her eyes, that's where I go when I go home.
Before she even opened her eyes she knew things were different. She could feel the tightness in her muscles, and the energy seeping out of her body. She sat up on the bed she had slept in and winced at the creaking of her joints. As Jordan Staal’s arm fell from her waist so did the sheets, revealing large purple spots on her hips and thighs. He fingers trailed lightly over the bruises but her face showed no sign of surprise. She hated that she was fragile. She laid back down and stretched, arms above her head, and she heard a deep, throaty chuckle.
“Feeling quite pleased with yourself, are you?” Mason O’Rear muttered a quick “Mhmm” before she felt his lips burning her skin as they trailed from her collar bone to her jaw. Jordan shifted his weight so that he was above her and the familiar thrill went through her stomach.
“You’re so beautiful, Mason.” He whispered before kissing her nose softly. They laid in bed, tangled in each other’s arms for an immeasurable amount of time. As the sun started to set, Jordan started to get antsy. He wanted to do number three on his list. So without a word, he got out of bed and started to get dressed, a very confused Mason following suit.
* * *
Anyone who knew Jordan Staal knew that when he was set his mind to do something, it would be done. Which is why Mason O’Rear, who barely knew Jordan, didn’t think much of his driving through the crowded city. She didn’t think much of his parking on the street in front of a white marble-looking high rise, and she didn’t think much of him practically pulling her up the stairs inside the building. But the moment he came to a stop in front of a large set of double doors she understood why he had been so excited about today.
Jordan had dragged her to a dance studio. To say she was annoyed was an understatement. Mason spent almost six hours a day dancing, something that Jordan was all too aware of, and having him drag her to another studio during their rare time together was almost a slap in the face. Jordan must have noticed her reluctance to step foot through the doors because he turned towards her, placing his hands on her waist and leaned down to capture her lips with his. And all her annoyance just evaporated.
After a moment, he broke the kiss and reached to intertwine their fingers. She reached forward and put her hand flat against the cold, dark wood and pushed the heavy door open. The room she walked into took her breath away. It was a spacious room with light hardwood floors and French windows covering the walls that seemed to ascend into the heavens.
An older woman with a high grey streaked bun walked towards the couple and stuck out her hand.
“Hello. I’m Paulina. I’m your Tango instructor.” She shook Jordan’s hand, and he could have sworn he heard Mason squeal with excitement.
* * *
Three hours. It took three hours for Jordan Staal to discover that he possessed some sort of grace off the ice. Three hours of Paulina teasing him and three hours of Mason giggling before he could do the moves correctly. But when he finally could, Mason almost struggled to keep up.
The two moved in sync with each other, breath intermingling, eyes locked. His hand ran down her back to pin her hips to his, and her upper body arched back, creating the perfect picture. And when they were face to face again, Jordan let go of her body, took her face in his hands, and kissed her with all the passion he could muster.
* * *
Number three on Jordan’s list was a success, that much Mason would admit. Maybe not in so many words, but it was evident in the way she took his hand first as they walked out of the studio.
Number three was a success.
And number four would be even better.