Not a chance, buddy, I thought. I might be older than him, but I can keep up for one night.
I gave him a glare and stepped between his line of vision and Rusty, my heart pounding. Would Rusty mind me laying this kind of claim on him, even though I couldn’t offer him the smooth confidence or experience of any other guy here?
No need to worry. Rusty didn’t seem to notice the other guy, or my move to block him. He was just grinning to himself, twirling on the spot and dipping without a care in the world.
I knew he wasn’t carefully choreographed anymore. He was dancing spontaneously, every ounce of that happy, bubbly man showing in the way he moved. His very soul was on show, and when he looked at me, I knew it was a show for me alone.
I couldn’t look away. Holy crap, I was hooked on Rusty Best.
Chapter Six
Long, hard, and other adjectives.
Rusty, day 2
My morning routine began as soon as I opened my eyes. If I waited any longer, I’d sleep in, and then my day became chaos.
So without letting myself think twice, I kicked the sheets to the bottom of the bed. I rolled onto my front, then rocked back into child’s pose, stretching my arms and shoulders out.
“Oooh,” I breathed, happy to shed the stiff torpor of sleep from my body.
After a minute, I stood up and slowly rolled my back down until I touched my toes, and then shifted into downward dog. I was always smiling by now, the gentle stretches opening up my body and my mind at once.
But today, I grinned at the floor as I stretched one leg at a time.
Gotta stay limber, in case I can tempt Tom to come home with me next time. I giggled, shaking out my limbs before doing lunges.
Last night had been wonderful. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had so much fun at a gay bar. We’d barely even had anything to drink, but we’d still been giggly and bubbly. Even shy Tom had come out of his shell and danced for real—after enough kisses from me.
And boy, had we ever made out. I grinned and shifted from foot to foot as I straightened up again, biting my lip. Thinking about Tom made staying soft very hard.
He’s so cute. I fanned my face as I thought about him. Here I was, getting just as lightheaded at the memory of last night when Tom wasn’t even in the room! I stretched one arm at a time in front of my chest. I don’t think he even knows how cute he is. That’s the cutest thing.
And he was handsome, even if he tried to hide it. He was a little bit nerdy—it came out in the way he tried to dress hip. And I loved the confidence I sometimes teased out of him. He was going to make someone the best husband ever.
Again.
I couldn’t help but feel a little bit jealous that Chrissy had gotten to spend so many years with him. I knew neither of them regretted it, but God, I wished I could have met him…
When, exactly? I asked myself. When I was eighteen and pouring everything into my dance training, ignoring men completely? When I was twenty-one and sleeping my way around the gay bars?
No, this was the perfect time. I couldn’t explain why, I just knew this was the right moment. Like a far-away galaxy had just slid into the right spot, or the moon was in exactly the right phase for the gravitational pull of Tom and me.
I grinned to myself as I headed for the shower. Tom and I were taking things slow and romantic, and nobody had to know if I had a few dirtier thoughts I was putting on hold for now.
Nobody except the walls of my shower.
There was no point in pretending I could resist. I throbbed to my very core as soon as the stream of water hit the hard cock that pressed against my stomach.
So I braced myself with one hand, let myself remember the heat of Tom’s body against mine and the scent of him filling my nose as we ground together on a dimly-lit dance floor. And I jerked off hard and fast.
I wanted Tom.
His deep, warm, reassuring voice whispering in my ear. His hands on me, skilled and precise. His lips on my ear. Best of all, his hard cock pressing against the wet, firm curve of my ass.
My thighs trembled, and I squeezed my eyes shut, letting the image sweep me away.
For a glorious minute, I was there, leaning back against Tom as he steadied my body and lifted my heart.
And then I came, crying out wordlessly as I gulped for air and scratched the tiles of my shower wall.
Almost instantly, my heart ached as I came down. Not because I felt guilty or bad about my fantasy—not at all. But I wanted him so bad that his absence hurt.
I leaned over, pressing the top of my head and both of my hands against the shower wall. My gut was heavy. The stream of hot water over my skin was no match for the pressure of a man’s body against mine. I craved his arms around me, strong and yet gentle.
I’m going to get him, I promised myself. One way or another, as the song goes.
That made me smile—gave me hope.
I wiped the back of my hand over my eyes and straightened up, then grabbed the shower head to rinse down the wall and my body. After a quick scrub and shampoo, I was ready to start the day.
My brothers might be crazy busy and losing their minds with the Walker family wedding this week, but most of my work was done. My role was the most unique and unusual for a wedding service. Not every client took up my part of our offerings.
So it was just like any other Monday—planning classes in the morning, meeting a prospective music video client for lunch, and then classes. Since it was July, school was out and my classes began earlier.
I grabbed coffee and started up my Bluetooth speakers with the song I was choreographing for the kids later, but then I was interrupted by an incoming text message.
It was Tom.
I beamed to myself. I hadn’t wanted to be overeager by texting him yet, but it seemed like Tom wasn’t worried about that.
TOM: Good morning, handsome! I had fun last night. Can’t wait for our next date. Enjoy my view this morning.
Oh, boy, I hoped I hadn’t blown my load too soon. I hastily opened the attachment, but it left me puzzled.
No nudes. In fact, I wasn’t quite sure what he’d sent until I turned my phone screen sideways.
It looked like a shot out of an office window, with blue sky above and a planter outside. The flowers in the planter were out of focus.
I covered my mouth as I laughed. Before I could thank him for the photo, he sent another message.
TOM: Oops. It’s hard to see them. Is this photo better?
That picture was at a terrible angle and the colors were wrong, but at least the flowers were in focus.
Oh, man. I was never relying on him to maintain my Instagram aesthetic. At least I had a selfie stick and a tripod for that.
RUSTY: Good morning sexy ;) I like your impressionist technique.
TOM: Haha! Sorry. I’m bad at taking photos. But the red flowers made me think of your hair. Not as pretty, though.
I grinned to myself and rolled onto my back on the couch, holding my phone against my chest like a little hug. I wanted to squeal with excitement at the casual conversation.
RUSTY: You charmer ;) I’ll forgive the bad photos if you keep complimenting me.
TOM: Most IT guys are good at one thing and terrible at the rest. You have to choose your flavor of nerd.
RUSTY: And what flavor are you, since I haven’t gotten to find out yet? ;)
There was a slight hesitation before Tom answered.