What I love, too, is how he let me help him set up his home for Mister Dog, since we picked up a collar with ducks on it and a leash, bowls, a bag of food, a dog bed, and dog stairs at the little pet shop next to the rescue.
“Well, it’ll help him sleep on my bed,” Sawyer explains, as if I needed an explanation.
The next morning, I wake to a text from Sawyer. It’s a photo of Mister Dog in bed with him. They both look sleepy and happy. My heart feels dangerously full.
On Monday night, it’s time for another dance lesson. But this one’s at the theater. This one’s just for us. My mother gave me the key, and it’s well past nine as we practice and practice and practice. With Sawyer singing about flying to the moon, then reaching for my hand during the prerecorded instrumental bridge, we dance until he’s as smooth as the singer he’s replaced.
“And this is another thing you’re good at,” I say when he dips me, then sets me down on the piano bench so I can finish playing the song while he sings the final chorus of the romantic tune.
But he doesn’t return to center stage. He sets down his micon the glossy black baby grand. I keep playing, figuring he’ll improvise.
And I suppose he does. He slides behind me on the bench, one leg on either side of mine, his chest to my back, his face to my neck, his lips on my cheek.
I gasp but keep playing.
It’s hard, though, since he’s kissing me, his open-mouthed caresses turning my brain to mush. Soon, my fingers are sliding off the keys, and his fingers are pulling up the silky fabric of my dress, then running along my inner thighs, and I’m pretty sure he wants to fly me to the moon in a whole new way.
In no time, he slips his fingers inside my panties. This wasn’t what we came here for, but it feels inevitable.
My breath catches, and somewhere in my mind I’m keenly aware we’re on the stage in a community theater at the piano bench.
But somewhere in my body—or everywhere, really—I’m aware of how much I want him to keep touching me.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper, my voice needy, a plea.
“I won’t,” he says as he kisses my jaw.
It feels like a promise.
The other thing that feels like a promise? When he taps my thigh, tells me to stand, then says, “Get on me.”
It’s a rough, dirty command.
But a necessary one, too, as he adds, “Need you so fucking much.”
It feels like more than sex as I slip out of my panties and hand them to him, and he undoes the zipper on his slacks, freeing hiserection. I straddle him on the piano bench, in the theater, under the lights, with no music playing but the notes in my head.
The refrain of “Fly Me to the Moon.” The romantic words, the promises, the possibilities. I feel them all as Sawyer fills me and fucks me and kisses me like everything between us is inevitable.
33
UNBELIEVABLE
SAWYER
I’m probably breaking a first-week-adoptiondon’tby bringing Chloe’s dog over after we leave the theater that night. But I don’t want to be without her—not after that rehearsal. Not after the way she fell apart on me on the piano bench.
I don’t want to be without her dog either. They’re a package deal.
We swing by her place and pick up Captain. Chloe changes out of her dress and tosses on leggings. She looks as sexy in casual clothes as she does in a dress and heels.
When we reach my home, Chloe says hi to Mister Dog first, then we let the guys meet in the back yard. Captain’s cautious at first and barks once or twice, but soon they chase each other around the yard, then a tree, then do that dog-bow welcome thing.
I wrap an arm around Chloe. “I think they like each other,” I say, my heart swelling at the way they get along. Sure, they’re dogs. It’s in their nature to pal around. That’s the premise of my business too. That dogs are friendly and social. Still, I’m aware that dogs don’t always like each other, so I’m happy to take the win.
“Me too,” she says, resting her head against me with a happy sigh.
I want to bottle up thatsound, hold on to it. Instead, I press a kiss to her forehead, words welling up in my throat. Words likeI’mso glad they get along, since you’re going to be here all the time. Or I’ll be at your place. Or we’ll be together.
