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“Is the dog going to be okay?” Rick asked Sloane after Kate hopped down, all squeaky clean and grinning in happiness. “She isn’t going to weird about us getting it on, is she?”

“I don’t think so. But I don’t really know. She’s never watched me enjoying sex before.”

Rick laughed before he realized that wasn’t really funny. “Sorry. Too soon?”

She shook her head. “It’s fine. It’s funny now because I never even really knew my sex life sucked. But I don’t know about role playing as a cheerleader. That’s a lot of jumping around.”

Jumping around sounded like something he wanted to see. “Maybe we should put her in my apartment for an hour. We don’t want to stress her out.”

“True. Isn’t she a sweetheart?”

He nodded. “She’s a cool chick just like you.” Kate was a very calm dog, especially considering everything that had happened to her the past few days. Hell, the last three months. He was pretty sure that’s when Sloane had gotten divorced.

She put a leash on Kate and they went back upstairs. The dog didn’t even protest when they put her in Rick’s apartment. He conceded to give her a pillow and a blanket and let her sleep on the couch. He closed the door to River’s room. There was a stuffed animal village in there that might be tantalizing to Kate.

“Sit down,” Sloane said, wh

en they were in her apartment. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be a minute.”

She had done more unpacking. There were only a few boxes sitting around still. She had hung up some personal photos. One of Kate. Two of Finn. One of her, Sullivan, Liam, and Kendra at Sullivan and Kendra’s wedding. The smile on Sullivan’s smile made him sad for his buddy. The guy had loved his wife so much.

What would it be like to love someone like that?

Sloane walked into the living room and every thought Rick had left his mind. He was pretty sure his jaw hit the floor. “Holy shit…”

She posed in the doorframe, raising her arms up, which lifted the tight sleeveless top even more. She grinned. “What do you think? It still fits, but barely.”

In the dozen years since high school Sloane had developed more womanly curves so that her old uniform was clinging to her tits. The skirt had raised on her waist, pushed up by her more generous, making it short as sin. He had a view of legs that went on forever, long and lean. One false move and he was going to see her panties. He couldn’t wait.

“It fits like a glove.”

She laughed. “Hardly. But given the look on your face, I’m going to assume you approve of the tighter version.”

“Oh, I do, baby, I absolutely do.” He wanted to touch her, run his hands up under that skirt but he didn’t want to cut short whatever she was planning. “Give me a B.”

There was a B for Beaver Bend emblazoned on the shirt. The uniform was a royal blue with gold lettering. Their mascot had been a hawk, which made no sense for a school called Beaver Bend High. He and his friends had all been disappointed they couldn’t make beaver jokes at school events.

“I’m kind of sad I don’t have pom-poms. That really would have sealed the deal.”

“I don’t even miss them,” he said in total honesty. “I don’t want any of you covered up.”

She walked into the living room and spun, so that her skirt twirled from the sharp movement. He almost caught a glimpse up her skirt but not quite. Back to him, she touched the screen on her phone. Jock Jams came blaring out.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. That song took him right back to high school and pep rallies and lusting after Sloane. “Bring it.”

On the beat, she whirled back around and bent over, swinging her head so that her hair went flying. She remembered the dance routine. She actually fucking remembered it and she was hitting every move. Every rock and arm motion, a sultry expression on her face. He sat there and got hard as fuck watching her. What made him actually swear out loud though was when she did a kick and he saw right up under that tiny skirt.

No panties.

He saw everything she had for one brief amazing moment before her leg came back down. She moved closer to him with some kind of cheerleader voodoo that had her moving her arms and legs in a way that propelled her forward. He didn’t know what any of it was called, just that it was destroying his ability to form words.

When the music came to an end, and she turned and stomped off, shooting him an arrogant look over her shoulder, he clapped. It was a performance worthy of applause. “Babe, you killed it. That was fucking hot.”

She turned and dropped the smoldering expression. She started laughing, a little breathless. “That was fun, I admit it. Maybe I should start going to dance classes as a hobby.”

“I’ll pay for them,” he said. “Especially if they’re pole dancing classes.”

Pulling a face, she came over and stood over him, placing both palms on his chest. “You’re very bad.”

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