Page 6 of Coupled (Alphas Forever 3)

Ethan

I’m giddy as fuck when Samantha shows up that night, but I have enough self-control to keep on a straight face.

“Come in,” I say, holding the door open for her. She looks as frustrated as she did in the studio, and I hate how hard she’s being on herself—it’s just a dance. If she could only learn to enjoy it, she’d be fine. Besides, no one is going to judge her if she doesn’t perform the steps perfectly.

I’m determined to make her feel better about the whole thing by the time she leaves.

“Thanks for letting me come over,” Samantha says, glancing around my place. “Wow. Your apartment is nice. Should I take my shoes off?”

“Either way’s fine,” I say. “And, seriously, I’m more than happy to help.”

She nods and presses her lips together, waiting for me to take the lead.

“Let’s get to it,” I say, and motion for her to follow me into the living room. As much as I want to make a move right now, I know I’ve gotta do this right. Dance practice first. Then we’ll see where it goes. I move my living room furniture out of the way to make space for us, shoving the coffee table out of the way first, then moving the couch, too.

“Jeez,” mumbles Samantha. “You make it seem so light.”

The corner of my mouth curls up. I hold out a hand and Samantha nervously steps toward me.

“Is there any part in particular that you’re struggling with?” I ask.

“It’s the whole thing.”

So we run through it from the beginning. It comes easily to me, since we’ve practiced it so many times in the dance studio. I can do it backward and forward. I can slow it down to half time, quarter time, whatever.

“Now hands out,” I tell her. She follows. “Now your left foot. No, your other left.”

“Shit. Shit. I’m never going to get this.”

“Hey,” I say. “You’re doing great.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Let’s go over it again.”

We start over from the beginning. But this time she screws up a different part of the routine. Exasperated, she grunts and lets out a long sigh.

“You need to relax,” I say.

Samantha snorts. “Yeah, well, if it was that easy, I would be relaxed.”

I look at her for a few seconds. Then I say, “Turn around.”

“What?”

“Turn around,” I repeat. She gives me a funny look. But she does as I tell her to. I place my hands on her shoulders and begin to massage them. Fuck, she’s tense. Gently, I work her shoulders, rubbing them through her shirt. Thoughts of touching her bare skin flit through my mind, but I push the thoughts away.

“Is this too hard?” I ask. Her shoulders are so dainty in my hands.

“No,” she says. “It’s good.”

After a while longer, her head dips in relaxation. I can finally feel her stress start to melt away. Good. It pleases me that I’m able to help her. I’ll be happy to give her a massage for the rest of the evening, if that’s how long it takes to get her fully relaxed. She’s just overthinking the moves. If she’s relaxed, she’ll get them. I’m sure of it.

Then a quiet moan escapes from her lips, a moan that suddenly makes it impossible not to think those dirty thoughts again.

I move my hands lower and massage her back. Damn, it feels so good to touch her body. She’s got this darling little waist before her curves take over. I could caress and savor her all day.

I lean in toward her ear. “Feeling better?”

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