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msbigredmachine · 2 months ago

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An Angelic Christmas (Roman Reigns)

On their first Christmas together, Roman and Naima share heartfelt gifts, tender moments, and an intimate celebration that deepens their connection. A glimpse into the unlikeliest of love stories that’s about to unfold.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Black fem OC

Warnings: SMUT

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: This is based off characters from my upcoming multi-chapter Roman fic (yes I know, it's been a while, lol) to be out in January. Look out for it!

gif belongs to @romanreigns

divider belongs to @bernardsbendystraws

The Miami sun is high in the sky, casting its golden rays over the famed city. Palm trees sway gently in the breeze, adorned with twinkling lights that sparkle even in the daylight, giving the vibrant streets a festive charm.

Roman’s penthouse, perched high above the bustling streets, is no exception. Ornaments of red and green and gold glimmer on a ten-foot high Christmas tree standing in the corner of the living room, a towering contrast to the sleek modernity of the space. It’s not exactly the snowy holiday Naima grew up with in Atlanta, but she’s not complaining. Not when she’s with her man.

Naima hums along to “All I Want for Christmas Is You” blasting through the speakers, twirling a wooden spoon in her hand as she checks on the smoky jollof rice in the kitchen. The turkey is ready and well stuffed, so that is settled. Her bare feet pad softly across the hardwood floor, her movements fluid and effortless, the dancer in her kicking in. Chief, their three-month-old Staffy puppy, is sprawled nearby, lazily gnawing on a holiday-shaped chew toy that she bought him.

Roman sets the table, looking at his girlfriend with an amused smirk. “Mariah again?” he teases, his deep voice cutting through the music.

Naima turns, feigning offense. “Not you actin' like you don’t love this song, big guy.”

He chuckles, stepping closer to her. “It’s a classic, I’ll give you that.”

She rolls her eyes, scoops a spoonful of rice and blows on it before holding it up to his lips. “Here. Taste this.”

Roman takes the bite, chewing slowly. The smoky flavor hits his tongue first, followed by the rich spices that taste even better than the last one she made a month ago. He lets out a low hum of approval.

“Damn, baby,” he says, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

Naima grins, her beautiful brown eyes sparkling. “That’s just the rice. Wait till you try the turkey and plantain.”

Roman glances at the counter where the massive golden-brown turkey rests, surrounded by perfectly caramelized plantains and a big bowl of sapasui specially made for him. His diet, meticulously planned for his wrestling, is going to take a serious hit tonight. But he doesn’t care. It’s Christmas, and Naima’s cooking is worth every cheat day.

“Diet starts tomorrow,” he declares, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her close.

“Tomorrow,” she insists, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Tonight, you’re eating everything I made, handsome.”

Roman chuckles to himself as she kisses his cheek and walks away, his gaze dropping to those long, shapely legs of hers. Naima has been in his life for a while now, but every time they are together, it feels like a fresh challenge—a battle of wills he doesn’t mind losing. Most of the time.

The table is set with mismatched plates—his playful touch—and candles flickering softly in the center. Chief sits obediently at the side, eyeing the turkey but making no moves toward it, as if he knows better. The couple sits right next to each other on the table. Roman’s red-and-green sweater fits him perfectly, hugging his broad shoulders and muscular chest. Naima’s matching sweater is oversized and hangs loose on her frame, exposing one shoulder and riding up her thighs each time she moves. Of course, Roman notices, and his hand rests possessively on her thigh, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles in that affectionate, sensual way that always leaves her weak.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” Naima says, nodding toward the huge tree and the perfectly arranged garland along the fireplace. “I know Christmas isn’t your thing like that.”

Roman smiles, his hand tightening just slightly on her leg. “Yeah, well, I figured you’d cry if we didn’t at least have a tree.”

Naima smacks his shoulder, though a grin spreads across her face. “You ain’t right!”

“I’m just sayin’,” he teases, his baritone laced with humor. “You been talking about Christmas since Halloween ended. Couldn’t let you down, mamas. After all, this is your first Christmas outside Atlanta. Am I right?”

Naima nods and sips her glass of champagne. “Yep. Feels weird not being with Adara and Julien, but…this is nice. Different, but nice.”

Roman cuts out a large piece of turkey and places it in Chief’s bowl, the little puppy gobbling the meat happily. “You talk to them today?” he asks. Knowing how close she is to her sister and nephew, he can already guess the answer.

“Of course,” she replies, “Adara says hi. And Julien was hyped about that new wrestling game you sent him. You officially won Christmas with that.”

He chuckles, proud. “Kid’s got good taste.”

Naima leans back in her chair, watching her boyfriend for a moment. There's something so easy about the way they’re together, the way they fit into each other’s lives despite their wildly different worlds. She loves this version of Roman—relaxed, unguarded, a far cry from the intense Tribal Chief persona that dominates the squared circle. Here, he gets to be just him. With her. His safe space.

She's honored.

“I’m glad I’m here with you,” she tells him, affection in her voice.

Roman’s gaze softens. “Me too, baby girl.”

After dinner, they retreat to the couch, plates of leftover plantain and wine glasses in hand. Chief curls up at their feet, munching on a leftover turkey leg. Roman’s arm is draped over Naima’s shoulder, his fingers lazily playing with her long hair. She rests against him, her legs stretched across his lap as “Home Alone” plays on the 64-inch TV.

“You got one more present,” Roman announces suddenly.

Naima raises an eyebrow. “I thought we agreed on no more presents.” They've already exchanged small gifts earlier in the day—she gave him a custom leather wrestling gear bag embroidered with his initials, and he surprised her with a sleek pair of Saint Laurent knee-high boots she’d been eyeing for months.

“I ain’t agree to shit,” he smirks, a small, wrapped box materializing in his hand. “Here.”

Naima sits up, taking the box from him and unwrapping it carefully. Her jaw drops as she takes in the unmistakable Harry Winston packaging, her fingers trembling slightly as she unties the ribbon. She carefully opens the box, her breath catching as her eyes fall on the exquisite piece inside—a diamond necklace that glimmers like a constellation of stars. The delicate chain, made of intricate diamond clusters, forms a flawless, radiant circle that exudes elegance and timeless luxury, leaving her utterly speechless.

“Baby…”

“I saw it and thought of you,” he says, his tone casual, though the way his eyes linger on her face betray how much the gift means to him. “You light up my life, mamas. Figured it was fitting.”

Her throat tightens as he helps her put the necklace on, the cool chain resting against her skin. “Thank you. It’s so beautiful,” she whispers.

“Well, it was either this or the anklet,” he adds with a cheeky wiggle of his eyebrows as he caresses the back of her leg, “Woulda been great for these long-ass legs I can’t stop staring at.”

“You always gotta be so extra,” she giggles, her voice teasing but shaky.

Roman grins, his eyes bright and happy. “You bring it out of me,” he whispers, his heart swelling as she holds him tight. He will never tire of moments like this with her.

“Your turn,” she announces, reaching behind the couch to grab a flat, rectangular package.

Roman unwraps the paper carefully, revealing a framed portrait of the two of them sitting on an equipment crate backstage after his match at Summerslam. He was still in his wrestling gear, his Undisputed Championship resting on his lap, while Naima sat beside him, close enough for their thighs to touch. Her arms are around him and their eyes are closed, heads tilted and leaning against each other as if the world had disappeared for just that moment. The image, captured by Naomi, radiates intimacy and quiet strength, capturing everything unspoken between them in that stillness.

He is quiet for a moment, his gaze lingering on the frame.

“You don’t like it?” Naima questions, suddenly uncertain.

“I love it,” he breathes, his voice low but full of emotion. “This…” He trails off, his fingers grazing the edge of the frame. “This is amazing, baby girl.”

“I wanted you to have something to remind you of who’s always in your corner,” she says, her voice soft and sincere.

Roman sets the frame down carefully and hugs her again. “I love you. You’re my everything,” he murmurs, the weight of his words settling between them.

Naima shivers, her heart racing for him like it always does. “I love you too. And you’re mine.” Her fingers clasp behind his neck as she pulls him in for a kiss. It starts slow, purposeful, their lips meeting in a way that feels as natural as breathing. Naima’s hands frame Roman’s face, her fingertips brushing against his beard as their mouths move in perfect sync. It's sensual, unhurried, yet electric enough to send shivers down their spines.

Roman’s large hands roam down her back, possessive and sure, pulling her closer until she’s in his lap. When she moans softly into his mouth, it ignites something primal in him. The sound drives him crazy, her lips and her voice working together to undo him in a way no one else ever has. It’s a reminder of everything they share—the connection that goes beyond words, beyond the teasing and playful banter.

When they finally pull apart, she rests her forehead against his, her breathing unsteady. “Believe it or not, I got one more gift for you,” she informs him, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “It’s red and made of satin and lace.”

“Yeah?” Roman’s voice roughens, his hands still on her hips.

She leans in close, her teeth tugging on his earlobe as she whispers, “Mm-hmm. But you get to see it later.”

Roman groans low in his throat, his hold on her tightening. “You really tryna test my patience, huh?”

Naima laughs, sliding off his lap before he can pull her back. “Ya know what they say, baby; patience is a virtue.”

The rest of the night passes in a haze of laughter, wine, and stolen touches. Chief dozes near the fireplace, his tiny snores filling the silence of the now-muted TV. As Naima cleans up the dishes from their late-night snacks, Roman leans against the counter, watching her.

“You ever think about what’s next?” he asks suddenly.

She glances over her shoulder, her brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“For us,” he elaborates, his voice unwavering.

Naima pauses, her hands stilling. “I mean…I’m happy right now. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he says, his lips twitching into a small smile. “I am. But I’m talking like, big picture. Like, what happens when we’re not doing this flying-back-and-forth shit anymore? What if you moved to Miami permanently? With me.”

Naima turns to face him fully, leaning against the sink. “That means leaving Adara and Julien in Atlanta. Leaving Exotica. I know you’d love that,” she rolls her eyes.

Roman shrugs. “Well, it is your workplace, regardless of my feelings towards it. But we can figure that out together. Right?”

She exhales, crossing her arms. “I don’t know. I try not to think about it too much. Kinda feels like jinxing it.”

He pushes off the counter, narrowing the distance between them. “I get it. I just want you to know I’m serious about this. About us. I don’t care where you came from or what you’ve done. I just…I’m all in with you.”

Naima gazes at him, her chest tightening. “You sure you know what you’re gettin’ into, Reigns?” she whispers.

Roman grins, his hands finding her waist. “Baby girl, I’ve been sure pretty much since the day I met you.”

Her smile is wide and her heart feels impossibly full. “Guess I better go put your present on, then.”

Roman’s laughter echoes through the penthouse as she saunters off, her long legs carrying her toward his bedroom. “Don’t take too long,” he calls after her.

Ten minutes later, Naima’s heart is still racing with excitement. She can feel the heat of the shower still lingering on her body, buzzing with the anticipation of what is to come. Roman’s words echo in her head; “Don’t take too long.”

A playful grin crosses her lips. It will definitely be worth the wait.

The silk robe is soft and gentle on her skin as she moves around the bedroom. The lights are dimmed just enough to set the mood. She reaches for the speaker, turning on a playlist full of sultry, slow R&B songs that she uses for her private dances. Usually, she has an audience of several, tossing dollars at her, hungry for more. Tonight, her audience consists of just one, the most important one; Roman Reigns himself, her man…her everything.

She stands in front of the full-length mirror and lets her long, damp hair cascade down her back, shimmering under the soft lighting. She takes a deep breath as she eyes her reflection, seeing a stark difference between the woman staring back at her and the one from seven years ago.

Well done, Naima. Well done.

She quickly goes to the gift bag she’d tucked away, pulling out the lingerie she had purchased specially for him—a festive red set with white fur trim and a playful Santa-inspired design. The bra and thong set hugs her curves perfectly, and she can feel herself getting wetter, more eager. She doesn’t need much of an excuse to get her man all worked up, but tonight? Tonight is different.

She peeks her head through the door and calls out to him, her voice low and teasing. “Baby, I need some help in here!”

As he enters the bedroom, his gaze immediately falls on her—no longer in the oversized sweater, but in blood red lingerie, looking like a vision. His mouth goes dry, his pants tightening as he drinks in the sight.

“Goddamn, baby girl,” he mutters, his voice hoarse with desire. He leans against the doorframe, his eyes scanning her, taking in the way the fabric clings to her slender body. “You look fucking incredible.”

“You like it, big daddy?” she asks, her voice dripping with temptation as she strikes a pose that extends her already long legs.

“Like it? I fucking love it,” he growls, his voice rough with desire. “But how the hell are you not tired from all the cooking?”

Naima’s lips curve into a sultry smile as she inches closer to him, her hips swaying with every step. “I’m never too tired to please you, Ro.”

Roman’s expression softens, but there’s a spark of something else in his eyes—anticipation. He doesn't respond at first, just watches as she takes his hand and leads him to the bed, motioning for him to sit. He obeys without question, his body already tingling with desire.

She walks over to the speakers and turns the volume up just enough. The sultry, slow beat of “To My Bed” by Chris Brown fills the room, its sensual tone ensconcing them both like a velvet blanket. She stands for a moment, letting the rhythm of the song take over her body. The satin fabric of her lingerie shimmers as she dances, her movements sensual and determined, drawing him in. There’s no rush from her—each motion is deliberate, designed to drive him crazy.

Roman’s hands rest on his knees, gripping them tightly, the intensity in his gaze saying more than words can express. His breath quickens as she turns and gives him an eyeful of the thong that’s swallowed up by her fat, bountiful ass cheeks. Then, she slowly approaches him, her legs long and lithe, flexing with an effortless grace. She leans forward, pushing her chest in his face, her hands smoothing over his broad shoulders.

“You like what you see, big guy?” she inquires, her voice low and smokier than her jollof, dripping with sex and authority, knowing she has him in the palm of her hand.

“Damn right I do,” Roman growls in response, his hands closing over her breasts, the tension in the air as thick as a storm about to break.

A slow smile plays across her lips, a smile that sends shivers through him. She reaches up and places a Santa hat on his head, her fingers brushing over his scalp before letting the hat sit on top.

“Guess you’re my Christmas gift, huh?” she teases, winking at him, her fingers lightly tapping the top of the hat.

Roman can’t help but snicker despite the lust pulsing through him. “You know it, mamas. Just unwrap me already.”

Naima stands in front of him for a moment, her body swaying, the sheer satin glistening against her skin as the lights of the room catches the fabric just right. Roman’s eyes roam over her, memorizing every inch. Her body, her long legs, that damn sexy smile of hers, the way she looks in the tiny underwear. She knows how to play him like a violin, and tonight he is her willing instrument.

Naima’s smile grows as she slowly unhooks her bra, letting it fall to the floor, exposing the breasts and pierced nipples that never fail to make his mouth water. She drops down low, then slowly rolls back up as her hands run over her curves, caressing herself. She hears his breathing getting heavier, and that only fuels her further. She lets the music take control, her body moving with a confidence that only Roman can bring out of her.

His eyes are glued to her, his expression a mix of lust and admiration. “You’re killing me, mamas,” he growls, his voice clogged with desire.

She stops for a moment, standing in front of him, her ample chest rising and falling with each breath. “Oh, I’m just getting started, big guy,” she purrs, her voice low and sultry. “You’ve been a good boy tonight, so I think you’ve earned a little something special.”

Roman chuckles darkly, his hands resting on the bed now, the muscles in his jaw flexing. “You’ve got no idea what I’m gonna do to you after this.”

Naima smirks, her confidence skyrocketing as his hungry stare stalks her every move. With her back to him, she sensually shimmies between his parted legs and lowers herself onto his lap. Her backside rests right on his crotch as she keeps moving, rolling her ass back and forth in a manner that makes his jaw clench. She throws a sly glance over her shoulder, catching the way his hands twitch, aching to touch her again.

“What’s the matter, big guy? Can’t handle it?” she taunts, her voice low and teasing.

Roman exhales sharply, his resolve crumbling as his hands shoot up to grab her waist. His fingers dig into her skin as she bounces her ass on him, the enticing rhythm making his entire body flare up with heat. “Goddamn, baby.”

Naima’s laugh is rich, full of mischief and lust as she presses back harder, causing him to groan. “That’s right, daddy, watch me throw this fat ass on you,” she moans, steadying herself with her hands on his knees while her hips and ass do all the talking.

Roman tilts his head back for a moment, shutting his eyes tightly as he feels himself throb from the near unbearable friction. “You keep this up and I’m not gonna last long,” he growls, reaching out to squeeze her backside wreaking havoc on his stiff crotch.

“That's the plan,” she shoots back, grinding against him some more before standing up abruptly, leaving him gaping at her like she’s just snatched his soul. “Gotta give Santa his Christmas dance,” she giggles, stepping back and twerking to the music again.

Roman licks his lips as he adjusts himself and the hat on his head. “Santa’s getting impatient, baby girl. You better finish that dance quick before I take what’s mine.”

Naima's eyes are fixated on her man as she tugs on the waistband of her thong and slips it down her legs, tossing it playfully at him which he catches easily. Her body is now completely bare, save for the light sheen of sweat that clings to her skin, making her glow. She straddles him again, leaning in so their noses almost touch. “What if I don’t wanna finish, big daddy?” she murmurs, her lips brushing his teasingly.

This time, Roman doesn’t hesitate. He grips her thighs and flips them over, pinning her beneath him. The bed shifts under their combined weight as he stares down at her, his smirk widening. “I know where I wanna finish,” he mutters, his voice catching right before he crushes his mouth to hers. His big hands eagerly roam her curves as he presses himself against her, the warmth of her naked body sparking a fire he can’t extinguish.

With a teasing grin, Naima pulls his sweater off him and helps him shove his pants down. Then, moving with surprising speed and strength, she rolls them over so she is back on top. Her hands smooth down his chest, running her fingers over the muscles of his abdomen, and she reaches down to grip his length, massaging him for a second or two before sliding him inside her.

With a soft moan, she sits up and presses her hands on his chest, pinning him down as he drops his hands from her waist to her ass, squeezing the supple cheeks. His grip tightens as she rides him with the skill of an equestrian, her shapely hips rolling and rotating, seemingly spelling her name on him. He can feel her wetness seeping between them, the friction driving him crazy.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, “You make me lose my fuckin' mind.”

Naima dips down, capturing his lips with a passion that sends fireworks off in his brain. The kiss is deep, intense—needy. Their tongues tangle with an urgency that speaks volumes to their never-ending lust for each other, Roman’s hips joining the frantic dance of want as he meets her halfway with deep thrusts right against her sweet spot. The scent of her perfume—something floral and warm—mingles with the sweet musk of desire, and his head spins from the intoxicating combination.

“Shit, Ro…” Naima moans. She grips the pillow behind Roman’s head as she pounces and bounces on his dick with increased urgency, the slickness of her pussy, the feel of him deep inside her, making everything feel like it’s about to explode. She lets out another breathy moan, her face nuzzling his neck, her heavy pants sprouting goosebumps on his skin. Roman’s breath catches in his throat as the feel of her beautiful body writhing on top of him, along with a dizzying myriad of sensations, nudges him closer to the edge.

“Fuck,” he growls, his eyes hazy with pleasure as he stares up at her, “Baby, I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

Naima smiles down at him, her hair falling over her shoulders in soft waves, her chest rising and falling in tandem with her rising and falling on his dick. She cups his face, gazing right into his eyes as she whispers, “Tell me I’m the best you’ve ever had.”

Roman’s eyes darken with lust. It’s the easiest confession he’ll ever make. “You're the best I’ve ever had, baby girl. By a mile. Don’t nobody fuck me like you do,” he professes.

Her body responds to his praise like a fine-tuned instrument. Her movements become faster, more desperate with every dropdown. Their foreheads press together, and she groans as he suddenly shifts and flips her underneath him. He hitches her legs higher around his waist and pumps into her determinedly, cursing as the new angle deepens his reach inside her. Overwhelmed, Naima's eyes squeeze shut, her fingernails in his back, swept away by the intensity of their passion, reverberating through the entire master bedroom as euphoria comes calling. The bed rocks harder from the force of Roman's thrusts, indescribable pleasure drawing them closer and closer.

“Open your eyes, Naima. Look at me when you come,” Roman coaxes her with a kiss, his voice almost pleading as his fingers brush along her stomach and find that sensitive spot between her legs. He toys with it, his personal pleasure button, playing with the sticky mess she’s made and luxuriating in the sounds of her shaky moans as he fucks her into the mattress.

Naima obeys and locks glazed, unfocused eyes with him, barely holding on as the world crescendos around them. Only a half-minute later, it all comes crashing down like a tidal wave—powerful, overwhelming, all-encompassing. Naima screams as her juices gush from the impact, all over his dick, her entire frame shaking with the bone-tingling intensity of her orgasm. Roman’s grip on her and on reality falters as her pussy tightens around him, sparking his release, his drenched dick pulsing and twitching as he fills her to the brim. They collapse together, panting and sweaty, spent and wrecked. He rolls onto his back and immediately pulls her close, his face buried in her hair as he struggles to catch his breath.

Naima lets out a contented sigh, smiling as she nestles against his chest. “Guess that was a Christmas gift for both of us, huh?” she murmurs.

Roman chuckles, his lips meeting her forehead. “You’re the best gift I could ever ask for, baby.”

She smiles up at him, her heart warm and full. “And you’re mine. You don’t know what you’ve done for me, Roman.”

And with one more heartfelt kiss, they cling to each other, their bodies still buzzing from the most beautiful experience, knowing that the holiday season has brought them even closer—if that was even possible.

🎄THE END...for now.🎄

Merry Christmas and happy holidays!

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szariahwroteit · 2 months ago

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Doll House: A Jude Bellingham + Orginal Character Erotic Series.

18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 1

Although Victoria lived and breathed ballet, her passion could not overshadow the toll the art form exacted on her body and soul. The rigorous discipline of dance had transported her halfway across the globe, where she faced myriad challenges as a young woman striving to discover her identity while navigating the complexities of life.

“Perfection!” exclaimed Margaux, the esteemed choreographer of the dance company, her eyes scrutinizing every movement as she observed the dancers performing their routine with acute precision.

As Tori glided across the polished wooden floor, her thighs burned with exertion and her arms felt weighty, a testament to the countless hours of practice. Each leap and pirouette required immense concentration, her breath coming in quick, shallow wafts as she focused intently on maintaining her form. The crescendo of the music reverberated through the studio, guiding her movements toward the grand finale of the dance.

“¡Excelente!” Margaux called out, her accent thick and voice bright with enthusiasm as she applauded, pivoting on the balls of her feet with infectious energy. As Tori and the other dancers approached their belongings, fatigue lingered in their limbs, but a shared glow of accomplishment shone in their eyes, a silent acknowledgement of the artistry they had poured into their performance.

“I'm so tired,” Tori huffed as she took a seat beside her bag, pulling her pointe shoes from her feet before stretching them, letting out a groan of relief as her toes finally escaped the confines of the tight-fitting shoes. “I didn’t think today’s rehearsal would be so intense.”

“Are you coming to the gala tonight?” one of the other dancers asked as she turned to look at Tori, who sat on the floor with her legs stretched out in front of her.

Tori nodded her head, tiredness lacing her voice. “I think Margaux would banish me if I didn't. She’s been talking about it all week.”

With the end of the calendar year came the festive season, and to celebrate the dance company's success, they hosted a Christmas gala. An event that had been the talk of the studio for the last week or so.

As a newcomer to the company, this would be Tori’s first time attending, but from what she'd heard, it was a night of glamour, laughter, and celebration—a chance for the dancers to let loose and enjoy the fruits of their hard work before they headed back to their respective parts of the world for the holidays.

As a fresh face within the company, Tori was buzzing with excitement for her inaugural event. She had heard whispers about the night—a dazzling affair filled with glamour, laughter, and the vibrant energy of celebration. It was an opportunity for the dancers, who had invested so much passion and dedication, to let their hair down and revel in the rewards of their hard work before embarking on their journeys back to various corners of the globe for the holiday season.

Even though the company was based in the enchanting Spanish capital, its talented dancers hailed from across the world. For Tori, her roots were firmly planted in Atlanta, Georgia, a city known for its soul and hospitality.

This new chapter in her life promised not only the thrill of performance but also the chance to forge connections and make her mark.

From a young age, Tori had always dreamed of dancing around the world, each twirl and leap filled with the promise of adventure. When the opportunity finally arose to pursue those dreams in the vibrant city of Madrid nearly nine months ago, she embraced it with an open heart and mind.

After a long week of rehearsals and teaching her classes to the young dancers within the company, all Tori wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep the entire weekend away, but duty called.

With weary legs that ached from hours of practice, Victoria finally stepped out of the dance studio, her mind momentarily distracted from the task of arranging the contents of her bag that hung heavily from her shoulder. Just then, the sound of a playful swat rang out as Mia, one of the other dancers, landed a playful hit on her butt while darting past her.

"Have you picked out a dress for tonight?" Mia teased, a sly smirk curving her lips, her rich Spanish accent infusing a rhythm into her words as she matched Tori’s brisk pace.

“I’m still deciding,” Tori replied with a weary yet warm smile. She reached for the hair tie that had held her bun in a tight grip throughout the day, releasing it with a gentle tug. Her dark hair tumbled freely over her shoulders, cascading down her back in soft waves that caught the light as she moved.

“Whatever you decide, I know you will look absolutely stunning,” Mia declared with a beaming smile, planting a quick kiss on Tori’s cheek before darting away down a corridor lined with glass-panelled dance studios, the sounds of music and laughter spilling out into the hall.

As the chill of the evening air nipped at her skin, Victoria pulled up the zipper on her cozy puffer jacket, bracing herself for the brisk ten-minute walk back to her apartment.

Slipping her headphones in, she pressed play, allowing Sza’s smooth, soulful voice to wash over her, surrounding her as she began her journey home.

Tori loved that everything from her favourite shopping location to the studio was all within walking distance; the proximity meant that there was so much of the city she still had yet to explore.

As Tori stepped through the door of her sleek apartment, she let out a contented sigh, the familiar scent of home wrapping around her like a warm embrace. She quickly kicked off her Chanel sneakers, the soft thud echoing slightly in the quiet space. With a tug, she pulled off her coat, sliding it onto a nearby hook before making her way into the kitchen.

The cool, polished surfaces gleamed under the soft glow of the overhead lights as she opened the refrigerator door, the chill washing over her as reached for a bottle of water, the condensation forming small beads on the glass, and grabbed a bag of potato chips from the pantry.

With her small feast in hand, Tori moved to the living room, where the inviting couch beckoned her. The space was adorned with plush cushions and soft hues, perfect for unwinding. As she settled in, wrapping a soft, cozy blanket around herself, the weight of the day began to lift. She could feel her eyelids growing heavy, an irresistible tide of fatigue sweeping over her.

Determined to catch a few hours of rest before the excitement of the night unfolded, she grabbed her phone and hastily set an alarm. Snuggling deeper into the blanket, she closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift into slumber, the festivities that awaited her at the forefront of her mind.

A few hours later, Tori awoke to the soft chime of her alarm, the sound gently pulling her from the depths of slumber. She blinked against the soft glow of her apartment, momentarily disoriented but quickly reminded of the gala. A rush of adrenaline surged through her as she swung her legs over the side of the couch, her heart fluttering with anticipation.

After a quick shower, Tori stood in front of her closet, her heart fluttering as she pulled out her dress options for the evening. Both fabrics felt luxurious against her skin, but there was something about the black option that drew her to it.

Tori chose a stunning black dress that exuded elegance with its halter neckline and a daring deep V-cut that beautifully showcased her décolletage. The dress hugged her figure snugly, highlighting her graceful yet curvaceous silhouette, and cascaded down to the floor in a dramatic, flowing manner.

To complete her ensemble, Tori adorned herself with a selection of shimmering bracelets that caught the light with every movement and carried a chic small Saint Laurent handbag that added a touch of luxury. The overall effect was a remarkable blend of sophistication and allure.

Given the intricate design of her dress, Tori opted for a more understated approach with her hair, styling it simply to allow the dress to take centre stage. Her makeup was minimal and fresh, enhancing her natural features without overwhelming her look. She finished her outfit with a pair of Rene Caovilla heels, their intricate detailing elevating her appearance and adding a final touch of glamour.

Not only did Tori look good, but after napping for a few hours and taking her time to prepare for the evening ahead, she felt it too.

Tori slipped on her coat and grabbed her purse before booking a cab. She locked her apartment door and made her way down to the lobby.

Her heels clicked against the polished marble floor of the building as she stepped into the elevator. Tori felt a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling within her. The anticipation of the gala was palpable, and she couldn’t help but smile at the thought of celebrating with her fellow dancers.

As the elevator doors opened, she stepped out into the cool evening air, the city lights twinkling like stars against the darkening sky. Tori hailed a cab, her heart racing as she slid into the back seat. The driver nodded and pulled away from the curb, weaving through the bustling streets of Madrid.

The ride felt both quick and slow, each passing moment heightening her anticipation. Tori gazed out the window, watching the vibrant city pass by, the festive decorations illuminating the streets. She could already hear the distant sounds of music and laughter as they approached the venue.

When the cab finally came to a stop, Tori took a deep breath, her heart pounding with excitement. She stepped out and was immediately enveloped by the lively atmosphere. The venue was a grand building adorned with twinkling lights and elegant decorations, a perfect setting for the gala.

As she walked toward the entrance, Tori spotted familiar faces among the crowd. Dancers from the company mingled, their laughter ringing out like music. She felt a rush of warmth as she recognized Mia, who was chatting animatedly with a group of dancers.

“Tori!” Mia called out, her voice bright and welcoming. She rushed over, her own outfit sparkling under the lights. “You made it! You look absolutely stunning!”

“Thanks, Mia! You look incredible too!” Tori replied, her nerves easing as she embraced her friend.

“Come on, let’s get inside! The night is just beginning!” Mia exclaimed, grabbing Tori’s hand and leading her through the entrance.

Inside, the atmosphere was electric. The grand hall was filled with elegantly dressed guests, the air buzzing with excitement. A live band played soft music in the corner, and the scent of delicious food wafted through the air. Tori felt a thrill of joy as she took in the scene, her heart swelling with gratitude for being part of this vibrant community.

As they made their way through the crowd, Tori spotted Margaux, the choreographer, chatting with a few dancers. She felt a flutter of nerves at the thought of approaching her, but Mia encouraged her with a gentle nudge.

“Let’s go say hi!” Mia urged, and together they approached Margaux.

“Ladies!” Margaux greeted them with a warm smile. “You both look fabulous tonight! I’m so proud of the hard work you’ve put in this season.”

“Thank you, Margaux!” Tori replied, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her stomach. “It’s an honour to be part of this company.”

As the night unfolded, Tori found herself swept up in the festivities. She danced, laughed, and mingled with her fellow dancers, each moment filled with joy and camaraderie. The worries and fatigue from the week melted away, replaced by the exhilaration of celebration.

At one point, Tori stepped outside onto a balcony to catch her breath. The cool night air felt refreshing against her skin, and she leaned against the railing, taking in the stunning view of the city. The lights of Madrid twinkled like stars, and she felt a sense of peace wash over her.

“Enjoying the view?” a voice interrupted her thoughts. Tori turned to see a fellow dancer, Lucas, leaning against the railing beside her. He wore a charming smile, his eyes sparkling with playfulness.

“Madrid is a beautiful city,” Tori agreed, returning his smile as she glanced back at the dazzling skyline before them. “It’s hard to believe I’ve been here for almost nine months now. Sometimes it feels like a dream.”

Lucas chuckled softly, his eyes reflecting the warm glow of the city lights. “I know what you mean. This place can be both exhilarating and overwhelming. But tonight, we’re here to celebrate, right?”

“Absolutely!” Tori exclaimed, feeling her heart lift at the thought. She took a moment to appreciate the energy around them—attendees laughing and mingling, the music spilling out from the venue, and the festive decorations that adorned every corner.

“Have you had a drink yet?” Lucas asked, tilting his head slightly, his expression suggestive.

“Not yet,” Tori confirmed.

“Please go and change that, this is a night to celebrate all of our hard work,” ushering Tori inside, Lucas playfully pushed her in the direction of the bar before he was pulled into a conversation by another dancer leaving her alone in the pursuit of a drink.

As Tori made her way through the crowd, the rhythm of the music pulled her along, excitement bubbling in her stomach. She spotted the bar just across the expansive room, with a sleek surface shining under the warm golden lights. The buzz of laughter and chatter surrounded her, and she felt a tingle of anticipation for the night's festivities.

Navigating through the throngs of elegantly dressed guests, Tori finally reached the bar. She leaned against the polished counter, ready to place her order. The bartender approached, giving her a friendly smile as he raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement.

“What can I get you?” he asked, his voice smooth and inviting.

“Could I have a glass of Prosecco, please?” Tori replied, feeling her nerves vanish with the anticipation of the bubbles teasing her palate.

Just as the bartender poured her drink, someone bumped into her, the abruptness sending a jolt through her. Before she could react, she felt the cold splash of liquid hit her cleavage.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Jude rushed as he quickly grabbed a pile of napkins from the bar forcing them into Tori’s hands. He hadn't seen her as she stepped behind him, but he felt terrible as he watched the remains of his drink meander down her chest and drip from the saturated silk of her dress.

Tori's eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks flushing as the cool liquid seeped into the fabric against her skin. The bar's dim light danced off the shimmering material, accentuating every curve of her silhouette. She looked down at the mess, then back up at the man, who was fumbling with the napkins like a frantic child.

“It’s... it’s fine,” she managed, though her voice was softened with embarrassment. “I’ve got it.”

Jude ran a hand through his hair, his gaze flicking nervously to her chest, the way the silk clung to it before she turned on her heels and rushed in the direction of the restrooms.

Cautiously following behind her, Jude watched as she stepped out to the party into the hall, her heels echoing against the floor as she sauntered into the ladies' room.

Waiting outside for her to return, Jude pushed his hands into his pockets as leaned against the wall, using the moment alone to decompress from all of the conversations he’d been pulled into since arriving at the event.

If Jude were to be completely honest, he would confess that he knew little to nothing about ballet. His identity was firmly rooted in the world of football, a sport that filled his heart with passion and purpose.

Tonight, however, he found himself in unfamiliar territory, dragged along by his team's public relations staff. As a key player in Real Madrid’s starting eleven, he understood that public engagements were an essential aspect of his role, just as crucial as the rigorous conditioning he undertook to keep his body at peak performance.

He'd been asked to attend in support of a cause he knew very little about, but in the moment all he cared about was writing a wrong and ensuring he hadn't ruined someone's night and dress.

When the woman returned her dress looked as good as new, albeit the napkins she still used to dab at the material.

Tori emerged from the restroom, her cheeks still flushed but her expression more composed. She had managed to clean up the worst of the spill, and the silk of her dress now glimmered under the dim lights, though the remnants of Jude's drink still clung to the edges of her neckline. She caught sight of Jude leaning against the wall, his posture relaxed but his eyes betraying a hint of concern.

“See? All better,” she said, attempting to lighten the mood as she dabbed at the last few spots with the napkin. “I think I’ll survive.”

Jude let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a sheepish smile breaking across his face. “I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t mean to—”

“Spill your drink all over me?” Tori interjected with a pout. “It’s okay. I’ve had worse things happen at parties.”

“Still, I feel terrible,” he replied, running a hand through his tousled hair again. “I should’ve been more careful.”

Tori waved her hand dismissively, her confidence still dwindling but slowly returning as she stood in the presence of the handsome stranger. “Honestly, it’s fine. I managed to get most of it cleaned. Besides, I doubt anyone will notice.” She glanced around the bustling venue, her eyes bright and glistening.

Jude raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “I’ll still know, at least let me have it cleaned professionally.”

“Thanks,” Tori said, her heart warming at his chivalry. “But honestly, it's fine…. I didn't catch your name.”

Tori studied the man's face, an unsettling sense of familiarity coming over her. His features were striking yet elusive; she could see the chiselled lines of his jaw and the way his dark tapered curls seemed uniform and perfectly in place. Despite her mind dancing through the roster of dancers she knew—none of whom matched him—something about him tugged at her memory. There was an intensity in his piercing gaze that hinted he belonged somewhere significant, but where that was remained just out of reach in her mind.

“Jude,” he said with a warm smile, extending his hand toward her. “And you are?”

“Tori,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I'm a dancer here, have we met before? You look familiar but I can't place it.”

“No, I think I’d remember meeting you Tori,” Jude replied. “But as for me being familiar, maybe that's why,” he smirked as he pointed behind Tori to a banner that hung across the ceiling and there he was, accompanied by three other men all dressed in the same white and gold jerseys.

“You’re a soccer player?” Victoria asked curiously, her lack of knowledge surrounding who he was only adding to Jude's amusement.

“You could say that, although where I’m from we prefer the term “football”.” he explained.

Tori laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Right, of course! I should have guessed. I’m not really into sports, but I’ve heard soc—football is huge out here. You guys are kind of a big deal, aren’t you?”

Jude chuckled, a hint of modesty in his demeanor. “We try our best. It’s a team effort, really. But tonight, I’m just here to support a good cause and, apparently, to make a mess of things.”

“Hey, it could have happened to anyone,” Tori reassured him, her smile warm. “And at least you weren’t a dickhead about it.”

Jude laughed, the tension easing between them. “I appreciate that. I’ll take ‘not a dickhead’ as a win for the night.”

Tori grinned, feeling more at ease. “So, what brings you to a ballet gala? I assume it’s not your usual scene?”

“Honestly? I was dragged here by my team, if I’m not mistaken we worked with the company this year.” he admitted, a hint of sheepishness in his tone. “Optics I guess.”

“Well, you’re doing a great job so far,” Tori said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’ve already made quite the impression.”

“Let’s hope it’s a good one,” Jude replied, his gaze steady on her. “And what about you? How did you end up in Madrid dancing with this company?”

Tori took a moment to gather her thoughts, her heart swelling with pride as she spoke. “I’ve always dreamed of dancing professionally somewhere other than where I’m from, and when the opportunity came to join this company, I jumped at it. It’s been a whirlwind experience, but I love every minute of it. The culture, the people, the passion—it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“That’s inspiring,” Jude said, genuinely impressed. Despite their different career paths, it was evident their stories held similarities. “I can’t imagine the dedication it takes to pursue something like that.”

“It’s definitely not easy,” Tori admitted, her expression turning contemplative. “But then again I can’t imagine being an athlete is a walk in the park.”

“It isn’t, but I love football,” Jude admitted.

“The things we do for love, right?” Tori laughed making Jude do the same.

The shared laughter felt like a soft thread stitching them closer together, and Tori felt a delightful thrill buzzing through her. Just as she was gathering the courage to delve deeper into their conversation, Mia appeared at her side, radiant and full of energy.

“There you are!” Mia exclaimed, her annoyance cloaked in the brightness of her smile. “I was looking for you everywhere! We need to dance, Tori! Now!”

Before Tori could respond, Mia whisked her away, dragging her back into the heart of the event where the music pulsed like a living entity. Tori turned her head back toward Jude, and for a split second, their eyes locked, each feeling a spark of interest. But Mia's infectious energy swept her away entirely.

“Tori,” Jude murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he observed the scene unfolding before him. A girl with a radiant smile and a bubbly personality gently pulled Tori away, her laughter ringing out like a joyful melody. Jude’s gaze lingered on Tori, captivated by the way her eyes sparkled with delight and the warmth of her smile that illuminated the space around her. The energy she radiated was magnetic, filling the air with a sense of carefree joy that made him long to understand the source of her exuberance. He couldn’t help but feel drawn to her, his curiosity deepening as he watched.

“You know her?” Kylian smirked knowingly as he checked the time on his wristwatch, his eyes following in the same direction as his teammate.

Whoever she was, she was beautiful and definitely his type. However, Kylian could tell from the interaction he observed across the room that Jude had already taken a liking to her. As competitive as he was, he wasn’t the kind of guy to step on anyone’s toes.

“No, she’s a dancer here,” Jude replied, his voice still low, as if he were afraid to break the spell that Tori seemed to cast over him.

Kylian raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “Are you going to get to know her? She's beautiful.”

Jude nodded, his eyes still fixed on Tori as she spun around, her laughter ringing out like music as she playfully danced with the same girl that had stolen her earlier. “Yeah, she is,” he said, a hint of admiration creeping into his voice.

Kylian chuckled, nudging Jude teasingly. “You should go and talk to her.”

But instead of moving forward, Jude remained rooted in place, watching Tori through the crowds of people enjoying the night. He felt an inexplicable pull to her, a desire to know more about the passionate spirit behind her smiles and laughter. She danced freely, her movements fluid and alive, each twirl a reflection of her commitment to her craft. It excited him, to see someone so deeply engaged in what they loved.

The evening continued to unfold around them—there were mingling groups, clinking glasses, and the low thrum of music guiding each heartbeat within the grand venue. Jude’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, each pulling him in a different direction. But he found comfort in simply observing her from a distance, letting her joyous energy wash over him.

However, as the night drew on and the crowd began to thin, he noticed Tori’s demeanor shift slightly. She began scanning the surroundings, an almost hesitant look crossing her face. The sparkle in her eyes dimmed just a fraction as she glanced down at her phone, then around to the curb outside where cabs occasionally pulled up, but there didn't seem to be one in sight.

Jude's instinct kicked in. This beautiful dancer, so full of life just moments ago, now appeared a bit lost and alone. He began to weigh his options despite his earlier hesitation. He could easily approach her, but would that be appropriate now? There was still a certain barrier that held him back. But as he watched her, thoughts of lost opportunities and possible regret flashed through his mind—a thought he couldn’t dismiss.

It was easy to walk away, to let her drift into the night when she seemed perfectly content within her circle of friends. But this chance felt too potent to let go.

Not wasting another moment, Jude pushed off the bar, his heart racing with a heady mix of determination. He made his way through the retreating crowd until he reached the door and stepped outside. There, he spotted Tori standing under a streetlight, her figure highlighted against the backdrop of the bustling street.

“Tori!” Jude called out, the cold night air surrounding his words with a warmth of intent.

She turned, her expression brightening as she saw him. “Jude! Hi!” Her smile was genuine and tugged at something deep within him. “What’s up?”

“I was just about to reach out and see if you needed a ride home,” he offered, nodding toward the street where a few cabs were beginning to crawl past picking up the other attendees of the nights events. “You’ve been patiently waiting for one, haven’t you?.”

Tori’s expression of surprise quickly morphed into a look of consideration. “That’s really sweet of you, but I don’t want to impose. It’s so nice of you to offer.”

“It's no imposition, I promise. Besides, I'd hate for you to wait out here alone for too long, especially if it gets any colder.” He offered her a reassuring smile, hoping it conveyed that she could trust him. They had shared a light connection earlier, and he wanted to explore the possibility of fostering it further.

She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip as she considered his words. Finally, she relented, her shoulders relaxing. “Alright, if you’re sure. That would be amazing.”

They made their way to the curb, where Jude quickly called for his chauffeur, who pulled up in a sleek black car moments later. As they approached, Tori’s eyes widened a little, intrigued by the luxury of the vehicle.

“You really are a big deal, aren’t you?” she teased playfully, her smile blooming once more.

Jude chuckled, shaking his head. “Not really. A guy with a good job. Besides, I guess you could say I’m just making sure I return the favor after ruining your night.”

“Fair point,” Tori replied with a laugh.

He opened the door, and Tori slid into the seat, tucking her dress carefully as she did. Jude followed suit, closing the door behind him and settling in. The interior was plush and inviting, the soft ambient lights casting a warm glow as the driver began to pull away from the venue.

“Wow, this is really nice. Very different from any other transport I’ve taken tonight,” she admitted, looking around with amused curiosity.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jude said with a wink. “So, what’s it like being part of a ballet company? You must have stories.”

Tori leaned back, her enthusiasm ignited by the conversation. “Honestly, it’s incredible! The dedication, the relationships—there's always something new to learn. Each performance isa fruition of not only my work but also the efforts of everyone around me. The energy we share on stage is something magical.”

As she spoke, Jude watched her, captivated by the way her eyes lit up. With each word, he felt himself drawn in further, wanting to know not just about her life as a dancer but who she truly was beyond the stage.

“What about you?” Tori countered, her gaze shifting to him. “Life as a professional athlete must be exciting. Do you enjoy it?”

“I do,” Jude replied, allowing himself to relax as he shrugged off the more serious demeanor he tended to adopt at public events. “It’s a mix of pressure and joy. I love thrill of competition, the adrenaline—it’s intoxicating. But it’s not all glamour; the hard work is relentless and sometimes lonely. I admire you for your dedication; it’s admirable to create something so beautiful with your body.”

Tori smiled, a hint of shyness coloring her cheeks. “Thank you, that means a lot. It’s getting to that beauty and artistry that can be exhausting. You really have to push yourself beyond the limits sometimes.”

Jude nodded, intrigued. “What made youchoose dancing?”

After a brief moment of contemplation, Tori replied, “I don't think I've ever loved anything more.”

Jude and Tori spoke the entire journey to her apartment, the conversation flowing effortlessly between them. They shared stories about their childhoods, their families, and the paths that led them to their respective careers. Tori spoke of her early days in Atlanta, where she first discovered her love for dance, and how she had always dreamed of performing on grand stages. Jude shared anecdotes from his youth, the thrill of kicking a ball around with friends, and the moment he realized he wanted to pursue football professionally.

As they approached Tori's apartment building, the conversation shifted to their aspirations. Tori expressed her desire to choreograph her own pieces one day, to create something that resonated with others on a deeper level. Jude, in turn, spoke of his hopes to leave a legacy in football, to be remembered not just for his skills on the pitch but for his contributions off it as well.

When they arrived, Jude stepped out first and opened the door for Tori, who smiled at the gesture. “Thank you for the ride, Jude. I really enjoyed our conversation.”

“Me too,” he replied, his gaze lingering on her. “I’m glad I ran into you tonight. It was a pleasant surprise.”

Tori felt a flutter in her chest at his words. “Likewise,” she said, her tone softening. The warmth radiating from their shared moment felt electric, and she wanted to hold onto it a little longer.

As they stood there in front of her apartment, the night air wrapped around them, a slight chill blending with the heat of their conversation. Tori toyed nervously with the straps of her handbag, the silent anticipation fostering a palpable tension between them.

“What’s next for you?” Jude asked, leaning casually against the wall beside her, his eyes searching hers.

“I’ll probably just crash. It’s been a long day,” Tori sighed, already feeling the weight of her body knowing it would soon be seeking rest. "But I’m excited for rehearsal tomorrow. We’ve got a big performance coming up in the spring that we’ve already started rehearsals for.”

“Is that so?” Jude tilted his head, a smirk forming on his lips. “What’s the performance about?”

“It's a classic piece, really. A mix of dramatic storytelling set to beautiful music. The choreography is breathtaking," she shared, her passion radiating ever so present. “You should come and see it sometime, if you’re interested. I can get you tickets.”

Jude's heart raced at the thought, the prospect of witnessing her dance igniting a flicker of excitement within him. “I’d love that,” he said earnestly. “Just let me know when.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the surrounding city seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in the spotlight of their conversation. Tori felt a flutter in her stomach – a blend of nerves and intrigue that coursed through her. She took a small step closer, feeling emboldened by the connection they had fostered.

Jude’s expression softened, the magnetic pull between them crackling through the air. “Well, since I’m clearly no good at keeping my drinks to myself, maybe I should stay away.” His teasing brought a light laugh from Tori, easing the air between them.

“I’ll just have to be careful around you, then,” she said playfully.

Jude chuckled, the sound low and rich as he took a step closer and looked down into her expressive eyes.

In that moment, the tension shifted, and without thinking, Jude gently cupped Tori’s face, hesitating slightly as he read her expression. It was infused with a blend of surprise and something that looked like desire. The space between them felt charged, as though the universe had drawn them together for this very moment.

“Can I?” he mouthed softly, his voice barely a whisper, seeking her permission.

Tori nodded, her heart racing, the remnants of their conversation swirling around them like a beautiful dance.

Jude leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against hers in the softest of kisses, a tentative exploration that sent shivers down her spine. Her breath hitched in her throat as she leaned into him, deepening the kiss, feeling the warmth of his body meld against hers.

Jude felt a rush of warmth wash over him as Tori’s soft hand settled gently on the back of his neck. It was as if a current of electricity had surged through him, igniting every nerve ending. His hands instinctively found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as their lips met in a tender kiss.

As Tori pulled away, she felt her cheeks warm with a deep blush that betrayed her flustered emotions. Jude, undeterred, leaned in and pressed another soft kiss against her lips, his touch lingering just a moment longer. When he finally stood upright, he seemed to tower over her, his height making her feel both small and protected all at once. The intensity of his gaze mixed with the sweetness of the moment left her breathless.

“Thank you for getting me home,” Tori smiled sweetly up at Jude, her fingers brushing against his blazer-covered bicep.

“Thank you for allowing me to,” he replied, his voice low and sincere. “I wasn’t sure how tonight would go, but I’m really happy I met you.”

Tori’s heart fluttered at his words, and she felt a warmth spread through her chest. “Me too. I didn’t expect to have such an incredible time, especially at my first gala. You made it special.”

Jude chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think we could make dinner sometime special too.”

Tori laughed a melodic sound that made Jude’s heart race. “I don't doubt it, but aren't you a super in-demand soccer player?”

“It’s football,” Jude corrected in amusement. “Which is exactly why a dinner together is necessary, I need to work that word out of your vocabulary.”

“My bad, football,” Victoria smiled playfully, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “But seriously, I’d like to have dinner with you. Just let me know when you’re free.”

“Perfect,” Jude said, his heart fluttering at her enthusiasm. “Are you free this weekend?”

“Is tomorrow good for you?” Tori asked feeling rather shy under Jude’s intense gaze and hating how enthusiastic she sounded. She could hardly believe how quickly the evening had unfolded, and the prospect of spending more time with him sent butterflies dancing in her stomach.

“Tomorrow sounds perfect,” Jude replied, a grin spreading across his face. “How about I pick you up at seven?”

“Seven it is,” Tori confirmed, her heart racing at the thought of their upcoming dinner. “I’ll be ready.”

As they stood there, the cold night air wrapped around them like a soft blanket, Tori felt a sense of comfort and excitement. She had never imagined that attending her dance companies end of year gala could lead to such a connection with someone like Jude.

“Can I have a number to call you on, or do you want me to stand out here and shout your name?” Jude teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

Tori laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I guess a number would be more effective,” she replied, pulling out her phone. She quickly pulled up her contact information and handed it to him. “There you go. Just promise you won’t forget to text me.”

“I promise,” Jude said, his voice earnest as he took her phone and saved her number. He handed it back with a smile that made her heart skip a beat. “I’m determined to get that S word out of your system.”

Tori grinned at his confidence, her heart racing at the thought of spending time with him in a intimate setting. Jude was captivating, with a charm that was both effortless and magnetic. She found herself wanting to learn more about him—the man behind the athlete.

“You make it sound like a challenge,” she said, playfully arching an eyebrow at him.

“Trust me, I thrive on challenges,” he replied, leaning closer as if to let her in on a secret. “Especially when they involve beautiful women.”

The way he spoke sent a shiver down her spine, igniting a warmth deep within her. She felt her heart race at the connection they shared, a thrill that was both exhilarating and terrifying. “Well, I’m sure I can hold my own when it comes to challenges,” Tori shot back, her voice teasing despite the butterflies flitting about in her stomach.

Jude's lips twitched into a smile, and he took a step closer, their bodies almost touching now. “I have no doubt about that. I can tell you’re a woman who knows what she wants.” He paused, his eyes locking onto hers with a burning intensity.

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