by Tessa Layne
“I will go without sex as long as it takes wipe that superior looking expression off your face.”
My insult misses the mark, because she snickers and grins broadly. “One. Year.”
Motherfucker.
I swallow and keep my face carefully neutral. I haven’t gone without sex for more than a few weeks since I lost my virginity to Lara Niedermeyer when I was seventeen.
“Still think you can do it?” she taunts.
I’ll be damned if I let Sparky get the better of me. “Fuck, yes. In fact, if I can’t, I’ll quadruple the money in your bank account. Hell, I’ll make it a million.” How hard can it be, really? I have enough zeroes in my bank account that I won’t miss a mil, not that I plan on letting her best me.
“That’s big talk from a guy with your reputation.”
“And what exactly is my reputation? What did you call me last night? A pussy magnet?”
Her cheeks flush deep red. “Well, you are,” she mutters, dropping her eyes.
I lean forward. So close I can smell last night’s soap on her skin. “And with good reason,” I say, voice dropping to seductive levels as a very wicked thought enters my head. “And when I win this stupid wager, you’re going to give me something in return.”
“And what is that?” she asks a little breathlessly.
“One. Night.”
Chapter Nine
From the texts of Mariah Sanchez and her sister
Mariah: Sooo… I think I made a pass at Steele last night…
Cecilia: WHAT?!?!?!?
Mariah: shrug emoji, facepalm emoji, crazy face emoji
Cecilia: Are you fucking kidding me?
Mariah: grimacing emoji
Cecilia: wtf happened? I WANT TEA
Mariah: I started drinking with the Spanish team…
Mariah: … And it’s fuzzy after that. Except I woke up in Harrison’s arms, wearing nothing but his robe.
Cecilia: O_O
Cecilia: Did you finally do the deed with the Man of Steel??!?!?
Mariah: I don’t think so…
Cecilia: You don’t think so?!? That was a y/n question.
Mariah: I know… but I don’t remember. grimace emoji, facepalm emoji, head exploding emoji
Cecilia: Jesus.
Mariah: Don’t let mom catch you swearing in text form.
Cecilia: I’ll fucking swear if I want to.
Mariah: lol
Cecilia: you’re distracting
Mariah: ya think?
Cecilia: Why? What else is there?
Mariah: Well aside from the fact that I’m pretty sure I puked over both of us, I got into an argument with his hotness.
Cecilia: OH? Chin on hands…
Mariah: It’s too much to go over in text form, and we’re just about to board the plane, but I might have goaded him into staying celibate for a year….
Mariah: And then he goaded me into agreeing to a one-night stand if he does it.
Cecilia: ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?!?!?!?!?
Mariah: Apparently. But there’s no way he’ll last a whole year. This is Harrison we’re talking about.
Cecilia: DETAILS. I WANT DETAILS.
Mariah: Can’t. They just called our section. I’ll call when I get home. Luv U - kissing emoji, heart eyes emoji.
From the perspective of Steele’s dick
Day 10 of enforced celibacy
* * *
What. The. Fuck?
Seriously.
What the fuck kind of game is the dumbass upstairs playing? I have needs, man.
Chapter Ten
From the perspective of Steele’s dick
Day 22 of enforced celibacy
* * *
I hate him. Fucking hate him.
The redhead at the bar? Total prospect. And she’s staring at us.
She’s coming over, but he fucking cuts me off. Who the fuck thinks of hairy backs and armpit hair when there’s a beautiful woman making a pass at us? Jesus fucktits.
Noooooo.
* * *
I’ll be in my bunk.
Chapter Eleven
Day 23
* * *
Sparky catches my eye and smirks as she settles herself on the cox box. “Rough night last night?”
I grunt and check my grip. She knows exactly how rough it was.
She chuckles quietly. “I think you need to up your workouts. Add more bicep curls?”
I glare at her.
She tsks and shakes her head, adjusting her headset. “Nothing stopping you from getting laid, Steele.”
Except our fucking wager.
She turns on the mic. “Let’s go. An easy five-hundred to warm up.” Her eyes sparkle as they meet mine. “Ready, stroke?”
I pull too hard, eliciting grumbles from the stern.
“Easy there, Tex,” Sparky chastises. I exhale roughly and force my roiling emotions to the bottom of the boat. “On my count. Ten… nine… eight…”
I let the sound of her voice lull me into the mental space where I become a pulling machine, blunting the razor sharp edges of my anger, and narrowing my focus to the rhythm of breath, push with the legs, lean back, pull with the arms, lift, feather, reach, repeat. There’s a mind-numbing comfort in the repetition, the familiar ache that enters my muscles as we glide to the middle of the lake.
“Way enough,” Sparky calls. “Let’s review the race plan.”
Tomorrow afternoon, we fly to Oregon for another race. We know the score. We’ve done this hundreds of times, and it’s part of what makes Sparky great at what she does. Quiet descends on us as we shut our eyes and concentrate on the story Sparky weaves.
“Two warm-up laps, taking it nice and easy, until we line up in lucky lane three with the covered bridge at my back.”
I don’t know why we like lane three, but we do. And we always seem to pull better in that position. Some teams like the outside, we like the middle.
“There’s only a light breeze, and there’s just enough cloud cover, we lose the glare on the water. The starting gun fires, and we pull away, a nice slow twenty-five.”
This is the same tactic we employed in London, a slow start, picking up the pace every hundred meters until we’re five-hundred from the end, and then an all out sprint. Sparky leads us through every transition in perfect detail, down to the level of chop on the water. I shut my eyes, trying to stay focused on her words, but my thoughts keep drifting back to her mouth, and the way it twitches at the corner when she’s amused, like she’s trying not to smile.
“Steele? Steele,” she hisses, fingers covering her mic. “Are you ready?”
“Of course,” I answer, wondering what the hell I missed while my mind was wandering.
“Did you even hear what I said?”
“Of course.”
Stockton snickers behind me. “Bullshit,” he coughs, then clears his throat. “She asked when was the last time you’d been given a BJ.”
My eyes snap to Sparky. Her mouth twitches in a way that says she knows exactly when the last time I had any anything. But it does give me an idea. She didn’t say anything about fooling around. Only sex. My dick gives a fist pump. Hell, yeah. I’m getting something tonight, even if it’s not sex. My mood lightens considerably. In fact, when I leave the office with Stockton and Owen and head over to Danny’s Whiskey Den, there’s a spring in my step and I’m fully on the prowl…
Until prospect number one leaves me cold.
Stockton cocks his head. “You feeling all right, man? You haven’t been yourself lately.”
I’m not about to explain why. I shrug it off and signal for another round. “Any more headway made on where you think the cyber attacks are coming from?”
“Penny’s on it, and I’m heading back to help her before I go home to pack,” Stockton answers, raising a skeptical eyebrow. My answer didn’t fool him in the least. But I’m at least grateful that he and his assistant Penny-the-Wonder-Hacker are on it. This is the third time we’ve be
en hit this month. Whoever they are, they’re trying to probe our vulnerabilities, and I aim to stay six steps ahead of them.
Owen, my CFO, isn’t as easily dissuaded, and after Stockton takes his leave, he turns to me. “I’ve never seen you turn down a woman, and in the last month I’ve seen you turn down, what…” he counts on his fingers. “Ten?”
I flash him a tight smile. “I’m taking a break. That’s all.”
“What in the hell for?”
“Why in the hell not?”
“Because you’re… well, you.”
I get his implication. As a team, we’ve agreed to never speak of the night. Sparky would die if she knew how out of hand she’d been that night in London, and we don’t want to risk the havoc it would create in the boat by losing her. She’s one of a kind. I lose myself in the memory of her voice earlier today. It’s always on the husky side from yelling at us. But something hooked deep inside me this afternoon as she was calling strokes. I pulled for her, just like I always do. But this time I had to shut my eyes, because all I could see was her pushed up against a wall, legs wrapped around me as she called stroke into my ear while I filled her with my cock. When I opened my eyes, her eyes were locked on me like a laser beam. I swear I saw the electricity jump between us, and there’s no way I can tell that to Stockton or Owen, or anyone else in the boat. They’d skin me alive.
For a split second, I consider going to confession. But then prospect number two sits down next to us. Owen flirts with her briefly, but it’s clear I’m the one she’s after. She’s a stunner. Long black hair cascading down her back, wide hazel eyes, and the legs of a dancer. Legs that at any other time, I would take back to my apartment and wrap around my neck. But something’s definitely wrong with my Johnson because she leaves me cold.
Owen arches a brow and throws me a lifeline. “We’d love to stay and chat, but duty calls,” he rises with an easy grin. “Catch you another time?”
It’s not until we’re halfway back to the office that he stops in the middle of the sidewalk. “You’re full of shit if you tell me this isn’t about a woman.”
I open my hands. “To be honest, I don’t know what it is.”
And then it hits me like the streetcar flattening a penny. I want Sparky.
Chapter Twelve
I’m not at all happy about this development. In fact, as soon as I get home, I put on my running shoes and sprint a 10k. It does nothing to erase the taste of desire from my mouth. To make matters worse, my splits are so fast, that I want to call Sparky. I’d never call the guys to brag about a split time, but Sparky totally gets why it’s a big deal. The faster I run, the faster the entire boat pulls. I’m the human fucking metronome. If I drive the pace, they’ll follow. I’m so pumped, I want to hit the gym, even though it’s well past ten. The secret to rowing is both insane cardio and forcing your lactic acid laden muscles to perform, even when they have nothing left.
I pace the lobby of my penthouse for a full minute before I abandon the idea of the gym. We’re supposed to rest so we’re fresh for Saturday’s Covered Bridge race in Oregon, but I have too much energy. I circle my apartment like a caged lion, thumb twitching. After a beer and three more circles through my empty rooms, I give in.
I text Sparky.
* * *
HS: Hey…
Not the best opener I could have come up with, but it’s late, and clearly I’m out of my mind.
* * *
MS: …
MS:
MS: …
MS:
* * *
“Fucking say something already,” I mutter, watching the dots appear and disappear.
* * *
MS: Is everything okay?
* * *
“No. Everything is not okay,” I bite. Figures she would ask that. I’ve never texted her for any reason other than to confirm workouts and practices. But how in the hell am I supposed to tell her that? My thumbs spell out a quick reply.
* * *
HS: Yup. Fine.
* * *
This is awkward as fuck. Before I can stop myself, I ring her.
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” her husky voice sends a ripple of arousal down my spine.
I clear my throat. “Yeah. Yeah. I ran a thirty-four 10k.” I can’t help the smile that spreads my mouth, or the pride that creeps into my voice.
“Just now? At ten-forty-two when you’re supposed to be sleeping?”
“You’re not sleeping.”
“I’m also not running. And the only thing I need to rest is my voice.”
“I’d hate for it to lose that sexy scratch,” I blurt before I can censor myself. I catch a quick intake of breath before the silence stretches between us. Fuuuuuuck. I should have stuck to texting. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” My gut clenches in the silence. I’m a fucking idiot. Reason number 678 why I don’t do relationships.
Then she laughs. A throaty, rich sound that sends ripples of awareness shooting through my midsection. “Have you been drinking?”
I scoff. “No.”
“Then it must be your dick talking.” Her voice turns sympathetic. “Are you having trouble being celibate?” she teases with a giggle.
Of course I am. My balls are so blue they’re violet. But I’d die before I admit that to Sparky.
“You can give it up, you know.”
“So I can lose a cool mil? I don’t think so.”
She laughs again, more softly this time. “It’d be the easiest mil I ever made.”
“I bet. And what would you do with said mil?”
“I’d go back to school and get my PhD.”
I’m surprised by her answer. For starters, she answers so quickly, I know it’s something she’s thought about. A lot. I’ve never once considered Sparky might be interested in academics. It never occurred to me to ask. She’s always been a female jock we work out with, row with, and drink with. I don’t like the tight feeling that spreads across my chest. What I know about the guys in the boat could fill a library. That’s just the way it is. The boat works because our trust runs deeper than professional respect. They’re my brothers. But what I know about Sparky could fill a thimble. Guilt nags at me. Obviously she’s confided in some of the other guys, but not me. That nags at me too. “PhD, huh? What would you study?” I keep my voice light.
“Sixteenth-century Spanish literature.”
“Whoa. Is that even a thing?”
“Of course it is,” she answers sharply.
“Sorry,” I rush. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”
“Oh it’s fine.” I hear the disappointment in her voice. “I know it’s not very practical. It’s just something I love,” she finishes softly.
“Then you should do it.”
“Yeah. Maybe someday.” Her tone of voice says loud and clear she thinks someday will never come.
“Why not now?”
“Because not all of us have bank accounts with gazillions of zeroes at the end,” she scoffs. “I need to eat. And I love being in the boat,” she adds after a pause.
“Ahh, so you can’t serve two mistresses.” I get that. I missed my shot at the Olympics by inches. And while I still dream about what might have been, I love making millions more. Nothing compares to the rush of closing a deal, not even an Olympic medal.
“There’s no age limit on knowledge. I’ll go back to school when I retire.”
I hate that she puts it that way, but I know what she means. “But that’s a long way off.”
“It is,” she agrees slowly. “But what’s not a long way off is our flight tomorrow.” She yawns into the phone. “Go to sleep, Steele.”
“Did you just fake a yawn to get me off the phone?” I’m sixty-eight-percent sure she did.
Her breathy laugh sends ripples down my spine. “Maybe.”
My dick snaps to attention. “You wouldn’t fake anything else, would you?” I can’t help but ask, because again, a picture of her in the throes of e
cstasy hovers at the edge of my mind.
She snorts. “That’s for me to know and for you never to find out. But for the record,” she continues after an awkward silence. “I never fake anything.”
I go to sleep with the picture of her face firmly entrenched in my mind.
Chapter Thirteen
From the perspective of Steele’s dick
Let me tell you why rowers make the best lovers. Sta-mi-na. Rowers don’t flame out. We’re used to stroking with burning lungs, using every aching muscle in our body to propel the boat forward. Sex is a cakewalk. You want it hard and fast? I’m your man. You want it slow and sweet? I’ll rock you all night long.
Chapter Fourteen
“On my count,” Owen calls, swinging Sparky’s ankles. “One, two, three.” We let go and Sparky flies into the water with a squeal. I remain on the deck while Owen, Stockton, and Mac follow her in. It’s tradition to dunk the cox after a win, and normally I’d be right there in the water with the rest of my teammates, but something’s subtly shifted between me and Sparky, and now our glances are loaded with something else. Something more than the general camaraderie we’ve enjoyed until now. I’m afraid if I touch her, I’ll be found out. One of the guys is sure to notice. In fact, from the way Stockton eyes me, I’m sure he’s noticed. I look away, hoping like fuck he won’t bring this up later when we have celebratory beers.
“Here,” I say gruffly, handing Sparky a towel and demanding my dick stand down when I glimpse her nipples pushing against her wet uni.
