Authors: Fiona Davenport
Tags: #accidental pregnancy romance, #alpha male romance
Dance With Me, Baby
© 2016 Fiona Davenport
All rights reserved.
Edited by PREMA Editing
Cover design by Elle Christensen
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing. For permission requests, please send your email request to
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons or living or dead, events or locales are entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ Use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
Guy Rule: No falling for a one-night stand.
eclan McGowen knew the beautiful ballerina with violet eyes was his the moment he first saw her. He doesn’t want to let her go after their one passionate night together, but he doesn’t have a choice. Not when her first international tour means the world to her.
uliette Moureaux spent four long months dreaming about her night with Declan. She never thought she’d see him again, but she underestimated his need for her. Declan hunts her down her first night back—right after she's just found out she’s pregnant with his baby.
’ve never really cared about ballet. That’s not to say I didn’t like it, I simply hadn’t thought about it. As a doctor, I didn’t have a lot of time for new hobbies and interests. But, when your best friend’s incredibly pregnant wife has tickets to see New York City Ballet perform
and she starts crying when you politely decline... That’s how I ended up spending my first night off in over a month watching flying tutus and men in tights.
There really were no bad seats in the theatre, but sitting in left center orchestra was how the ballet became the center of my world. Or, more accurately, one specific ballet dancer. She was dancing on my side of the stage, her pink costume hugging her long, lithe body in all of the right places. Under the bright lights, her skin looked lustrous and her brown hair shimmered in its slicked back bun.
I was completely captivated and she became the star of the performance. At one point, her eyes swept over our section and my breath caught in my throat as I viewed gorgeous violet eyes. For a brief moment, our gazes collided and I swore the world stopped turning.
My body came to life for the first time in, I didn’t even know how long. My heart was racing, my skin tingling, and my trousers were uncomfortably tight for the rest of the show, but I barely noticed.
When the last song was played and the dancers had retreated from the stage, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I was hoping for even just the tiniest glimpse of my ballerina.
I was hurtled back into the real world by the sound of Nancy’s voice and her hand on my shoulder. She and Kevin were standing in the row, looking at me curiously.
“Are you ready to go?” she asked. I nodded and stood, hoping the dim lighting hid the heat on my face. We exited into the aisle and Nancy slipped her arm through mine, looking up at me excitedly. “I have a surprise for you!”
Kevin groaned. “Nancy, you didn’t.” He glared at where her hands grasped my arm and quickly pulled her away, tucking her into his side.
She looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “What?” He just shook his head, and she shrugged before turning back to me. “My friend Lisa just joined NYCB and tonight was her first performance with them.”
I narrowed my eyes at Nancy but tried to keep the dark scowl off of my face. I reserved it for Kevin instead.
He put up his arms up in surrender. “Dude, I had nothing to do with this.”
Nancy huffed, ignoring him and chattering on about her friend. I pretended to listen while my mind wandered back to my ballerina.
“She invited us to get together with some of the cast—”
That got my attention. “Wait, what?”
“We’re”—she jerked her thumb at Kevin—“going to a cast party if you want to come. I really think you’d like Lisa. Please?”
Even if I could have resisted her begging, watery eyes, it wasn’t necessary. What if my girl was there? This was my chance to find her. “Sure, why not?” Nancy squealed excitedly, and I decided not to burst her little bubble by telling her I had no intention of getting to know her friend.
Somebody had booked a large industrial loft in Soho and there had to be at least two hundred people milling around. At six foot four, I stood at least a head taller than most of the room’s occupants and I continually swept the crowd in search of a pair of stunning violet eyes.
Nancy had the opposite problem and couldn’t see much from her perch at barely over five feet. “Stay right here,” she told me, patting my arm. “I’ll go find my friend.” Kevin grabbed her hand before she could get lost in the throngs of people.
“This is your chance, Dec. Make a run for it,” he murmured loud enough from my ears only. I took his advice and started wading through the crowd in the opposite direction. An hour later, I was incredibly frustrated and starting to lose hope. I paused by a large, floor-to-ceiling window and scanned the crowd again.
I shifted and something dug into my back prompting me to look down at the source of my discomfort. It wasn’t a window; it was a door. Pushing down the handle, I stepped out into the night, the crisp fall air blowing across a rooftop terrace. I let the door swing closed behind me and walked over to a tall, metal railing. The view of the city was incredible, but it was nothing compared to what I saw when I glanced to my left.
A small group of people in a cozy seating area, huddled around an outdoor heater, chatting and laughing. My eyes were completely fixated on a brunette with high cheekbones, almond shaped eyes, and a cupid’s bow mouth.
She threw her head back and laughed, and I wanted to trace the graceful lines of her neck with my tongue. Her fuzzy blue sweater was formfitting and, per position, thrust her chest forward. Like many professional dancers, her tits were not large, but fuck, they were spectacular.
As though pulled by an invisible line, I began to approach the group, my eyes trained solely on my ballerina. The rest of the group, the terrace, everything, it all faded away. At about five feet away, her head lifted and rotated in my direction. Just like before, our gazes locked, but this time, she didn’t have the performance to tear her away.
I closed the rest of the gap and stood next to her chair, looming over her. That’s when I noticed the silence, and I broke our connection to see several pairs of eyes studying me.
“Do you mind if I borrow this beautiful lady?” I asked lightly, making sure there was pleasant humor in my tone. I didn’t want to scare her off by betraying how desperately I wanted to simply toss her over my shoulder and run away to some place where I could keep her all to myself.
More silence. I held my hand out to my violet-eyed girl and waited. I hoped somewhere inside her, she understood that if she accepted this gesture, she would no longer have a choice. She would be mine.
It was the longest seconds of my life, but then she placed her hand in mine and sealed her fate. I helped her to stand and then placed my hand on the small of her back and led her away to a dark, empty corner of the roof.
When we were hidden from the view of others, I ran out of patience and slowly lowered my mouth to hers. At first, it was a few light brushes, but it wasn’t enough, so I licked along her bottom lip, requesting entrance. She parted them immediately, earning a growl of approval from deep in my chest. My hands had found their way to her lower back, and I clenched the fabric in my fists as I pulled her body flush against mine.
She tasted amazing, and the sound of a soft moan took my annoying erection straight to a fucking baseball bat. Damn, I wanted her. I needed privacy, a bed, and our naked skin touching.
I finally lifted my head and smiled at the dazed expression on her face. “What is your name, my beautiful ballerina?”
“Juliette,” she whispered. “Juliette Moureaux.”
Even her name was sexy. I ran a finger across her cupid’s bow. “Juliette,” I repeated, loving the way her name rolled off of my tongue. “I’m Declan McGowan.”
I kissed her again, unable to stop myself, and when I was on the very brink of losing it and fucking her against the wall, I tore my lips away. Looking deeply into her eyes, I decided to take a leap. Going slow wasn’t my style. When I wanted something, I went after it, full speed ahead. She might as well learn that about me from the get-go.
“Come home with me,” I demanded, careful to keep my voice gentle but firm.
She pursed her lips, which was insanely adorable, and only made my desire for her grow. Her expression tinged with worry, and I knew I wasn’t going to be happy about whatever she said next.
“I’ve never done something like that. I’m so tempted, Declan, you have no idea, but—”
“Good,” I interrupted her, not the least interested in what she had to say after “but.” I started to guide her back inside until she stopped and tugged my suit coat to keep me from continuing.
“But, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. I’m leaving tomorrow for a four month, international tour.”
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks.
I grabbed her hand and held it tight, I couldn’t let her go.
No, I had to convince her to stay. “All the more reason for us to make the most of this night.” I almost choked on the words.
“The thing is . . . there’s something about you, Declan. I just know you’re someone I could fall really hard for.”
That was it, I was done with the conversation. I lifted her against my chest and went inside, threading my way through the crowd until I reached the nearest exit. To my surprise, she wound her arms around my neck and laid her head on my chest, not uttering another word of protest. When I reached the sidewalk, I told her to hold on and raised my hand from her back to hail a cab.
Setting her inside, I followed when she scooted across the bench seat. “42nd and 5th,” I told the driver before hauling Juliette onto my lap and slanting my mouth over hers. Typical New York cabbie, he raced through the streets like a bat out of hell, hitting the brakes hard as we reached my apartment building.
I swiped my card and didn’t let go of Juliette as I got out of the car. After kicking the door shut, I stalked into my building, nodding at the doorman who opened my private elevator so I could march straight in. The door closed and I crashed my mouth down over hers. I dropped Juliette’s feet to the ground, then bent my knees so I could grip the globes of her incredible ass and lift her, forcing her legs around my waist.
Moving forward, I pressed her back to the wall and ground my cock into the heat between her thighs. She cried out and it took every fucking ounce of my strength not to come right then and there. I was saved by the ding of the elevator letting me know we’d reached the penthouse on the fourteenth floor. It opened up right into my living room and I headed straight for the couch, unable to make it any farther.
I lowered us both down onto the cushions, my mouth releasing hers so we could both catch our breath. My hands tunneled under her sweater, shoving it up over her head and off. Then I popped the catch of her bra and my mouth instantly watered. Her tits were fucking perfect. Round and creamy, tipped with hard, pink little peaks. I swooped down and took one in my mouth, nibbling and sucking while she moaned and shivered beneath me.
My control was wearing thin and I wanted to taste her pussy before I took her, so I slid down her body. She was wearing black sailor pants, buttoned over her flat belly. Amazingly, I didn’t rip off any of the brass discs in my haste to remove her bottoms. The same cannot be said of the virginal, lacy white panties I found underneath. I dropped my head to bury my nose against her, inhaling deeply, filling my lungs with the scent of her arousal.
The fabric was soaked clear through and it ripped away easily when I tugged at the seams. Without any more barriers, I used two fingers to open her lips wide and lick up the center. I groaned at the burst of flavor on my tongue. She tasted even better than she smelled.