that he didn't notice her expression. He half-hopped to avoid a sweep of her toe, and threw himself off-balance as a result. When his heel came down to catch his weight, it was on the lip of her shoe.
"Ow!" Trinity exclaimed. The male half of a couple beside them quickly redirected his partner away from the unfolding catastrophe.
"Sorry," Sam said. "I didn't mean to catch you unawares."
"You just made a mistake, Sam," she muttered. "It happens."
"I don't think I did."
Trinity couldn't help but give a short laugh at the absurdity of his claim. "Everyone makes mistakes when they're first starting out! Are you telling me you've perfected the moves already, and I'm the one tripping you up?"
"There was a skip in the music," he said stubbornly. "It's to be expected when you use an old stereo like that." He tried to nod over her shoulder, and his forehead collided with hers.
"Ow, Sam!" Trinity broke from him and took a staggered step back, clutching her forehead. "Did you actually just head butt me?"
"No!" they both chorused back. The instructor put up his hands and backed off.
Trinity cut Sam a quick look of disapproval. "Why is it so hard for you to just admit when you need help?" she demanded.
His grip on her waist tightened. "I could ask you the same question."
"Don't try and turn this around on me. I'm the one with the relevant experience here! Just because you aren't perfect right out of the gate doesn't mean you can't listen and accept outside assistance to improve."
"I can listen, Trinity," Sam stressed. "I can accept." He yanked her close, but didn't resume dancing. It was like he was suddenly petrified of making the wrong move.
"Then prove it," she said softly. "Follow my lead. Imitate the steps I'm taking. See?" She began swaying her body in time to the music, and Sam's body soon mirrored her rhythm. When she took a step back, she urged Sam to take a step forward to keep their hips aligned. It took several more tries before he seemed to get the hang of it. "I want you to know I'm a safe person to screw up in front of, Sam. Maybe I never made it clear before." They turned together, and Trinity laid her head against his shoulder. "I'm not going to judge you, or think less of you, just because you're not always perfect at everything right out of the gate. That sounds exhausting, if you ask me."
The hand that held hers tightened a little. She reciprocated.
"One person may have to take the lead, but you can't sustain a real partnership without accepting input from your partner," she said. "Here now: I'll follow you."
They revolved together slowly in silence in the aftermath of her claim. Sam's steps were still halting, but Trinity thought she felt him finally loosening his stranglehold on their positioning. He stared past her shoulder at the far wall; she wondered if he was listening to her words on mental replay, over and over, trying to dissect their meaning and apply them to every argument they had ever had in the past. Trinity dropped her head against his shoulder.
God, he smelled good. Even after his interrupted jog, he still smelled like the same body wash she had always known him to wear: slightly astringent with a kick of cinnamon. Trinity inhaled again.
They swayed more gracefully together with each turn around the dance floor. She didn't have to glance around at the other couples to know they were making up the steps, but she didn't care; they had finally fallen into a rhythm that enabled them to work in unison without literally stepping on each other's toes. What's more, she found herself starting to enjoy just how closely they were dancing together.
Sam dropped his head and breathed against her neck. Trinity closed her mouth over a startled moan; when she attempted to straighten in his arms, Sam's hand pressed against the small of her back and pulled her closer. She could feel the swell of his erection steadily growing against her inner thigh.
"Sam…"
"Is there a bathroom around here?" he rumbled in her ear. Trinity shivered at the seemingly innocuous question; there was nothing innocent about his tone of voice.
"Down the hallway and to the right."
"Show me."
She took his hand and pulled him obediently after her. She didn't stop to question what she was doing, or what awaited her once they were out of view of the others. All she could think about was Sam's hand constricting around hers, and the little encouraging pulse it gave when he sensed her momentary hesitation by the door.
They didn't make it down the hallway and to the right. They made it five steps and to the left, where Sam discovered a storage closet; he shoved the door handle down, and when it gave, pulled her after him. She came all too willingly, her skirt only narrowly avoiding getting caught in the door as it swung shut behind them.
Sam didn't need a light to see by. His hot mouth found her in the darkness before she could get a word out, and Trinity was completely content to leave what they were about to do unvoiced. She kicked off her heels as Sam forced her back into the recesses of the closet. She hopped once, twice, and her legs came up to wrap themselves around his waist as his powerful arms cemented her against him. The maneuver was effortless, their choreography off the dance floor more than memorized by now. The instructions were written into their bloodstreams.
"Sam!" His name burst from her lips as her back connected with a low shelf. She arched herself into him and winced, and Sam grunted. He pulled her away from the shelf in a shower of falling cleaning supplies and pressed her back into the bare wall.
"I need you," he panted into her neck. His voice was ragged, his eyes downcast and hidden by his mussed hair. Trinity shuddered. She had never known him to give over so recklessly to his own desire before. She didn't doubt his need. How could she? She could feel his erection through the massive tent he had pitched in his shorts.
And her need was equal to his.
She stripped his shorts from him as best she could manage, but he kept dragging her up to plant wet, fervent kisses all along her lips and face and neck. By the time she managed to get them both halfway undressed, she was out of her mind with need. She only barely remembered the condom in time. Almost as soon as she'd rolled it over Sam's jutting need, he had her pinned back beneath him against the wall.
"Hike your leg up," he whispered. Taking the lead as always, but Trinity didn't need his instruction to know what to do now with her body. She lifted her left leg and hooked it around his hip as he kissed her senseless. She had already shed her underwear and tights; there were no more obstacles between them.
"Is this really what you want?" His quiet question ghosted against the curve of her neck.
Trinity sighed in blissful response, and let her eyes fall shut. "More than anything, Sam."
The moment he entered her was pure, unadulterated paradise. His cock slid past her slick folds easily—she had been wet in his arms since before they got off the dance floor—and Trinity arched to accept him. It had been so long that she had forgotten just how full Sam made her, and how complete.
She glanced down between them, and a low hiss of pleasure escaped past her teeth at the sight of their joining. She hiked her leg a little higher so she could get a better view. Sam's cock was completely buried inside her. A nest of tight black corkscrew curls was all she could see pressing up against her entrance from the outside.
Heat bloomed in her belly at the erotic sight, and her head fell back. Sam was too much to take in—physically and visually—and she couldn't remember the last time she had felt as turned-on as she did in that moment.
"What are you thinking about?" Sam leaned in, and his hot breath gusted along her ear. Trinity shivered in response.
"How good we are together," she replied. "Despite ourselves. Always despite ourselves. We work well together...we live well together...and we almost dance well together."
"I couldn't agree more."
He began to move against her in a slow rhythm. His pacing off the dance floor, under the cover of illicit darkness and gripped by a desire he had no hope to easily define or control, was excruciatingly perfect—although Trinity would never tell him as much. The moment she diverted Sam's attention to his performance was the moment he got in his own way with his need to polish and execute the best possible plan.
And God, what he was doing to her now was perfect. He ground his hips against her own, withdrawing and pumping himself forward into her. His movements were a steady, methodical pulse that had nothing to do with perfection, and all to do with pleasure.
There was that element of the forbidden, too, which couldn't be denied. Sam was filling the void he had left, satisfying an itch that Trinity had nursed and never scratched in all their time apart. She shouldn't have ever let him get this far, and yet...she just couldn't help herself. She had been addicted from the moment they first started dating. Nobody could ever make her feel the way he could.
"Ah! Ah!" She had a peripheral awareness of where they were, but she couldn't keep herself from crying out in wordle
ss ecstasy. Her ass bumped the wall, its natural swell cushioning her as Sam's hips pumped into her. He changed it up suddenly and began to thrust upward, his momentum carrying her up the wall a few inches each time. His thrusts became longer, deeper, and he moaned into her ear. Holy shit, he was so hot when he let himself get carried away like this. Was there anyone else on earth who could bring down his walls with their body alone?
Trinity tightened her thighs around him, and this time Sam gave an audible gasp as his cock slid up into her. She felt the thick head of him strike her inner trigger, and fireworks exploded behind her eyes that seemed bright enough to light up the dark broom closet. She cried out and strained against him. He groaned and knocked his forehead against her neck. Sweat-soaked strands of his hair curled and stuck to the perspiration on her skin. His hand groped its way up between them and closed gently over her mouth. It was meant to serve more as a reminder than a show of force, but the thought of him stifling her cries was almost too erotic for words.
"Shhh," he bid her. Trinity cried feebly into the palm of his hand. He had withdrawn his cock halfway, and she could feel it dripping between her legs with the slick evidence of her need. He pulled out fully and rubbed it up against her clit. She moaned against the cage of his fingers at each steady push. "You like that," he noticed. It wasn't a question. "I was married to you for five years and I didn't know that."
"Neither did I." It was all she could do from keep her voice from descending into a primal growl. Sam's steady, teasing thrusts against her were divine, but the need building in her belly wasn't going to release without him. She hopped up, using the wall at her back to brace herself as she wrapped her legs around his waist and pinned his cock between them. Before he could protest, she raised herself up and descended back down onto him.
"Oh, fuck." His hand fell away from her mouth, and he buried his lips in the crook of her neck to stifle his own groan. "You're going to make me come just by doing that." His fingers dug into her hips as if he needed to steady himself, even though he was the one with both feet planted solidly on the floor.