His to Take (Wicked Lovers #9)(37)
Author: Shayla Black

She hesitated. “I just let you draw the wrong conclusion.”

“Bullshit. You lied.”

“I didn’t. I said I was involved with someone. I simply didn’t say it was in a dance capacity.”

He rolled his eyes. “Why the misdirection, then? You thought if I believed you were taken I’d keep my hands off you?”

“Something like that,” she admitted.

Joaquin scoffed. “Did it feel that simple when I kissed you? Did any part of that feel like I wasn’t dying to touch you?”

She couldn’t quite meet his gaze. With head bowed and light brown curls swirling around her shoulders, she looked fragile, confused, and a little contrite. “No. It felt like you wanted me, but that doesn’t make sense in my head.”

You aren’t alone.

“I don’t know what to think,” she went on, almost pleading for some sanity.

The anger drained from him. “Bailey, I’ve heaped a lot on your shoulders today. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have picked a fight with you.” He frowned, genuinely confused. “Or did you pick one with me?”

“Probably both.” She smiled a bit ruefully.

“Yeah. Whatever . . . I didn’t mean for things to be this way.”

Her expression fell. “I’m scared, Joaquin. I’m scared of where my life is now. I’m scared of who’s after me.” She hesitated, looking so delicate once more. “I’m scared of you.”

Hell if that didn’t make him feel like a heel. “Baby girl, I would never hurt you. I know we didn’t have the most auspicious meeting. I came on strong today. I’ve been an ass. I don’t have an excuse, just an apology.”

She lifted one delicate shoulder in a half shrug. “I tore into you, too. I just . . . I’m overwhelmed. There’s so much happening, and I don’t have anyone to blame except you.”

He nodded, taking a careful step forward. Touch her? Don’t touch her? Finally, he settled for cupping her slender arm, but he wanted so much more. “It’s fine. I’m a big boy. I can take it. Put everything on my shoulders.”

Instead, Bailey closed her eyes and seemed to withdraw into herself. “Even if you’d let me make a phone call, I hardly have anyone to talk to but you.”

His first thought was that she must be exaggerating. Then he paused. Parents gone. No siblings. Who else did she have in her life? “Tell me about your relationship with Blane.”

“He’s my best friend. I jokingly refer to him as my gay husband. He’s an incredible dance partner. He’s helping me prepare for the upcoming audition. He guides me through some of the catfights and ugly politics of a professional dance company. I listen to the trials and tribulations of his rocky love life. He pushes me to open myself more so that when I dance, people see my soul.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Joaquin blurted. He didn’t like the idea that Blane used her as a sounding board, then turned around and criticized her.

“No, he’s right. What separates a technically beautiful dancer from a spellbinding one is their ability to emote with their body. Technically, I’m great. Everyone says it. I have a hard time coming out of my shell. I want to. I mean to. Blane is . . .” She smiled, clearly in awe. “When he dances, you just feel all his life experience. His joy, his heartbreak, his struggles. He’s wide open for the audience, and they drink him in. He can move people to tears. He’s trying to help me be more like that.”

“How?” Had he misjudged Blane? Maybe the guy swung both ways and wanted to give Bailey more “life experience.” If he did, Joaquin would be happy to knock his nuts back against his spine.

“He encourages me to take a chance here and there. He tries to help me find ways to laugh or cry or . . .” She shrugged. “Get mad, fall in love. Care about something other than the perfect pointe. I’m not sure I’m a very good student. I know he’s right, but I just don’t know how to actually follow his advice.”

This wasn’t his area of expertise. Emotions were something he usually avoided at all costs. They got people killed in action. But Joaquin couldn’t not try to help her. “What about when your adoptive parents passed away? Didn’t you feel something then? Or after your first boyfriend or . . . ” He grasped at straws. “What about after you had the dreams?”

“I feel plenty,” she corrected. “I think I’m releasing myself through dance, but everyone who sees me says I look like I’m just on the cusp of opening myself and giving something beautiful through performance before I pull back behind my walls. I’m not even aware of it.” She shook her head. “Sorry. But that’s what Blane and I do together. When we rehearse, he pushes me to my limits and tries to make me reveal my soul.”