She lingers and eyes the tattooed, shirtless, and lean but muscular ballet dancer next to me. He rests against the bathroom door. “I’m Beckett.” He nods in greeting. “I’d shake your hand, but…” He hoists his cuffed wrist and tries not to jerk mine. Jo’s brows rise. “Kinky.” He speaks calmly. “If it were kinky, I’d be enjoying it more.”
