Logan locks the hotel room and notifies anyone interested that we are not to be disturbed, with a modern sign that glows elegant white. He’s wearing dark grey slacks and a light blue shirt with three buttons undone, no tie.

Over dinner when I admired them, he explained he purchased his cufflinks in Prague at an antique store. He was kind in keeping her name out of the many tales he shared with me, which I appreciated. But as I watch him unfasten them, the image of her with him as he considered buying the elegant clasps, draw a tinge of sadness from me.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, matching my frown.

I slide my fingers into the hair above my forehead and comb it back. “Nothing. I just can’t believe you’re here.”

He sets the jewelry on an accent table by the door, blue eyes sliding down my dress as he mentally removes it. His imagination isn’t good enough. “Take that off.”

My blood quickens and I slip my fingers under the spaghetti straps barely clinging to my shoulders. I slowly drag them down revealing the strapless bra to be an exact match to my panties and the dress. “I hope you like red.”

Logan’s voice is thicker as he smirks, “It’s suddenly my favorite color,” while unbuttoning his shirt.

My dress floats down to form a soft heap around my legs, leaving me only in my bra and panties.

He tosses his shirt onto the ground, crooks a finger at me. I walk up as our eyes lock.

“I’m a little nervous, Logan.”

“I’m not anymore. Let me handle this.” He wraps one arm around my lower back and swings me around in a dance move I know well. I bend to it, arching my back and stretching my arms gracefully. It’s a move I did with Asher, and Logan did with Ines on the stages. Emotion wells in my chest as I rise up and tenderly slip my arms around his neck as was choreographed in performance. “I wanted it to be me and you doing this, Sam.”

Regret blends with happiness as I trace his temples. “I’m so sorry, Logan.”

He kisses me, and steps away. I know the move he wants, so I back up to the farthest wall. A momentary pause where I flash a smile, and I’m running at him, caught just before I pass, dipped into the final moment.

In the play she dies after this. Donovan listened to his family and she lets heartbreak take hold. But that’s not how our story is going to end.

I jump up and hook my legs around his waist, toes pointed. I’m strong enough where I could hold myself like this as he takes me to the bed, but Logan’s hands are gripping my ass in a way we would never do on stage in front of our families. He is massaging me, kneading my skin, sliding in to where I split. With one smooth swoop, he lays us both on the bed. He cups the back of my head, fingers braided into my hair as he kisses me long and slow. Our tongues slide and lick as his warm erection rhythmically starts to grind on my wet panties. Tingles spring out everywhere, especially when he groans. I could try to wrestle with his belt, but I really enjoyed him taking charge. Surrendering feels so good.

He rasps my name, then buries himself in my neck to gnaw on it, his teeth moving in a steady beat. My moan is breathy as I turn my head to give better access to my neck. I can spread my legs pretty wide, even do the splits if I want. Logan knows this and runs his fingers up the insides of my legs from my pussy to my ankles, rising up with his chest taut, nipples hard. He kisses the inside of my ankle, and then the other, giving it a long lick before spreading my legs until they touch the four-poster bed.

His talented fingertips trace their way until they sneak under my panties and pull them to the side so he can take a look at me. I’m completely open to him, and he says it again…

“You’re beautiful.”

The soft pad of Logan’s middle finger drags up my swollen slit. He brings the finger to his lips and sucks on it, closing his eyes at my taste.

My hair is splayed out, shoulders relaxed as I watch him remove his belt and unzip his pants.

The string of muscles in his forearms is so sexy. I adore his biceps, too, but there’s something about Logan’s forearms and wrists. Don’t even get me started on his hands.

A woman can trust those hands.

That’s what you need from your dance partner. Complete and total trust.

As he frees the cock I saw but did not yet touch, memories flash before my eyes—a dozen recitals, music videos, and musicals we danced in together.

Logan smirks, as he strokes himself twice. “Are you smiling at this?”

“I’m wondering if you were always that big.”

He laughs, “Going down memory lane. I’m doing that, too.”

“I want you, Logan” Sitting up with a smile, I add, “I love you.”

He pauses. “I’ve loved you since we were eleven.”

I cry out, “You have not!” grinning at the improbability.

But he’s stone cold serious.

My bra gets snapped off with skill. My panties slide off with a tiny bit more work. He tosses them impatiently and drops most of his weight on me as I wrap my legs around him, hooking my ankles behind his sculpted ass. Logan’s naked cock is pressed against my pussy as we kiss, our hands exploring bare skin we’ve never touched before. My emotions are entangled with it. I feel like I might cry, but I’m holding back. Being with Steven never felt like this.

We kiss for a long time, relaxing into the transformation of who we used to be to each other, to who we are now. Logan murmurs against my breasts as he pauses from licking my nipple, “I have always wanted to do this.” He spends so much time that he wakes me up in a whole new way. I never knew these type of kisses could turn me on so much. I hadn’t spent much time thinking about my breasts, but Logan has. And he’s sharing all his ideas.

I tell him that I’m on birth control. Between kisses, he promises he’s clean, and I share the same. Not that I would think he’d be so selfish to not confess he’d caught something during all of his crazy travels, but it’s so much sexier to be sure. I chose this birth control so I didn’t have to use a condom with my now ex-boyfriend, since we were monogamous.

Logan strokes my pussy with one hand, and wraps the other around his cock. He rubs the mushroom-shaped tip against my clit and I moan.

“I love you,” he rasps, and begins to enter me. I’m drenched, making him wince in pleasure. He slides his hard length as deep as it can go, kisses me, and we begin to move. I’ve never had sex with a dancer before.

This man lives, really lives, in his body. He understands how it functions, not just for lifting weights, but every movement is trained. I’m swept away, moaning with abandon, forced to catch my breath as heat rockets into my core. His blue eyes I’ve known since forever are staring at me with such love, such need, that tears start to gather in my eyes. I rise, throw my arms around him and claw across his shoulder blades as thick, throbbing pulses tighten my pussy. He groans and claims my mouth, muffling my cries. The steady strokes slow to let me rest, but they don’t stop. He’s smiling at me as his hips thrust with a long stroke, then another, then another, picking up speed until he’s in a rhythm that satisfies us both. I grab his hips and buck mine. “You feel so good!”

He flips us over so that I’m riding him. My hair falls just above my breasts, both bouncing as I use my thighs, fucking him a little faster. Logan’s eyes roll back and close. The heavy lids crack open and he reaches up to play with my nipples, caressing them with his open palms so lightly that it’s infuriating. I moan and grab them, cupping his hands around me and holding them, because my nipples are too sensitive right now. Riding him from base to tip, repeatedly, I throw my head back and really feel how hard he is, how much he wants me, how beautiful he thinks I am.

He came back for me.

He left it all for me.

I don’t have to miss him anymore.

Beads of sweat slide between my breasts. Logan is shining, too. I’ve got him panting, groaning, trying to take control but half-heartedly. He’s enjoying me on top. I grab his hands, lace our fingers, and slam them above his head, craning my back so that my breasts reach toward his mouth to offer a bite. He claims my taut crest, licks it as I ride him a little slower, drawing each stroke out.

I’m close.

So is he.

He loves this.

Loves me.

My best friend growls my name as his muscles flex with need. His cock stiffens near the edge, pushing me nearer to mine. A burning heat sends waves of intense pleasure into my pussy, all her edges and insides. The waves take hold of me, my willpower, my ability to think. “Logan,” I cry out, as I give myself to it. He rolls me over to be on top, lifting my leg as he grinds. His hips arch up, the top veiny line of his length hitting my clit perfectly. The warmth hits a new high. I grip his arms as my legs stiffen with each stroke of his cock. Tears I was holding back break free. Logan roars, unleashes everything he has to give me while I marvel at how beautiful he looks when he cums. How primitive and crazy, and completely and utterly beautiful.

He hugs me, panting, our sweaty chests squished together as he turns us on our sides, still inside me as he wipes my cheeks and kisses my tears.

“You okay?” he whispers.

“No,” I sob, burrowing into his neck. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t.”

“Let’s move in together!”

With love in his eyes, Logan grins, “I thought you’d never ask.”