I loved this city, but on days like this, I missed the heady scent of freshly cut hay and my grandmother’s garden. The wind blew, hot and heavy, and I almost choked. Gross.
When we got upstairs, Nell was waiting for us. “I have some exciting things planned for us today!” she said, like we were in it together. She smiled, reminding me of an old-fashioned villain. “Chest and back.”
We got right into it. She had me doing one-legged push-ups. Star push-ups. I was on my knees for most of them, but she had me doing so many, the sweat dripped off the tip of my nose and formed a puddle beneath me.
“Oh!” Nell said, a million reps later. “Guests.”
I took that as permission to rest and dropped to my chest. It was the boys. Their gazes were on me. I had the urge to wipe my face and sniff my armpits, but what good would that do? I was only going to get sweaty again.
Each of them wore expressions of concern, along with shorts, running shoes, and t-shirts. Were they going to work out with me?
I smiled, rolling to one side. “Hey, fellas. What are you all dressed up for?” It was the kind of thing I would have said to them eight years ago, and it slipped out just as easy now.
“It seemed weird to just watch,” Brant said.
“Not that I’d be opposed,” Wes added under his breath.
A wave of heat rolled over me.
“I think we’re good for a break,” Nell said. She moved toward my water bottle, but Wes snagged it first. He handed it to Landry before offering his hand to shake. “I’m Westin Morehouse.”
“Nell. I’m the physical therapist. Are you going to be working out with us?” she asked.
“That’s our plan,” Westin said. “If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Nell replied. “Working out with a partner is great motivation. So I’m going to leave you for about fifteen minutes.” She clapped her hands together. “Get some water and start stretching. We’re going to move to flexibility next.”
Groaning, I sat up.
“I need to use the bathroom,” Candy said. “You good?”
“I’m fine,” I told her, and she left. It was me and the boys now, and there was this loaded energy between us.
“How are you?” I asked when the door closed behind my nurse.
The air conditioner switched on, blowing cool air right down my back, and I shivered.
“Fine,” Landry answered. He grabbed my sweater off a chair and brought it over to me to put on.
“We’re early.” Josh grinned, not looking at all sorry for it.
“I have no idea what time it is.” I imagined I’d been doing push-ups for at least four hours. “What time is it?”
“About eleven in the morning,” Brant answered, looking at his watch.
“Holy crap, Brant. Does that thing beam you into space?” I’d never seen anything as big as the face on the watch he wore. How had I missed that? It looked like it could produce a hologram.
He laughed, rotating his wrist so he could see it. “It’s a dive watch.”
“It’s huge.”
He smiled, slow and seductive. “I know.”
Had I felt chilly before? I pulled my sweater away from neck and chest.
“Do you need help stretching?” Wes’s voice was right next to my head.
I jumped. I hadn’t even heard him sit. But now there he was, on his knees, hands resting on them. Tattoos covered his thighs. “Gee, Wes. Is there any part of you that’s not inked?”
“You’ll have to find out.” His voice was low and went right to my core. “Get on your back, I’ll start stretching you.”
I moved slowly, carefully, gaze jumping from his to the other boys’. They came closer, seating themselves around me. They started to stretch, too, which made me a little less self-conscious, but not much.
Wes lifted up on his knees and took my leg in his hands. With my foot next to his face, he gently pushed my leg to a ninety-degree angle. At ninety-degrees, most people began to feel burning and stretching behind their knee, but as a dancer, I could fold myself in half. My injury had left me less limber, but he could push my leg well past ninety. “Okay?” he asked. His blue eyes caught mine. He braced one hand next to my head, pushing with the other. His body lay against my leg, keeping it straight. One knee was pressed against me while the other was against my hip.
Words. He wanted words.
But I couldn’t give them. All I could do was stare into his eyes. At no point did my brain give my hands permission to touch him, but there they went. I cupped his cheeks with one, and then another. Wes’s eyebrows lowered, eyes narrowing, and he pushed my leg down a little farther. “Bets.”
God. His knee. I wiggled my hips just a little. He glanced up suddenly, locking eyes with someone before he kissed me. My leg fell to the side, opening me up. Wes’s hand slapped the mat next to my head while the other cupped my cheek, holding me so we could kiss.
My tongue dragged against his, over and over. A warm metal ball flicked against me. His tongue was pierced. Holy hell.
Westin devoured me. He was all around me, against me. His scent, something clean and sharp, filled my nose. He pulled away. “I never thought we’d be here again.” He shut his eyes. “I’m so fucking grateful.”
I rocked against him, but there was only air between us. He was still on his knees, still propped above me. This ache was driving me mad.
Wes kissed me again, and a sudden pressure between my legs made me gasp into his mouth. A hand, warm and rough, pushed past the waist of my leggings and underwear and slid through my folds.
I made a noise, and Landry’s voice soothed me. “I’ve got you. I can’t watch, Betsy. I have to touch you.”
The last thing I wanted was to stop kissing Wes, so rather than answer, I opened my legs wider. Landry groaned, and somewhere in the distance, so did Josh and Brant.
“Fuckin’ A.” Brant’s voice was like sandpaper dipped in chocolate.
What did they think about this? About me? Splayed out and writhing while Landry fingered me and Wes kissed me?
Josh moaned. “You’re beautiful, Betsy.” It was encouragement and acceptance. And I let go. I let myself get lost as Wes tasted me and Landry curled his finger inside me. I chased my orgasm, hips lifted and falling. I kept Wes’s hands to my face, loving the way they seemed to hold me safe and shield me.
This was me and the boys. Just us.
I came hard and fast. My breath rushing out of me like a train as I slowly came down. Wes’s kiss softened. His lips went to my cheeks and forehead. He kissed my eyes and pressed his lips to my neck, holding them there as he breathed deeply.
“God, Betsy. You’re the most amazing woman in the world.” He drew back and looked down at me. “I can’t believe I got to touch you.” He shut his eyes, shaking his head from side to side. When he opened them again, his eyes were glassy but no tears fell.
There was a knock on the door and our predicament roared into my head. I sat up in a rush, but Landry lazily called out. “Just a minute.”
Wes knelt next to me, straightening my shirt as Landry withdrew his fingers. He took off his t-shirt, revealing his heavily sculpted and tattooed chest, and wiped his glistening fingers.
The sight distracted me for a second before I studied his form again. There was the scrollwork I had been wanting to read, clear as day. “Come in!” he called, just as I made out the writing.
What goes around, comes around.
I glanced up at him. What did that mean?
Before I could ask, the door opened and Nell and Candy came back inside. Neither one of them looked flustered, which was more than I could say for myself. I was certain they could read, I was fooling around! written right across my forehead.
I had no regrets, even if my face was red.
“So.” Josh came to stand next to us. His cheekbones were stained pink, and his hands were crossed over his pelvis like he was hiding something. I lifted my eyebrows, but he just shrugged. “So, we want to help w
ith whatever you’re doing here. Is there something you can teach us we can work on when we leave?”
Nell smiled broadly. “Oh yes! Candy has been watching for the same reason, but if you’re going to be with Betty, that’s great. She can show you some of the exercises I want Betty doing every day.”
Kneeling behind me with her hand on my back, Nell gave me a little push. “I know this one hurt yesterday, but we need to do it again so you don’t tense up.” I put my legs straight out in front of me, the back of my knees to the mat, and began to lean forward. “The goal is cheek to knees, but if we can get you at less than forty-five degrees today, that’d be great.”
I stretched, hands toward my toes, and let my head drop between my arms. I pointed the foot I was able to flex as I bent at the waist. Nell let me stretch as far as I could on my own before she began to add some pressure. With one hand between my shoulder blades and the other just above my waist, she pushed. My knees wanted to come up off the ground. “Keep them loose,” she whispered. “It’s okay to bend them.”
I didn’t want to, though. The way I had been taught was to push through the pain and hold. The more it hurt, the deeper the stretch.
“This is different than dance.” It was like she could read my mind. “One leg is at a different angle, and you need to let that knee bend.” She let up on the pressure and sighed. “You’re not going to get anywhere by hurting yourself.”
I let out a breath. Someone grabbed my toe, and I looked up. Brant was there, a tight smile on his face. “You can do this.” He opened his legs, placing one on either side of mine and held out his hands.
When I was about eleven, I’d had the first sign that my feelings for the boys were deeper than I imagined in a moment just like this. Madame Giroux had been a monster that day, angry at me because I wasn’t flexible enough. My feet didn’t turn out far enough. My lines weren’t clean.
Brant had ridden over to my house and found me, one leg propped on the porch rail as I stretched.
“What in the hell are you doing?” he asked. We’d just started to swear (the tamest ones) and only among each other (when we were sure no one would hear).
“I’m stretching.”
I could see Brant, legs on either side of his bike as he stared at me. I’d cried on my way home from dance, mad at Madame Giroux and mad at myself for crying about it.
“Need help?” he asked as he got off the bike and laid it carefully in the grass. He jogged up the stairs.
“Okay,” I answered. I plopped onto my butt and held my hands out.
“Why’d you sit down if you just need help getting up?” He rolled his eyes.
“Sit down, dummy,” I directed, “and take my hands. I need you to pull me until my nose touches my knees.”
Brant’s eyes lit up. “I gotta see this.”
We sat, toe to toe, and I reached for him. When our fingers touched though, something strange happened. His palms were slick with sweat and his fingernails dirty, but when his hands gripped mine, I didn’t feel that.
He pulled, and I slowly bent in half. “Holy crap, Bets!” His voice was proud. “Look at you.”
It made me push myself harder, hold myself in that stretch longer. His hands were strong, and my heart raced. Finally, I’d let go and sat up. “Thanks,” I’d said.
He shook his head and jumped to his feet. “No problem. That was cool. What else can you do?”
I was reminded of that now as he held his hands to me and waited. His hands were tan, like he spent time in the sun, and I took them. Against mine, they were even darker. “Tell me when to stop,” he said, and gently pulled me toward him.
I folded at the waist, arms in front of me. The deeper I stretched, the farther Brant moved his hands up my arms. He went from my hands to my wrists, to my elbows, and finally, he pressed on my shoulders, holding me in place with my cheek to my knees. “There you go.”
I let out my breath, turned my head to the side, and breathed. As I sat back up, I met his eyes.
“Look at you.”
“Nicely done!” Nell’s comment startled me. There had been no one in this room except me, Brant, and my memories. “I want you to keep doing that.”
“No problem.” Brant winked at me. “We’ve been doing this for years.”
Present tense. But that wasn’t really true.
Nell didn’t know that and moved on. Each guy took a turn with me, practicing the stretches and how to support me. For an entire hour, one of the boys had their hands on me, pushing and holding my body.
It was in one of those positions, Josh holding my hips as Landry helped me extend my good leg, that my stomach growled.
“Lunch!” Josh announced.
I burst out laughing. “The polite thing to do was ignore my growl!” I chided.
“No way. A rumble that loud needs to be fed immediately.”
Wes and Brant were out the door before I knew what was happening. “Where are you going?”
“Feed the rumble!” Wes called over his shoulder, flashing a “peace” sign.
Candy chuckled in the corner, and Nell covered her face with her hand. “I’m going to get Mike,” she muttered, not making eye contact.
“I’ll go with her,” Candy added.
I appreciated the effort not to laugh at me, but then my belly growled again and they lost it. “Do a cool-down,” Nell said. “Five minutes on the treadmill at two miles an hour. Got it?”
I saluted her and rolled onto my side. I had to get the crutch back on. Landry and Josh watched me, their gazes following me as I arranged the straps and padding. The light-heartedness disappeared, sucked out of the room by whatever they were feeling. Landry held his hands out to me, helping me to my feet. At some point, probably during the reign of terror Nell called stretching, he’d found another shirt.
With me holding onto his arm, I got situated on the treadmill and started to walk. Landry stood there, arms braced on the sides as I worked up to my lightning fast two miles an hour.
Josh came to stand on the other side, but didn’t say anything.
I thought back to what we’d done earlier. I didn’t care—truly—that I’d come while the other boys watched. But beneath their stares, I wondered if it bothered them.
“Should I be apologizing?” I asked, embarrassingly out of breath. This was supposed to be a cool-down.
“For what?” Josh asked. I glanced at him before staring forward. With my balance off, turning my head made me lilt in that direction.
“Orgasming in front of everyone.”
I peered at him, not surprised to find his face flushed, but he was shaking his head. “Never apologize for that. Hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Things had really changed. I tried to imagine saying such a thing in front of them when we were younger, and couldn’t. I’d never been a shy flower, but I hadn’t come into my sexuality. There were definitely times when I’d kissed one boy in front of another.
“I’m not embarrassed,” Landry said. “And I’d do it again.”
“Okay.” I took a breath. So it wasn’t that. “But something’s going on. What is it?”
They were both silent. “Lan?” I hazarded a glance at him and caught my crutch on the edge. I stumbled, but Josh moved fast and caught me before I could face plant.
His face was tight, lip white where he bit it. “This. This is the issue.”
“Rehab?” I clarified.
“No,” he answered and shook his head. Apparently he wasn’t going to go on. “Lan.” Josh glanced at his friend as he placed me on the edge of a weight bench.
Landry knelt in front of me, unstrapping my crutch. “Someone did this to you.”
I was well aware.
“Someone did this to you, and I haven’t heard a god-damned thing about it. No one has any idea who. There should be a fucking man-hunt, and the world has just moved on like it doesn’t matter.”
In the days since I’d allowed the boys back into my life, I had pushed the event that go
t me here way in the back of my mind. Compartmentalizing was how I survived. Thoughts about them. About Mari. About being called a whore. About freezing in my apartment as my blood drained out of my body. I pushed all of it away.
I didn’t know if it was a good way of doing things, but it was the way my mind worked.
“Have you heard anything else?” Josh asked, his voice soft, lacking the edge of Lan’s.
I shook my head. “Nothing.” I took a breath and lifted my gaze to Lan’s. “I should have.” Straightening my shoulders, I glanced at the door. “When the boys get back, and my staff joins us, you can ask Mike. If anyone knows more details, it’s him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he already had a suspect.”
“I like Mike,” Lan said.
“He’s going to do a background check on you.” I tilted my head, studying him, but he held my gaze, clearly not intimidated.
“Good. I hope he does one on everyone. Nell. Candy. Every. One.”
“I think he does,” I replied.
“Bets,” Josh started and cleared his throat. “Who do you think did this?”
It was a question the detectives in Vegas had asked me, too. “It could be anyone really. Someone who was fired from the show. Someone who didn’t make the cut. Someone who thinks I should burn in hell and suffer for all eternity because I show my tits and ass cheeks to the world.”
If I made a list of actual names, though, it was a lot shorter. Employee firings were few and far between, but they did happen. I did my very best to make the separation as painless as possible. Even for people fired, I made sure they got a final paycheck, something to buoy them until they found another job. But that didn’t mean they weren’t bitter.
Bitter enough to hurt me? That was the question.
“I called the detectives.”
I lifted my eyebrows at Lan’s announcement, but I didn’t say anything. If our roles were reversed, and someone I cared about had been hurt, I’d have called them, too. Cared?
Of course I cared about them. But that’s where it stopped. It had to stop there.
“I let them know about my father and Wes’s.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Wes had given them the same info, but never told me about it. My only hope is they question him while he’s at the country club.” His gaze narrowed and his hand, which cupped my knee, tightened. No longer looking at me, he glared at something behind me.
Boys and Burlesque Page 25
