On a hit TV dancing competition, the dance floor isn’t the only place where things are heating up…
As the costume designer, Sherrie Alveston is in trouble when the trousers she made for Ty Webster, the superstar of the ballroom scene, split in a very unfortunate place. How is a woman supposed to concentrate when his delicious body and hungry eyes make her fumble with the needle? While she tackles with the delicate repair, Ty’s casual flirting leads to something far more intense.
But a sudden love connection always has its barriers, and Ty's dance partner, Diana, is determined to stand in their way. Coping with a damaged leg after a devastating motorbike crash, Sherrie doesn’t think she can compete with the beautiful ice queen…until Ty is forced to take drastic measures and proves to her just how needed she really is.
Sherrie rushed to her little booth, hands shaking nervously as she got ready to make the repairs. If only it had been anyone but Ty, she wouldn’t have been so careless in the first place. The attraction she felt for him never failed to disrupt her concentration. Now, she was faced with the task of being near to his well-stuffed package again. Having trouble remembering how to function while doing the repair earlier had been the cause of this dilemma.
The dancers usually kept their costumes on as the seamstresses worked; saving both time and embarrassment by not exposing what was usually very minimal underwear. A man in skin-tight Lycra couldn’t wear much more than an athletic support underneath without it showing through.
“Are you ready for me?” Ty asked, making her jump as he appeared in the doorway.
You have no idea how ready! “Yes, come on in,” she replied as calmly as her voice allowed.
Sherrie took a shaky breath and sank to her knees in front of him, ready to do the fast repair needed to get him back on set before the director blew a gasket. Her gaze travelled upwards even as she willed it not to, and her mouth went dry as she met the bulge at his groin. She coughed to cover her almost audible groan before daring to look up into his face. If he noticed her perusal, he didn’t let on.
Ty Webster was six feet of lithe sinewy muscle, with thighs that could crack walnuts, made hard from years of training. The outfit he wore exposed his broad, hairless chest, typical of what male dancers often wore for the Latin routines—a skin tight shirt, revealing strong, bulging biceps, and slashed right down to the waist. The trousers were even tighter than the damn shirt. At thirty five years old, he had the body of a man half his age thanks to years of competing at the top of his field. He’d been with Strictly Dancing since the show first aired and watching him every Sunday night had been one of Sherrie’s guilty pleasures.
Ty’s moss green eyes, dark blonde hair and killer smile knocked her off her feet even through the TV screen, but in the flesh, he was the epitome of lethal sensuality. Since then, she’d watched him from the shadows, her lust for him growing with each routine. She would’ve rather died in the motorbike accident that mangled her leg than ever let her injuries hold her back, for she had no qualms about pursuing men she wanted. But for some strange reason Ty was different. It was like he was on a pedestal she couldn’t reach.
His eyes narrowed to barely more than slits when he finally looked down at her face, mere inches from his groin. An erotic image flashed into her mind briefly and she wondered how he would react if she allowed her mouth to follow her thoughts. Without thought of the consequences, her teeth gently skimmed over the bulge stretching the fabric of his trousers, then she quickly corrected herself, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
“Are you ok?” Ty asked. “Your hands are shaking.”
“I’m scared I might prick you with the needle.” She laughed when she realized what she’d said. Good choice of word, idiot…especially when so near to his…
Ty clearly didn’t miss the humor.
“Would it be easier if I took them off?” He didn’t bother to wait for an answer, and hooked his thumbs into the waistband, sliding the trousers to his knees before she thought to avert her eyes.
The white elastic pouch of his jock strap filled her vision. For a moment she was rendered speechless. Once her mind refocused, Sherrie ducked her head and helped him step out of the pants before scurrying over to her chair to work on them. Ty kept his back to the wall, folding his hands loosely over his groin out of politeness rather than embarrassment she guessed. But he’d forgotten about the mirror behind him. Sherrie bit into her bottom lip when her gaze landed on the reflection of his tautly muscled ass.
“So, do you like it?”
Sherrie’s gaze flew up to his. Had he noticed where her eyes had been? “Excuse me?”
“Strictly Dancing—how do you like working on the show?”
She chuckled, relieved. “Oh, the show…it’s great.”
A twinkle appeared in his eyes. “And my ass? Do you like that too?”
A full bodied, uninhibited laugh tore from her throat. Ty joined in, unfolding his hands and placing them on the counter behind him, seeming to enjoy her response.
“Thank God for that,” he said. Sherrie frowned, unsure what he meant. “This is the first time I’ve seen you truly relax since you got here,” he added.
She smiled. “It’s all a bit new to me, but all of the larger-than-life characters and fake glamour actually appeal to my perverse sense of humor.” Oh shit. She hoped he didn’t think she was talking about him.
Ty appeared not to have heard her anyway. “Well, you should laugh more often. It’s very sexy.”
Forcing herself to remain calm and stick to the matter at hand, Sherrie was also well-aware that his eyes were still on her and it made her nervous all over again. Suddenly, she wished she’d made more of an effort on her appearance, as tight jeans and a scruffy t-shirt were what she usually wore.
“There, all done,” she announced, handing the garment to him and turning her back as he put it on.
“Okay, I’m decent,” he said, then chuckled when she turned to face him. “Thanks.”
Obviously, giving him privacy to dress wasn’t necessary, considering her teeth had already been against his cup. She blushed from the vivid recollection. “No problem.”
He paused by the door, as if he wanted to say something. Sherrie waited for him to speak but Ty simply continued to stare at her with an unreadable expression on his face. She held her breath as his gaze suddenly glanced down to the rest of her body, pausing for a split second on the way back up. She almost felt his gaze when it lingered on her nipples, and she didn’t need to look to know they were hard and probably visible through her thin t-shirt.
Unable to simply stand still as his eyes took a bold assessment of her body, Sherrie looked down towards the trousers she’d just repaired, checking that her stitches would hold. They were more than okay. The seam at Ty’s groin was now managing to successfully restrain the beginnings of a hard-on. She pursed her lips as the cup protecting his package visibly pushed further out, and she wondered if it was painful for a man to sport an erection in a handful of plastic.
He cleared his throat. “I didn’t get your name.”
Her gaze flew back up to his and she realized he’d caught her staring. “Sherilyn…Sherrie,” she corrected.
“Well, Sherrie,” he said, putting a sexy emphasis on the word, “I’m not gonna be able to go back out there like this am I?” He gestured down towards his swollen groin but she didn’t flinch, staring resolutely into his eyes despite the urge to allow herself just one more look. “So if you don’t mind, I’m gonna need to be alone for a minute.”
“What are you going to do?”