19. Trevor

19

TREVOR

Randi jumps into my arms, laughing, and I spin her around.

“We did it!” she yells, hugging me as I walk us over to where Ian stands near the judges’ table.

We just danced the jive in the semifinal round, and it’s up to the judges and the audience to decide if we were good enough to send me and Sophie through to next week’s finals.

Carlo is standing, giving us his slow clap of approval. All the judges are smiling.

“Finally! You look like you’re enjoying yourself, Trevor! We’ve been waiting to see that all season. It’s a shame it’s under these circumstances.”

Nope, not answering that. I leave Randi with Ian and jog across the dance floor to where Sophie is sitting next to Declan. She’s smiling, but I can see the strain behind it. Some of it has to be physical pain, but I know how badly she wishes she was there on the floor. I scoop her up in my arms and walk back to Ian and Randi. Cheers echo throughout the ballroom. Sophie tucks her face against my neck for a moment before lifting her head and waving to the crowd.

“How’s your ankle, Sophie?” Glen asks.

“Sore and swollen,” Sophie says with a grimace. “But fingers crossed I’ll get to show it’s healed in next week’s finals.”

“So what did you think of Trevor and Miranda’s jive? That was your choreography?” Mary Ann asks.

“Put me down, please,” Sophie says, but I pretend not to hear her. She sighs. “It was. It plays into Trevor’s strengths with acrobatics and lifts. I think they did a terrific job. They’ve danced together for years, and Miranda’s been my best friend since childhood. If I couldn’t do it, there’s no one else I’d rather have take my spot.”

The girls share a hug, which is awkward because I’m holding Sophie, but it ends up being a group hug.

“I hate it was under these circumstances,” Randi says once she pulls out of our hug. “But Trevor and I dreamed of appearing together on a show like this when we were in college, so it’s exciting to cross it off the bucket list. I’m so grateful to the producers for the opportunity.” She laughs self-deprecatingly. “No one cares about me. Let’s talk about how wonderful a choreographer Sophie is! She’s so creative. I’m in awe of her talent. I hope everyone votes so she has her chance to dance in the finale!”

The crowd cheers. Glen raises his hand to silence them.

“Ready for your scores?” he asks.

Before he raises his paddle, Glen smiles at Miranda. “If you decide you want to give this a go and be a pro, call me!”

Sophie keeps her smile firmly in place, but I can feel the tension Glen’s statement causes in her. That he can so cavalierly offer it to Randi when Sophie has been working her ass off at it for years pisses me off. Even the sight of Glen holding up a ten doesn’t make it better.

“That’s yours,” I whisper in her ear. When Carlo and Mary Ann also hold up tens, putting Randi and me at the top of the scoreboard, I press a kiss to her cheek before telling Ian, “They belong to your sister. We couldn’t have done it without Sophie.”

“She’s awesome,” Ian says. “The best choreographer I know.”

We were the last couple to dance, so we only need to wait through a commercial break and some chatter before the five couples stand on the dance floor and wait to be informed of our fates. Sophie is back in her seat in the audience next to Mac. I wanted to continue holding her in my arms for the results, but the director wouldn’t let me, so I had to return her during the break. Something about three being a crowd. Asshole.

“How do you stand doing this each week?” Randi murmurs through her smile. “I feel like the prized poodle at a dog show.”

“I thought you’d think of show ponies before dogs,” I quip.

The cameraman counts us down as Ian and DeeDee prepare to give the results.

“Wow! We had an incredible audience vote tonight! Did America agree with our judges, or are we in for an upset?” DeeDee asks with wide-eyed anticipation.

“Only one way to find out, DeeDee.” Ian waves a folded slip of paper. The paper’s just for show—they get the results through their earpieces. “Are we ready?”

The crowd applauds on cue and quiets down after a few moments.

“As you know,” Ian says, “only three couples will move on to next week’s finals. You’ve all worked so hard and should be proud of yourselves, no matter your placement.” That’s not true though. The two couples that are announced safe are obviously feeling better than the three couples still on stage, knowing the odds are stacked against them being the couple to stay.

DeeDee makes a sad face for the camera. “The first couple we have to say goodbye to is…” I hold my breath, praying Sophie’s dream isn’t over. Randi and I both let out a whoosh and squeeze each other’s hands when our names aren’t called. We step to the center of the floor with the other remaining couple, wishing each other luck. They had a high score from the judges too, so it’s not a slam dunk.

“It’s time to find out who will dance in next week’s finale,” Ian says. “Good luck to both couples.”

My eyes are locked with Sophie’s as she sits clutching Mac’s hand.

“The celebrity safe to dance in next week’s final is…Trevor Carter!”

Randi squeals next to me and wraps me in a hug. Mac and Sophie are hugging, and she’s wiping tears from her eyes.

On autopilot, we hug the departing couple and then back away so they can be the focus of the attention. I go to Sophie and pick her up in a hug. I want to kiss her in the worst way. Or the best way. Hell, I want to kiss Sophie Mackenzie in all the ways.

“We did it, princess,” I say, laughing and spinning her around, mindful that I don’t swing her injured ankle into anything.

“ You did it, boyo. You and Miranda, thank you so much.”

Randi joins our group hug, and so do Mac and Ian. I’m suddenly the filling of a Mackenzie sandwich, not something I ever expected to be.

A few hours later, the excitement has fizzled into frustration as I try to help Sophie through our hotel. We’re staying overnight in New York before game two of our wild card series tomorrow night. Sophie’s on crutches and refuses to let me carry her everywhere. Stubborn woman. Can’t she see I need to take care of her? I need to make sure she doesn’t injure herself further. And I want to take advantage of every moment I can to hold her in my arms. This time next week, our fling will be over. It’s probably better to end it now before we get too attached and break our hearts. Okay, my heart is going to break, but if I can protect Sophie’s, I will. Who knows? Maybe my worry is for nothing, and she hasn’t changed her mind about wanting anything more than a fling.

Just because I’m dreading this ending doesn’t mean she is. She’s going to be living her dream as a pro on the show. She’s going to have a new partner and work with him as closely as we did. Maybe they’ll have a spark and he’ll be the one she’s meant to be with. She may not even be on the US version of the show. There are versions all over the world. She could end up on the UK show with Ian. Hell, she could end up in Australia or New Zealand. She won’t want to be tied down when all of that’s available to her.

Putting down our dance bags, I grab water bottles from the mini fridge and offer one to Sophie after she’s settled on the sofa.

“You need to elevate your foot, honey. Do you want it on the table or on the sofa?” I bend down to press a quick kiss to her lips. “Lap?” I sit next to her on the sofa, and she rests her bandaged ankle on the throw pillow I place on my lap. “How’s it feeling?”

Sophie wiggles her toes. “Throbby. But I should be okay to dance on Sunday or Monday. I’ve had worse. It’s just damn inconvenient timing. The final is a freestyle dance of our choice. We can do whatever we want. It doesn’t have to be ballroom or Latin. It can be contemporary, tap, ballet.”

“Hmm…” I rest my hands on her uninjured leg. “Do you have any ideas? Do you like dancing contemporary? I’ve had ballet training.”

She cocks her head, making her blonde ponytail swing to the side. It’s irresistible, like golden silk running through my fingers.

“You had ballet training? Really?”

“Yeah, until I was thirteen. That’s when I got more involved with hockey and stopped taking dance lessons with my cousins. I enjoyed it when I got to partner with girls who weren’t my cousins.” I chuckle. “I was bigger and stronger than most boys my age, so I’d often pair the older girls who were more developed than girls my age. Just as well I stopped. Things were getting embarrassing as I hit puberty. Tights don’t hide a damn thing, you know.”

Her tinkling laugh makes my heart happy. “Yeah, with all you’ve been blessed with, there’s no hiding it.”

That earns her a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Thank you for noticing.”

“Well, it’s kinda hard to miss!”

“Kinda hard is always accurate when I’m with you.”

She pouts. “Just kinda? We need to fix that.”

Leaning forward, she lifts her sweater over her head, leaving her in a pale blue lace bra that lovingly cups her breasts.

I reach out to trace a fingertip along the edge of her bra. Goosebumps pebble her skin. Not from a chill, more from the heat between us.

“How do you propose we do that?” I ask. I know what I’d like to do, but she’s the one with the injury we need to be mindful of.

“Hmm…” Sophie cups her chin in a classic thinking pose. “I need to keep my ankle elevated, so if I keep it thrown over your shoulder, that should do the trick. I’ve heard that endorphins are natural painkillers, and orgasms release endorphins. Do you have any aches that need relief?”

It’s my turn to adopt a thinking pose. I tap a fingertip against my lip, scrunch my face a bit, and look toward the ceiling. Sophie’s thinking face is much cuter. Hell, everything about Sophie is cuter.

“I think I have a few. Probably best if we move to the bed, so we have room to relieve them.”

Her grin is mischievous. “I fit on this sofa just fine. What’s the problem?”

My hand slides up the leg of her black slacks, seeking the spot behind her knee that I know is ticklish.

“Don’t you dare,” she warns. “Not unless you want something to ache for a whole other reason.”

My fingers tiptoe back down her calf, away from the danger zone. She has brothers. I know this isn’t an idle threat. I scoop her up in my arms and stand. The room isn’t big, so it only takes a couple of steps to get to the king-size bed. Mindful of Sophie’s injury, I place her gently on the bed and straighten so I can remove my shirt. She’s reaching behind to unclasp her bra and then reaching to open the closure of her slacks.

I cover her hands with mine. “Lay back, I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of everything.” My wink is flirty. “Enjoy your endorphins.”

We work together to slide her pants down her legs without putting any stress on her injured ankle. The lacy blue panties that match her bra are all she’s wearing. I remove them with my teeth after kissing my way up her uninjured leg. Knowing how important it is for Sophie to keep her ankle elevated, I don’t take any chances and place both legs over my shoulders. Safety first.

The scent of her arousal is intoxicating. The taste of her is ambrosia. I’d be happy to do this for the rest of my life. Forget hockey, forget dance, just let me be in this bed with Sophie. Let the outside world forget we exist.

But that’s not possible. So we’ll have to take what we can from the moments we have left. I take my time nuzzling along the inside of Sophie’s slender thighs, dropping teasing kisses and little nips as I get ever closer to her core. The strong muscles of her legs tremble from desire. Her ankle rubs against my back when I finally apply my tongue and fingers where her whimpers and pleas have been begging me to be. When she’s trembling from the aftershocks of her first orgasm, I give one last languid lick, grab a condom from the hotel nightstand, and make quick work of sheathing myself. Thank goodness Sophie is a goddess of flexibility so we can keep her ankle elevated as I slowly push in her.

We both sigh at the rightness of being together. I force myself to remain in the moment and not think about how this will be one of the last times we’re together like this. All that matters is now, and I’m going to give her every last part of me because after loving Sophie, I’ll never love anyone like this again. With every stroke and caress, I let my body tell her what I can’t say with words. When we’ve both reached our release and are cuddling under the covers, I want to weep. For the first time, I’m thinking about giving up on my vow not to have kids. I like kids; I love my nephews. It’s not that I think I’ll be a bad father; I’d make sure everyone had what they needed. But I know I’d be doing it to make Sophie happy, and I’m afraid I’d resent it. I can’t do that to her or to our children. I won’t ever let someone I love feel like they weren’t the life I dreamed of.