it just wanted to heal.
The days and nights swirled into a fugue of sweating and swaying and tapping and sliding. She was naturally uncoordinated, stiff through the hips, and not always receptive to Danni’s criticism.
But she was making progress. Huge progress.
Watching herself in the mirror, she focused on transforming her feelings into movements. Music had the power to connect the soul with the senses, and for the past five days, Danni had been teaching her how to achieve that.
“Let your body loose. Like this.” Danni gripped her hips from behind, moving her, demonstrating for the thousandth time how to catch the rhythm. “A stiff frame can’t move. Surrender your joints, your muscles, your breaths. Allow the music to control your movements all the way to the floor. See?”
Despite Danni’s pregnancy, she had no trouble sweating it out on the dance floor for twelve hours every day. Lydia studied Danni’s reflection in the mirror, mimicking the descending, rippling silhouette of Danni’s cute body as they undulated together, down, down, down to the ground and back up.
Techno music thumped from the speakers. Just one of the many dance genres she’d learned how to groove to. Different nightclubs offered different kinds of music, and she needed to adapt to each style as the music changed.
And so it went. Hour after hour, day after day, Lydia practiced no less than fifty dance moves and transition techniques.
At her request, Cole stayed away during the lessons. He was too distracting, his gaze too invasive and penetrating. She couldn’t work with him stalking the perimeter of the room, consuming her senses, demanding her attention.
But they always reconnected at night amid tangled sheets. With each possessive thrust, it was no longer enough just to hear him roaring her name as they finished together.
She wanted more.
Lovers had come and gone throughout her life. She remembered none of them, never pursued anything more than a five-second fling.
Cole wasn’t a lover. He was an unprecedented, decadent experience. His perseverance, dedication, and loyalty was unlike any man she’d ever been with. And let’s be honest. There was no one as insanely, unreasonably gorgeous as Cole Hartman.
Whether they were sharing conversation, food, or body fluids, she didn’t want it to end. She often caught herself thinking about her life after this mission, and she always circled back to one undeniable truth. She wanted a future with Cole.
Mike would’ve wanted that for her. On Christmas Eve, he let Cole into their home, into their life, because he knew.
Cole belonged to her. He was the one. If she didn’t believe Cole’s words, she only had to look into his unyielding brown eyes. She would have to cut off his legs if she ever tried to run from him. Until his last breath, he would chase her to the ends of the earth.
He wouldn’t need to, for he already caught her, heart and soul.
“Wow. Look at you.” Danni danced around her, smiling and snapping her fingers to the music. “You got your groove, girl. Damn, you’re on fire!”
She observed her form in the mirror, letting the repetitive electronic beat lift and drop her hips as she slid through the box step.
With each booty shake, she felt less restrained. More confident. With the subtle kicks of her pelvis, her movements glided like oil, more relaxed, freer, sexier. If her feet still ached in the heels, she didn’t notice. She only felt the tune, the percussion, and the music.
She was so lost in the zone she didn’t notice Danni had drifted away until the song ended.
“You’re almost ready.” Danni leaned a shoulder against the wall of windows, her attention fixed on something outside.
“What’s left? I swear I’ve learned every dance move in existence.”
“You’ve mastered all the techniques and steps you’ll need.” Danni touched her throat, her cheeks flushing as her gaze remained glued on the window. “What’s left is the fun part. I’ll teach you how to flirt and…fuck.”
“Sorry?” She wiped the perspiration from her forehead and treaded toward the window. “Are you blushing? What are you looking at out…? Oh, shit.”
Outside, dormant grass stretched from the rear terrace to the surrounding tree line. At the center of the lawn, Cole and Trace rolled across the ground, grappling, sparring, shirtless and sweaty. So goddamn sexy.
Her mouth watered. Her skin caught fire. Her stupid knees went weak.
“Oh, shit,” she repeated, entranced by the display of muscle and ferocious power.
They weren’t alone. Cole’s friends stood on the sidelines, bent forward, shouting, laughing, and cheering on the sparring match. Tiago, Matias,