Page 89 of C*cky Best Friend
Chapter Forty-One
Samantha
Logan walks into our dance studio, his legs graceful, body sculpted to perfection from being a professional with a grueling schedule for so long.
There are eleven girls between the ages of three and five, in staggered formation wiggling and bouncing to a pop song that will stay in their heads for the next twenty-four hours at least, the hook is that catchy.
I wave to Logan as I instruct them to, “Tap your right toe. Now the heel. Tap your left toe. Now that heel. One more time for each. Jump to your right. Swirl your hips like this. Clap your neighbor’s hand. And throw your arms up high.” The girls are so cute as the dimpled elbows straighten and reach as far as they can go, which isn’t very. Only one has the natural ability to make hers straight. All the others are wonky. But they’re having fun, which is all that matters. “Now freestyle! Run around!”
They go nuts, taking up the whole space, squealing as they zoom past our visitor, then me.
I turn off the stereo. “It’s 2:30 girls. I’ll see you next Tuesday.”
Their mothers have begun to file in, some of them from our reading room where they were engaged in friendly conversations with others from the community we’ve created.
Curious glances are thrown to Logan as he crosses to me, because he has become incredibly handsome since I saw him last. His hair is past his shoulders, sandy brown with blonde streaks. It feels like he’s grown taller, but I think it’s just the muscles giving the powerful impression. His fashion sense has improved. I would feel a little boring next to him, if he weren’t looking at me like that.
Those women can stare.
All he sees is me.
“All this yours?”
“Mine and Lexi’s.”
He makes a circle and nods approval. “How is it being in business with your sister?” Leaning in for a kiss, he evaporates my answer.
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
Logan laughs, kisses the tip of my nose and glances back as a couple of the moms say goodbye. I wave to them.
One, a busybody named Helena, eyes me with a silent warning that she’ll be grilling me later. Normally she drives me a little batty, my sister, too, but today I’m floating on a cloud named second chances.
As the small studio grows quiet, I excitedly slip my arms around Logan’s neck and receive another kiss. “I can’t believe you’re here.” Our mouths mold and move with sensual exploration. His taut chest against me feels so warm and strong. These arms had hugged me before, but not like this. I can feel heat from the bulge in his pants. It makes me nervous, excited, and a little scared. Pulling away to search his eyes, my voice is breathy as I ask, “What hotel are you staying at?”
His blue eyes get smoky as he scans my face like he has all the time in the world to answer, “The W.” He gives me a soft kiss before asking, “You want to have dinner with me tonight? It’s a special occasion.”
I smile, “Oh yeah?”
“We’re talking on a Tuesday. So that makes Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, all in a row. Just like old times.” He smiles, so handsome that my heart skips. His erection is throbbing against my hip, my body responding with need. If we didn’t have a storefront made of glass, I might just suggest we leave ‘friends’ behind us for good, right here, right now. From the look in his eyes he’d say yes.
I smile, “I’ll meet you there,” before our lips brush again, sending a fresh burst of heat between my legs.
“Tell your parents you’re coming over to my place for a sleepover.”
I burst out laughing, “Oh no! I’m staying in my old room! This is like we’re teenagers or something!”
“Too weird,” Logan chuckles before growing serious as his hands travel down my back to rest above my tailbone. He presses his fingers into the fabric barring his way. “I was going to suggest we spend the day together, but my jet lag needs a rest so I can really be with you.”
“You’re going back to the hotel to sleep?”
He nods and kisses me, the kiss growing deeper quickly. He breaks free to stare at me like he can’t believe it’s us here, together. “You still sharing a car with Lex?”
“I got the Subaru in the divorce.”
He laughs, takes my hand, our fingers lacing together as we walk to my bag, turn off the lights, and lock the door.
Sunlight shines on us as we stroll toward the car he knows well. “How many classes a week do you guys teach?”