Come, Dance With Me Read online

  The applause died down and the lights dipped, the babble of voices from the audience increasing as they began to file out of the auditorium. Trying to think of a way to detain her, Andrei sat forward in his seat watching Sasha gather her notes together. She put them on the table and stood up, smoothing the red dress down over her hips, unconsciously raising Andrei’s blood pressure a notch.

  She smiled, held out her hand. ‘Thank you so much, Mr Kovalevsky; it has been a pleasure and you were very patient, I am quite new to live interviews. Do you think it went all right?’

  Andrei stood too and sandwiched her hand, swamping it between his. He stepped closer, the proximity making her heart race even faster as the tang of his cologne filled her head. She noticed how a curl of hair beneath his ear ticked his collar and found she could not look away. Her eyes were drawn to the strong neck, slightly beaded with sweat where it disappeared into his crisp white shirt that was open at the collar, providing a glimpse of the broad smooth chest beneath. She swallowed and waited for his answer.

  ‘It was perfect, such a pleasure, Miss Johnson.’

  ‘Sasha,’ she whispered, her cheeks burning as he held onto her hand and spoke her name for the first time.

  His voice was deep and intimate as if they were alone and the fifty people on the studio floor did not exist. For a long moment they stood quietly, her hand clasped in his, the top of her head level with his chin. She raised her eyes to his face and, for a little too long, feasted on his slightly roughened jaw, the tanned skin stretching across his broad cheekbones.

  Sasha marvelled that any man could be so beautiful. He did not miss her silent appraisal and whispered something so quietly that she misheard what he said.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  She gave herself a mental shake and forced her mind to concentrate, willed her brain to clear. He is just a man. She told herself. No different from my brother, or dad, or from Mike flippin’ Bywater for that matter. Andrei Kovalevsky is just an ordinary man.

  Unable to look at him any longer without revealing the depth of her confusion she turned her face away. It was suddenly imperative that she remain calm. She waited, her heart beating hard and fast and, after a moment, he placed a finger beneath her chin and turned her face up to his. His lips were just a breath away and he was smiling gently, with his eyes more than with his mouth. She was oblivious to Lisa watching open-mouthed from the wings and had quite forgotten the girl’s night on the town that they’d planned for after the show.

  ‘I said, Miss Johnson, that it was a perfect interview and would you mind joining me for a drink to celebrate?’

  The limo swept from the studio precinct into the stream of traffic. Horns blasted, Christmas lights twinkled and a grinning moon hung low in the sky.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind coming back to my apartment? I live in the penthouse at the Tower Hotel. The staff are very discreet. If we go to a public place they will think you are my next conquest and, come morning, we will find ourselves plastered all over the tabloids. I am out of favour with the newspapers at the moment, they’ve had nothing good to say about me in a long time.’

  Sasha shook her head. ‘I don’t mind.’ She paused, took a surreptitious breath. ‘Why don’t they like you? What have you done?’

  As if she couldn’t guess. It was her job to read the papers. She knew every one of his misdemeanours, could name every one of the lucky women he had dated and understood just the sort of man she was dealing with.

  ‘Oh.’ He peered past the driver’s shoulder through the windscreen as if to judge the road ahead, even though he was just a passenger. ‘I had some personal problems that I didn’t handle very well. My name became linked with some pretty wild characters. The paparazzi made the most of it, they always love the dirt and now they want more. They dislike the new image I am cultivating, even though it really isn’t an image at all. It was the wild Andrei that was false. I am not naturally a hell raiser. I was just scared to face up to things and running away from things, trying to escape from who I really am.’

  ‘But, no longer.’

  He turned again to face her, his eyes serious. ‘No; no longer.’

  She wanted to believe him. Although there were acres of leather seat between them, he felt very close; so close that she could feel her body singing in response. The car was filled with the heady scent of his cologne and soft music provided the perfect accompaniment to a seduction. Tension seemed to throb in the air between them and, to break it, he flipped open a concealed door and produced a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

  Sasha raised her eyebrows. ‘I thought you had given up alcohol.’

  Andrei flashed her a rueful smile.

  He is so perfect, far too beautiful for me, she thought, watching the golden liquid cascade into the glasses. He held out the champagne flute, the touch of his fingers on hers jolting like a current of electricity into her heart as she accepted the offering.

  ‘I have given up excess in all areas of my life. I am not an alcoholic. I am just taking some time out. I’m sick of too much booze, too many women, too many late nights and too many parties but a glass or two won’t hurt. It is nothing.’

  She sipped, enjoying the feeling of the ice-cold liquid flowing through her red-hot body before it settled in the cradle of her stomach. Andrei drank also and relaxed a little, sliding one arm along the back of the seat, his body tilted slightly toward her as he looked down at her lowered head.

  ‘Sasha,’ he said, turning her name into a song. ‘I have answered your questions all evening, now it is your turn. Tell me something about yourself.’

  Her lips were moist, her tongue flicked out, removing the drops of champagne making Andrei’s stomach turn over in response as he quelled the sudden flaming desire to lick her lips too.

  ‘There’s not much for me to tell, really. I come from an ordinary family. Dad retired a few years ago and he and Mum moved to the country. I also have a brother called Jack who works in Columbia.’

  ‘Columbia? What is his line of work? Narcotics?’

  The tinkle of her laugh was like bells making Andrei long to hear her laugh again. ‘He is a geologist, they have fantastic rocks out there apparently.’

  Andrei picked up a strand of her hair and ran it over his fingers, testing its softness. Sasha held her breath. Andrei’s voice was like a melody in her head.

  ‘He must be the boring one. There is one in every family.’

  ‘No,’ she said ruefully. ‘In this case, Jack is definitely the clever one.’

  To hide her confusion she laughed again, teasing a smile from him in return. ‘What about you and your family? Do you have brothers and sisters? Are your parents here, or in Russia?’

  His face fell and a muscle worked in his jaw. ‘So many questions!’ He paused before continuing as if working out what to say. ‘My parents had just two children; Yours truly and my sister …Yana. We had a wonderful childhood but Mother lives here in Britain now. When …when m-my father and sister were killed she did not cope with her loss very well and after she was widowed, she was still young and wanted to return home. My mother is English, she lives in the Cotswolds.’

  Sasha turned her eyes full beam upon him, her face full of his tragedy, her voice soft. ‘How sad to be widowed young. You say they were killed, not just dead but killed. Can I ask what happened?’

  Andrei’s face was suddenly pale against the darkness, his eyes dark and luminous and, when he spoke, his voice was flat and toneless. ‘There was an accident, a long time ago. A car, they were hit by a car …an accident. Could have happened to anyone.’

  As Andrei turned his face away the limo entered an underground car park and the atmosphere changed. It became colder, the cheerful Christmas lights of the streets exchanged for eerie yellow neon. When the car stopped and the chauffeur got out to opened the door, Sasha grabbed her bag and by the time she had swung her long legs from the back seat, Andrei was there to offer her assistance.

  Their footsteps echo
ed across the empty precinct, the clip clop of her heels ceasing while they summoned the lift and waited. As the elevator door closed upon them and they found themselves completely alone for the first time, a profound silence fell.

  Sasha was suddenly ill at ease again, not knowing what to say, the intimacy of the limousine vanished. What am I doing here?

  As they emerged together into an opulent foyer she fought the urge to run away but, with the future snapping at her heels, Andrei guided her along the corridor towards his penthouse, towards her fate.

  There was no Christmas tree in Andrei’s apartment, no fairy lights, no cards or gifts. Sasha was immediately drawn to the wall of windows that looked out across the city where the Thames snaked its way through a myriad of lights, traffic snailed across London Bridge and Big Ben’s illuminated face hung in the sky, echoing the benign moon.

  ‘Wow. What a view. No wonder you have no Christmas decorations, you don’t need them. It looks just like fairyland down there.’

  Although he moved silently she knew instinctively when Andrei came to stand beside her. She could feel his closeness; it was as if tiny darts of electricity crackled between them, re-igniting their previous intimacy.

  ‘I forget to admire it,’ he confessed, ‘until someone like you sees it for the first time. Then it is made new again.’

  He handed her a brimming glass and, for want of something to do, she sipped more champagne. Andrei turned to look at her, forced himself to relax and lighten up a little.

  ‘I haven’t eaten since breakfast, how about you? Shall I order some food?’

  Sasha nodded. ‘Please. Something light would be nice. I am going to Mum’s for Christmas dinner tomorrow, she always cooks for an army so I need to watch what I eat if I don’t want to blow up like a balloon.’

  They dined at a table set before the window, looking out across the twinkling city, soft music playing, the lights in the apartment kept low to accentuate the view outside and soften the tension between them.

  Sasha picked at her food, watching Andrei unashamedly tuck in. She liked a man with a healthy appetite and it obviously did him no harm, he was as fit a male as she had ever seen. It would be all the hours of training, the constant use of muscles that most people didn’t know they possessed.

  As the second bottle of champagne dwindled, Sasha found herself laughing for little reason, happiness bubbling up inside her as if it would overspill at the slightest knock.

  Andrei lay back in his chair and watched her, admiring the brilliance of her eyes and the way she embroidered her words with her hands. All her shyness gone, she told him about her childhood, her parents, her hopes and her dreams and as she spoke she flicked back her tussled golden curls, having no idea that she looked more beautiful tonight than she ever had, or ever would do again.

  A short pause in the music, and then a new track began, a strain of The Blue Danube spreading about the room. Sasha stilled and put down her glass. ‘I love this,’ she whispered, ‘it reminds me of my dad.’

  ‘I love it too.’

  And then Andrei was on his feet beside her, holding out his hand. ‘Come,’ he begged, ‘dance with me.’

  Sasha’s mouth fell open. Andrei Kovalevsky was asking her to dance …and she had two left feet.

  She turned very warm and her cheeks flamed as she looked down, twisting her fingers in her lap. She shook her head. ‘I- I can’t dance.’

  ‘Sure you can. Anyone can dance with me. Come, I will guide you.’

  The tingle when he touched her fingers travelled up her arm, into her body making her breasts quiver. She felt as if she was in a sort of dream as she was pulled, against her will, to her feet. She stumbled from her seat and followed him to an expanse of polished wooden floor beside a grand piano.

  It was a waltz. He eased her toward him, positioned her body firmly against his, then he slipped an arm about her waist, took her hand in his. Sasha had spent her teenage years dreaming of this moment. Her eyes were level with his neck. Instead of making a fool of herself dancing, she longed instead to press her lips against his skin and taste his sweetness. For all she knew, she was probably no good at sex either but at least in bed she could lay passively beneath him while he exercised his famous sexual prowess upon her. On the dance floor there was nothing she could do to disguise her incompetence.

  But he was swaying, moving her in the steps of a dance she did not know.

  ‘Feel the music,’ he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. ‘Feel it in your heart, flowing in your blood and once you grasp it, relax and let yourself go with it.’

  She had to trust him but it was hard to concentrate when she was in his arms, the hardness of his body tight against hers, forcing her to move in ways she had never moved before.

  The Blue Danube played on and after a while, as her mind filled with his music, she began to enjoy it. She felt the melody was being played on her heartstrings, the beat pulsing with the blood in her veins.

  Andrei’s palm was firm beneath her fingers, the muscles of his back undulating beneath her other hand. She wanted to run her fingers over him, slide them inside his shirt, tear open the buttons and stroke the smoothness of his skin and welcome whatever it was that came next.

  They danced for a long time. When her steps faltered, he caught her close to prevent her from stumbling and, thereafter, held her more securely, until they were pressed so close that she was sure he would feel the erratic beating of her heart. She was drunk but, on some subconscious level, she knew that I wasn’t just the champagne making her want to weep and cling on to this moment for the rest of her life.

  Her head was so dizzy that she was unaware when they stopped dancing for the room continued to spin. She felt so light it was as if they floated a little way above the floor. She blinked up at him and when he reached beneath her hair and cradled her skull firmly in his big, steady hands, she relaxed fully, closing her eyes and waiting for his lips.

  ***

  ‘Have some more.’ Several hours later Andrei bubbled more champagne into her glass while Sasha pulled herself up in the bed, clasping the sheet to her breasts although it was far too late for modesty. Lisa’s red Valentino lay in a heap on the floor.

  Sasha decided to feign nonchalance; there was no way she was going to let him know he had just taken her virginity.

  ‘Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr Kovalevsky?’ she joked and Andrei barked with laughter.

  ‘It’s a little too late to worry about that, my darling. We were both drunk from the moment we met, drunk on each other.’

  He held two brimming glasses aloft and approached the bed, showing no embarrassment although he was disturbingly naked. Sasha tore her eyes from his stirring erection that indicated, even to her, that perhaps his lust was not yet quite sated. She was suddenly too warm, and at the thought of making love with him again, her tummy quivered delightfully.

  She turned her head away, pretending to admire the dawn that was just beginning to lighten the eastern sky. When the mattress sank a little beneath his weight and he tugged the sheet from her body, she kept her gaze fastened on the distant horizon. A sudden, cold shock on her skin wrenched a gasp from her lips and her body stiffened against the pillows as she turned to see Andrei tilt his glass again, trickling champagne across her bare breasts.

  He was laughing softly as he leaned forward and applied his flicking tongue to the cold bubbles that fizzed upon on her stiff, shocked nipples. A stifled cry escaped her lips as Andrei increased the pressure, taking the tip of her breast further into his mouth, pulling at it like a baby, his other hand slipping beneath the covers, searching for her sex again.

  Together they slid down the bed, mouths locked hungrily.

  ***

  The cold light of morning teased her awake and, as her full bladder drew her from sleep, Sasha blinked. It was Christmas morning. A Christmas different from any she had ever known. Oblivious, on the pillow beside her in the rumpled bed lay Andrei Kovalevsky.

  A replay
of their lovemaking fast-forwarded in her mind. She smiled, rolled luxuriantly onto her back and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling. Nothing in all the romantic novels or films she had ever known had prepared her for the reality of sex with him. Her body still thrummed from his touch, her mind reeling from the incredible, dizzying heights Andrei had taken her to.

  She closed her eyes, the echo of his loving still reverberating on her skin, his lips on hers, the sensation of his lean, hard body crushing her into the mattress. She turned her head toward him. If only he would wake up and make love to her again. She lay still and watched him for a while, trying not to wake him, he needed his sleep.

  After a while she slid from the bed and crept toward the en-suite, surprised by her reflection in the massive mirror that almost covered one wall. She didn’t only feel different but she looked different too, as if she were somehow more alive.

  Snarled, tangled hair writhed about her face, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bigger and brighter than they had ever been before. She ran a hand across her breasts, noticing the red marks left by his mouth and she smiled, hugging herself, the champagne fizz of happiness bubbling in her belly.

  A towelling robe hung from the back of the bathroom door, she took it down, noticing and rather liking, the musky scent that clung to it as she wrapped it around her. Her limbs protested a little with each movement but she enjoyed the dull ache because it was a token of his love and a reminder of how he had eased her body into positions she had never assumed before.