The Ballerina & The Fighter (Book 1) by Ursula Sinclair Page A

against a rock. None of the male ballet
dancers had anything on Maze’s thighs. I raised my gaze to his, he was watching
me, waiting I think for me to look at him before he leaned toward me and
captured my mouth. The man didn’t ask permission, he came, he saw, he
conquered.
    That’s all that I could
think. He took control of my air. I couldn’t breathe but for him. His hand
pressed against mine so I pressed in to his thigh even more, not that there was
much give. My senses were drowning in Maze. He moved his lips from mine and
began to kiss my neck; I laid my head back against the leather seat and let him
have his way. My eyes must have drifted shut because when I opened them and
they came into focus, I stared at the rear view mirror and the driver’s eyes
seemed riveted on us. We were putting on a show. I stiffened. I wasn’t one for
public displays of affection. Maze must have picked up on something being
wrong. He raised his head and looked at me then glanced toward the front,
frowning at the driver. He released my hand and placed his arm around my
shoulder pulling me closer, but he smiled at me and winked but he stopped
kissing me. While I appreciated his consideration I enjoyed his kisses. We were
quiet during the rest of the drive, but it was a companionable silence. He kept
one hand around my shoulder, and the other he kept rubbing up and down my
leather-clad arm. Like he couldn’t stop touching me. I wasn’t complaining.
    The cab pulled up to the curb
and stopped. When I looked past Maze, I saw the ferry stop. He paid the driver
and we got out. Hand in hand we went to the ticket booth and got tickets for
the next ferry. We took a seat and waited. The sky was clear but the day was
chilly. It was the last gasp of winter but spring fought to take a foot hold.
My jacket and the sweater underneath kept me warm, and Maze had me tucked into
his side, his body heat providing even more warmth. I began to appreciate the
merits of taking a boat ride in cold weather.

 
     
    Chapter Eleven
     
    Maze

               
    What
the fuck?
    When I entered the apartment
and first saw the dude with no shirt on and sweats hanging low on his hips, it
was the first thing to come to mind. Then I relaxed because he was a ballerina,
right, so had to be gay. Little did I know. Imagine my surprise when I saw some
chick with only a t-shirt on walk out a door and go over to him. Bi. Fucker was
bi. Still didn’t sit well with me that he and Ivy were roommates. Dude was not
sizing me up as a fuck buddy but as competition. Even though Ivy insisted
they’re just friends, maybe to her, but damn if that dick didn’t want more. I
know I sure as hell would. I sure as shit did.
    I shook my head to clear my
thoughts from the earlier scene. So far like last night, we were having a good
time hanging out together. Like we hadn’t been apart all those years. Falling
back into sync. I held her hand and walked onto the ferry deck. We made our way
up the stairs until we stood against the rail of the top level. God I missed
this girl. Woman. The girl she’d been was still there but matured. I tucked
some of her wind-blown hair behind her ears. Maybe it was a little too windy up
here. “You cold?” I asked Ivy.
    She looked at me with those
big brown eyes and smiled. “A little.”
    I would do anything to keep
that sparkle in her eyes. I moved over behind her, and wrapped my arms around
her stomach, blocking most of the wind off her and giving her my warmth while
taking hers into me. “Better?” I asked, as I nuzzled her ear.
    “Much.” She tilted into my
caress and placed her hands in my coat pockets, enclosing us in a little
cocoon. We stood like that as the boat moved across the Hudson River, until we
passed the Statue of Liberty. I’d never seen it before. I’d been to New York
years ago before I met Ivy to spend two weeks working with a master swordsmen,
but didn’t have much time for sightseeing then. I was glad the first time