Page 61 of The Thought of You

His chuckle floats between us, effortlessly consuming the small space—and me.

“So, Iris and I came to an arrangement. She insisted she didn’t feel right letting me volunteer, so I suggested she let me use the studio after hours for myself. Win-win.”

“You dance a lot here alone, then?”

I nod and swivel my attention around the room, admiring the potted plants in the corner. They’re flourishing, with the help from Iris’s niece. The older woman and I agreed neither one of us could take care of a plant.

The rest of the floor plan is occupied by nothing but echoes of dancers past. The imprints of their leaps, plies, and pirouettes can’t be seen, but they exist in here like the giggles and cheers from a job well done.

This warm space has become almost as familiar to me as my own home.

“You looked… serene when you were dancing.” He says it so softly I almost don’t hear him. “I’ve never seen you look so free, and I’m sorry.”

A ball of emotions lodges itself in my throat. “Why are you sorry?”

“For interrupting.”

chapter

nineteen

OWEN

“Please continue.” I lunge toward a table at the back of the room and bypass the nightmare of red fabrics and blinding sequins stacked on top of it. I opt for the chair and find Addie gaping back at me.

“I’m not going to dance for you,” she asserts, outrage coloring the tops of her ears the same crimson red as the material next to me.

“Pretend I’m not here.”

“That’s impossible.” She shakes her head, then pauses with amusement flooding her eyes. “Unless…”

I sit up straight, on the edge of my fucking seat as I wait for the rest of her sentence.

“I will dance?—”

I clap in victory.

“—if you dance with me.”

My lips instantly tumble into a frown.

She sashays over, her hips melodically sweeping from side to side much like they did during her dance. And her hips aren’t lying right now—she wants me to dance, if not more.

Dear God, please tell me I’m not imagining the devilish flicker in her eyes.

“Fine.” I hop onto what I consider clown feet, especially compared to her graceful ones. “Let’s go, angel.”

I sense a blink of hesitation, but she shakes it off and steels herself. “Let’s,” she chirps and grabs her phone, using her pointer finger to scroll on her screen until music plays from a speaker.

“Is this Britney?” I venture as the beginning techno-like sounds of a synthesizer drown out my question.

Addie slings her arm through mine to lead me to the center of the room, and she immediately dips her body in front of mine, practically rubbing her ass on my junk.

I’ve never fainted, but my current lightheadedness comes fucking close.

With her confidence triple her usual level like she’s cranked up a dial, she steps around me, circling me with slow, intentional steps.

Her heels hit the floor, and she bounces off her toes as she trails a finger across my chest and around my back.

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