Chapter 62
sixty-two
Its a Saturday, and Logan and I are at Summit Studio with the rest of the crew, and I have never felt more out of place in my entire fucking life.
Bright lights coupled with the mirrored ceiling and walls make it impossible to miss the sheer ridiculousness of six grown men in shorts and tank tops, jumping around like a bunch of damn chimpanzees.
Kurtis is already sweating, and we’ve barely even started. His wife, Sarah, stands off to the side, giggling as her husband attempts to pull himself up. But every time he does, he gets stuck.
Currently, he’s clinging for dear life, face smashed against chrome, legs wrapped so tightly around the pole it reminds me of a fly stuck to flypaper. And he’s barely half a foot off the ground.
“Babe,” Kurtis hisses, skin squeaking as he slides down one inch at a time. “You could have warned me how hard this is.”
Sarah just smiles and pats his butt. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I bite back a laugh and glance over at Alan, who’s clearly making a spectacle of himself. He’s got both hands wrapped around the pole, one foot braced against the base, lifting his other foot off the ground like he’s trying to climb over a fence.
When he finally manages to get a handle on it, his foot slips and his grip gives way, landing him square on his ass with a thud.
Melody cackles, doubling over. “Shit, Alan! That’s the third freaking time!”
“You shut that pretty mouth,” he mutters, rubbing his tailbone as he pushes himself back up. “This is harder than it looks.”
Dave, to his credit, is actually doing pretty well. He’s managed to keep both feet off the ground for a solid five seconds before dropping to the ground. It’s not graceful, but at least he’s not one with the floor.
Taylor, healing nicely from his injures, has one ankle hooked around the bottom of his pole, with his other leg extended, trying to twist his body into what I can only assume is a setup for some kind of backward spin. Face red, his veins are popping in his neck, but he’s holding on.
“Fucks, sake, Tay, take it easy! You’re gonna pop a blood vessel.”
Logan tried keeping him on medical leave for a while longer, but Taylor stubbornly refused.
“Eat shit, Brexy,” he grunts, adjusting his grip.
Shaking my head, I turn my attention to the front of the room.
Reyna looks incredible. Her hair is pulled up in a high ponytail that swings with every sway of her hips. She’s wearing a tiny pair of blue shorts and a white sports bra, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Every time she bends over, my brain short-circuits.
“Okay,” she announces, clapping her hands together. “For this next move, I want you to take note of the positioning of my hands and feet. It’s all about leverage. Use those six-packs, boys. I know you can do this.”
Stacking both hands, she presses the inside of her thigh and calf against the pole. Then, in one fluid motion, she pushes off with her feet and spins, legs in a half circle around the pole before dropping back down.
Logan is standing to my left. He hasn’t taken his eyes off her ass since we first walked in.
“There is no way in hell you’re landing that move,” I chortle, nudging him with an elbow.
He gives me a side-eye. “Right. Like you can?”
Wheels turning, I watch Reyna’s hips sway as she hurries over to help Dave.
“Okay,” I say, matter of fact. “Since it’s your fault we’re stuck in this predicament—”
“My fault?” Eyes on Reyna, Logan raises an eyebrow, tilting his head as she bends over. Again. “You’re the one who folded.”
“If I stick this, I get to take Reyna for a ride in my helicopter. Alone.”
Logan’s face goes through about six different emotions in the span of two seconds before he looks at me, challenge flashing in his eyes.
“And if you don’t?”
Over the past couple of weeks, we’ve only taken Reyna out together—dinner at The Brew, a hike up to Cedar Ridge, movie night at his place—but we haven’t had any one-on-one time yet.
The three of us have been navigating this new dynamic, and it’s been incredible, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t itching to have her all to myself again for a few hours.
I tighten my grip on the pole and shrug like my entire plan isn’t hinging on whether I can do a move I’ve never attempted before in my life. “Then you get the one-on-one.”
His eye ticks as he weighs the pros and cons. On one hand, there’s no doubt he’s confident I’m going to eat shit. On the other, the stakes are high enough that there’s no way he’s not going to cave.
This is gonna be good.
“Cooome ooon. You know you want to,” I sing-song. Because there is absolutely no way either one of us is going to pull this off.
But the bet isn’t so much about landing the move. It’s more about who’s willing to look like the biggest idiot for a shot at alone time with the woman we’re both crazy about.
When his mouth twitches, I know I’ve got him. “You’re on.”
Unbeknownst to the rest of the room, Logan and I get into position, ready to square off.
My biceps flex as I prepare to launch myself.
Logan’s competitive streak runs deeper than the Grand Canyon, so I know he’s going to give this everything he’s got.
“Hey, Rey?” Reyna looks up from where she’s showing Taylor how to point his toes. “Can you show me that spin one more time?”
Ice-blue eyes meet mine as she shakes her head. God, she’s gorgeous. And confident. And powerful. Not to mention completely in control of my libido. It’s more than a struggle to keep my dick from thickening in my shorts.
“Watch closely, boys.” She gets into position. “Hands at shoulder height, dominant foot planted, then push off and swing your outside leg around.”
She executes the spin flawlessly, body arcing in a graceful curve before she lands with barely a sound.
“Got it?”
“Yup. Thanks.” I shoot Logan a cocky grin. “Ready to eat my dust?”
He just grunts, getting himself into position. I can practically see the gears turning in his stubborn head.
I wrap my hands around the pole. “On three?”
“Just fucking do it,” he grumbles.
Taking a deep breath, we each plant our right foot, pushing off at the same time.
Adrenaline surges in my veins as I fly through the air, and there’s a second where I’m sure I’m going to fall on my ass. But the arc of my spin is clean, and I come down, landing solidly on my feet.
“Holy shit! I did it!”
Reyna comes over and gives me a high-five. “Awesome job!”
My shit-eating grin practically splits my face in two when I turn, just in time to see Logan bite the dust, ass hitting the mat so hard, I swear I can feel it in my own tailbone.
Everyone erupts into cheers.
“Oof!”
“Rough landing, Cap!”
“Better luck next time!”
Chest heaving, Logan falls back against the mat, sweat glistening on his forehead as he glares up at the mirrored ceiling.
“Nice try, bud,” I say, bending over to thump his chest. “Looks like someone’s going to get the helicopter ride of her life.”
Eyes full of what can only be construed as murderous intent, Logan’s hand shoots up, locking around my wrist like a vice.
“Oh, shit—”
Giving me no time to react, he hooks his foot behind my ankle and my legs go out from under me. I hit the mat beside him with a loud grunt, knocking the air right out of my lungs.
“Motherfucker,” I wheeze, rolling onto my side.
“Alright, you two!” Standing over us, hands on her hips, Reyna whisper-shouts, “This is not a wrestling ring.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I mutter, pushing myself to my feet.
Logan gets up, dusting his hands off on his shorts with a scowl.
The second he’s upright, I give him another shove. “Dick.”
“Asshole,” he growls, shoving me even harder, causing me to stumble into the pole behind me with a clang.
“Seriously?” Reyna throws her hands up. “You two are worse than a couple of toddlers.”
“Tell him to stop gloating,” Logan growls, not taking his eyes off me.
“Tell him to stop being a sore loser,” I counter with another shove.
“That’s it,” she hisses.
Grabbing each of us by the back of the neck, she pulls our faces down to her level—which is no small feat for someone so tiny.
Damn, she’s strong.
“If you two don’t cut it out right now, you’re going to be sucking your own dicks for a week. Got it?”
When Logan opens his mouth to argue, Reyna silences him with a glare that could freeze the balls off the devil himself.
My eyes go wide as my dick flexes in response.
A couple of the guys behind us snort, trying to smother their laughter.
We decided collectively a couple of weeks ago to let the crew in on our “dating” situation. They were starting to get suspicious anyway. Logan was more than apprehensive about it, but the guys didn’t even bat an eye. In fact, they wished us well.
“Jesus, Rey,” I mutter, heat creeping up my neck.
Logan grunts, muscle twitching at his temple. “We’re done.”
“Good boy.” She lets go, adjusting her sports bra with a satisfied nod. “Now, since both of you clearly need to burn off some extra energy, you can each drop and give me fifty.”
“Push ups?” I ask incredulously.
“You bet your ass.”
Logan snorts. “You did this to yourself, you know.”
With a smirk, I drop down on all fours. “Worth it.”