Page 78 of Reclaim Me

“Tell me.”

“En Pointe,” I emphasize the words with a dramatic flourish of my hand that makes Hunter smile. “It’s perfect, right? Because it encapsulates the beauty and rigor of ballet all at once.”

Pointe work has always been synonymous with ballet. It’s not always the most challenging part of being a ballerina, but it is the most well-known. I want the dancers I produce to be that closely intertwined with their chosen craft, their names and faces as easily associated with ballet as the term that inspired the name of the studio they trained at.

He nods his agreement. “I love it. Now, you need a logo.”

“Already done.”

“Well, you’ll also need some branded merchandise. I have a guy who does my stuff for the gym; I could see if he could get you some stuff before your opening. When is it again?”

I bite my lip, excited about being asked questions about the project I’ve been dedicating every waking hour to lately. “The opening is going to be at the end of this month.”

His eyes go wide. “Rae, that’s fast.”

“I know, but I know I can pull it off. Jayla and the other moms from The Ballet Academy have already signed their girls up, and we’ve been working on a short, choreographed piece for the opening so we can do a little showcase.”

Once again, I’m sharing something with him I’ve been keeping to myself. And once again, he doesn’t disappoint. “That sounds adorable.”

“It’s so cute,” I gush, pulling out my phone to show him the video I took yesterday evening when we were practicing. Hunter leans in close, watching with rapt attention.

“They look so serious,” he says, shaking his head. “Little ballerina robots.”

I laugh. “Don’t call them robots.”

He turns serious all of a sudden, pulling back to put some distance between us. “I’m proud of you,” he murmurs, the words hitting me right in the chest. “You’re really going for it, and you’re not compromising your dreams for anyone, not even Aaron.”

I pull back, too, putting both of my feet back on the ground in hopes that it will stop me from feeling like I’m floating on a cloud. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about Aaron,” I say, taking a sip of my wine.

“I don’t,” Hunter scoffs. “Fuck Aaron.”

His candidness makes me choke, sending droplets of red wine flying out of my mouth and onto my thighs. Hunter pushes to his feet and rushes inside, grabbing a dish towel and returning in a second flat. He drops down to his haunches in front of me, using gentle strokes to dry the liquid up but still managing to graze my thighs with his fingertips.

“You really don’t like him, huh?” I suck in a breath.

Hunter taps my right knee, ignoring my question. I allow him to nudge them open. His eyes stayed glued to my face as his fingers guide the towel up, stopping mere inches from my clenched sex. He knows what he’s doing. The way he licks his lips tells me as much, and I still don’t move a muscle to stop him. In fact, I do the exact opposite, parting my legs further in a silent challenge for him to continue, for him to act on the heat gathering in his eyes.

For one blissful second, it feels like he will. His fingers dance up the inside of my thighs, the towel long forgotten, and I slide down in my chair to grant him even more access. But just as he’s about to reach the hem of my very short nightie, he stops and stands, backing away from me with regret etched into his features.

“Goodnight, Sunshine.”

The next morning I wake up in sheets that smell like Hunter and just a tad bit hungover because after I thoroughly embarrassed myself and got left hanging high, dry, and horny, I stayed up and finished the bottle of wine Hunter opened for me.

The sun is already out, but that’s not what woke me up. I lay in bed for a second, trying to figure out what exactly pulled me out of unconsciousness, and then I hear it again. The pitter-patter of little feet making their way toward the door I’m currently hiding behind. I know it can’t be anyone but Riley, and so I sit up, bracing myself for her inevitable entry.

Seconds later, she comes bursting through the door, giggling like she’s running from someone, and hops in the bed with me. Well, not with me, on top of me, which makes me grunt as the door swings back closed, shrouding us in silence once more.

“Good morning, Mommy,” she says, knees in my stomach as she climbs over me and settles onto the pillows I just had my head on. “How did you sleep?”

“I slept just fine, Nugget. How about you?”

She gives me a thumbs up, indicating a great night’s sleep and making me smile. I’m so glad she feels comfortable here. Hunter’s house has always felt like a home to me, a place where you can be settled and safe, and it makes me happy that Riley feels that, too.

“How long have you been up?” I ask, turning onto my side and tossing an arm over her.

“A while. I woke up and went downstairs looking for you, but Daddy said you were still sleeping. We went on a walk to the tree house while it was still dark. We watched the sunrise.”

My heart squeezes as a flurry of emotions runs through me inspired by the images rolling through my mind. Hunter took Riley to our tree. I rub at my chest, pushing back the tears brimming in my eyes, so I don’t alarm Riley.

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