Page 37 of Lost & Found

I laughed, as did Marcus. “I’ll let you in on a Kinsley secret that you’ve apparently not quite figured out yet. When she is ready to take things to the next level—challenge herself, so to speak, she does this. And when I say take things to the next level, I’m not talking dance.”

“Oh,” Victoria’s eyes got wide. “You mean?”

“She puts herself in safe but risky dance moves, ones that push the envelope. She always tests the waters with Pasha first. Since dance is their love language, she equates it to if she is brave enough to do death-defying acts with him, then what’s the harm in exploring risky playroom time with her guys? The chances of her being injured are far greater here, honestly.”

“You are not lying,” she said, pushing her hair back.

I smiled, thinking about their dynamic. “You want to know something else? Pasha is just as clueless. He thinks she is simply having fun. And good for us because I personally love to see what they come up with.”

I pulled the door of the dance studio open. The rhythmic thud of music resonated in the air, setting the stage already. The studio adorned with mirrors reflected the elegance of the space. It screamed Kinsley as much as my tattoo studio screamed me.

I took a moment to watch through the glass to where Pasha and Kinsley were immersed in a delicate dance of trust and precision. My hands ached for a pencil so that I could sketch the picture before me. The magical quality of their movements, the seamless synchronization, was breathtaking. They paused, and we walked into the practice area they’d set up.

His muscles rippled as he pulled himself into a sitting position. He delicately sat on the trapeze bar. Today he was dressed in tight-fitting jeans, barefoot, and no shirt. I knew every line of his chest by heart.

I could paint it drunk with my eyes closed and still get it perfect. The thought of the smooth skin made me appreciate the hours of dedication he put toward his craft. His chest now wore my permanent mark proudly. His arm did, too. After the initial tattoo, he insisted on more ink. He was addicted. We were currently mid sleeve on a new design.

The definition of his shoulders and arms rippled with strength. His voice, which today was heavily accented, told me they’d been speaking in Russian. Every time he spoke for extended periods in his native tongue, it lingered after.

“Choba,” again, he said the word as a command. “This time, shift your weight to the left, mouse. The left, not the right.”

The way he issued the instruction, each word heavy with dominance, stirred something dormant in me. This side of Pasha wasn’t one I saw often, and today it sent a delicious shiver through my veins. Damn Victoria and her need to discuss sex this morning. Kinsley was perched standing on his shoulders. I held my breath.

She listened attentively. Her trust in him was inspiring as she absorbed his commands. I guess since she was currently blindfolded, it was a good thing. I couldn’t imagine the vulnerability of a blindfold on a regular basis let alone when one small move could mean a broken bone or worse.

“Exactly, just like that. Now, extend your right leg, trust the momentum. Twist your body and let…go.”

Here in this realm, he carried all the authority. The dance studio amplified his raw, masculine power. And as the word “go” left his mouth, Victoria and I gasped. She free-fell between his outstretched legs.

He caught her wrists and swung her body like she weighed nothing more than a feather. He shouted out moves once more in Russian. Each syllable was controlled. I couldn’t stop the flutter of excitement that mingled with a hint of unease.

As if reading my earlier thoughts, Victoria said, “He’s a different person up there, isn’t he? That man is not the same one who plays like the biggest goofball with Declan. It’s not even the same person when he’s in the Russian mode.”

I nodded, unable to speak, my eyes transfixed by the unfolding move. With a blur of movement that my brain couldn’t comprehend, she was now dangling fifteen feet off the ground, her tiny ankle held firmly in his hand.

I exhaled loudly. “It’s like watching him transform right before your eyes. I encourage you to watch it firsthand. Next time they practice at home ask to observe. You’ll see the moment he steps into the studio, a switch is pulled.”

“I had no idea he was so commanding. He’s a master at it,” Victoria mused dreamily. No doubt she was basing her next character on him. I laughed.

“You said it, not me.”

She snapped out of her daze, and we both giggled loudly. Kinsley’s head whipped around. She tapped his calf, and with a loud squeal, he brought her back up to sit next to him. She immediately sought his approval. She looked like a kid needing to use the bathroom.

“Go,” he reluctantly said, shaking his head.

He ran a hand down his sweaty chest, and I watched, mesmerized. Our eyes met, and he smirked, causing me to flush. Kinsley rushed over, her face filled with excitement and her hair damp.

“Pinkie hug. I’m sweaty,” she exclaimed, thrusting her pinkies out. “Did you see that?”

“I did, brilliant as always,” I said.

“Does Alek and Nik know what you’re doing? As brilliant as it was, it’s also very dangerous. Very,” Victoria offered, emphasizing her words.

“Yes, mom. I know and we’re careful. No, the twins don’t know, but Ivan does, so it’s not a complete withholding of the facts.”

“They won’t care in the end,” I said knowingly, nudging Victoria. Kinsley looked lost. I burst out laughing.

As Victoria continued to caution Kinsley, Pasha gracefully descended from the trapeze, his movements fluid and effortless. He approached with that confident, cocky smile playing on his lips. His eyes glinted with amusement. The shift from commander of dance to carefree man was seamless.