Chapter 8
Dakota
Apparently, nursing a killer hangover was the least of my problems this morning; my late-night ride turned out to be completely… unexpected.
Never had a man lingered in the back of my mind for as long as that stud of a cowboy; our single fuck playing on loop in my head like a broken record since leaving the bar.
Tiffany wore a shit-eating grin on her face the entire drive home, not even hesitating to note how I was glowing with a sexual effervescence and that I should definitely see him again.
I wasn’t one to deviate from the rules of a one-night stand, but… if we did cross paths, I could see myself taking him for another ride.
“Breakfast has arrived!” My bright and bubbly sister sang at the highest fucking pitch imaginable as she barged into the studio holding two smoothies in the air; my head now ringing in time with the doorbell. “How’s that hangover treating you, D?” She innocently chuckled.
“Shut up, Tiff… You did this.” I groaned while aggressively rubbing my temples to stop the throbbing pain. I’d taken an ibuprofen before leaving the house, but it wasn’t kicking in fast enough, and her loud voice wasn’t helping.
“Well, good thing I come with a peace offering.” Tiffany held out one of the drinks, and I took her apology without further question, sucking down as much as I could in one long-held breath.
As the delicious mixture of coconut, pineapple, and strawberry mingled on my tongue, something else caught my attention, and I glanced down at my olive branch, assessing the branding on the cup before lifting my gaze to my sister, who was sipping on hers while glossing over a postcard.
“Where’d you get these?” I quizzed, realizing these weren’t her typical morning fruit smoothies from the juice bar down the street.
“You hate protein shakes…” The strong aftertaste of whey alerted me to one of the two things she wasn’t telling me.
Hopefully, she’d come clean with the other, or her ‘sorry’ will cost more than a shake.
“Across the street. The owner of a new dance studio was handing them out for their grand opening promotion, and I figured, why not?” A nonchalant shrug accompanied her words, and it set me off like a loaded shotgun.
“A new—” What the fuck? “Tiff!” I furiously pushed myself off the front desk, ignoring the sudden hit of vertigo as I stepped around the counter to confront her ignorant ass.
“What? Free is free?—Hey!”
“You dirty little traitor. A new dance studio?” I snatched the flyer from my sister’s hand, carefully enunciated each word, repeating what she’d said to confirm she was getting the whole fucking picture.
“I—uhh…” Tiffany curled in on herself like a turtle retracting into its shell for shelter.
“Un-fucking-believable…” I threw my hands in the air while blind rage consumed the remnants of my headache.
“It’s not that big of a deal, D. I’m sure you’re not—”
Unable to listen to Tiffany justify her reasoning, I took the information card along with my offensive shake and stormed off to find out just what kind of asshole had the nerve to open a studio directly across the street from mine.
This was my goddamn turf, and I’ll make sure this owner knows exactly whose toes they’re treading on.
Their studio was so new that the sign above the main entrance hadn't even been installed yet; however, the obnoxiously large grand-opening banner and vinyl window decal were more than enough to tell me I had the right suite.
Vortex. What a dumb fucking name.
They were located directly across the street from mine; hard to fucking miss. I would’ve noticed this aggravating intruder before Tiffany brought them to my attention, had I not shut all the blinds this morning to block the sunlight for my hangover.
To my surprise and fortunate luck, the studio just so happened to be empty, along with the doors left unlocked—not a soul in sight. So, being the nosy bitch I am, I entered and gave myself a grand tour of the enemy.
The space was newly renovated and immaculate. The smell of freshly polished hardwood floors and paint assaulted my senses upon entry. Every room was equipped with long ballet bars, pristine mirrored walls, and a state-of-the-art sound system.
Whoever established this place had money... Where my initial setup was slowly improving as I cycled my profits throughout the years, they were kicking things off like they were fucking Juilliard. This owner had everything—
“Ahem.” A rough throat cleared from behind me, and I rolled my eyes, knowing full well that I’d been caught by the owner; most likely ready to kick my ass out for trespassing—or whatever fucking excuse they could use to make me look bad, even though they brought this upon themselves.
With all the confidence in the universe, I pivoted on the spot, my arms crossed in a dominating stance that stalled the moment my eyes met those of my new rival.
“You?” My gasp morphed into a vicious snarl as my hot-as-fuck, shirtless, one-night stand’s lips curled into a playful smirk. I didn’t know whether to be turned on or furious to find that I’d fucked my own damnation last night.
“Back for round two already, darlin’?” He was so fucking smug.
I should’ve known that pleasure and punishment went hand in hand…
“Who the hell are you and what the fuck kind of game are you playing?” I seethed while attempting to ignore his bare chest, stomach, and…
hips. Good lord, he’s more carved than the statue of David.
My eyes aimlessly wandered down his six-pack before following the deep cut V of muscle that disappeared behind the waistband of his gray sweatpants.
The longer I ogled his gorgeous physique, the harder it’d become to maintain my outward anger, and my pussy was starting to drool for him like a horny dog. Woof, woof…
“You’d already know both of those answers, but if I recall, you were the one who said, and I quote, ‘no names, no back stories’ right before you let me fuck the perfect scream out of that pretty mouth last night.”
“I—you…” I couldn’t find the right words to respond as I crumpled his shitty, overpriced flyer in one hand, my fist shaking with the strain and pent-up aggression—sexual tension? “How fucking dare you—” That came out a little more starved and depraved than I’d wanted… down girl. Fuck.
“Look, I think we’re getting off on the wrong foot here. This doesn’t have to be a fight; a little friendly competition never hurt anyone.”
“Friendly?” He was joking, right? I could barely register the level of sarcasm that passed my lips as the blood rushed to my ears and I forced back my stupid, blind lust. I’ll show you fucking friendly.
Regardless of my undeniable attraction to the man, my first thought wasn’t to let this whole thing slide and mindlessly jump into his arms, begging him to bend me over like a salacious she-wolf… No.
Instead, in an emotionally charged fit of rage, I hurled my shake at him, the lid exploding the second the cup crashed against his hard chest, splattering the contents across his body before falling to the floor.
He didn’t so much as flinch. Didn’t react to what I’d just done. And before he could, I strutted out of his studio with attitude, giving him the cold shoulder and a good look at the ass he’d be kissing later.
Hate fucks were hot, and I was still in line for that second ride, but he was going to have to work for it. Because I didn’t come easy.