by Natalie Wrye
Even now, as he helps me up, those green eyes are smiling as he helps me to my feet outside of the FitTheory’s men’s locker room, and without thinking, I clutch the hardcover notebook I always carry in my hands to my chest like a silly schoolgirl, barely breathing as I squeeze the material into my hardening nipples.
Sevin’s eyes widen. “Nome, shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to almost kill you…”
I swing a hand through my hair. “It’s okay. It’s fine, really. I think I deserved that,” I mutter under my breath, still holding onto his hand. “I’ve been super clumsy these days anyway.”
“I was just talking about you with Saw.” His dark brows lower. “What are you doing here? I was worried. I called you like ten times today.”
“Yeah, I know,” I shake my head, resisting the urge to touch my glasses. “I, uh, was pretty wiped after last night. But I saw your text and I appreciate you giving me the next few days off, Sev. I mean it. I definitely think I’m going to need them.”
“I can’t imagine,” he says, snorting. “Look, those assholes who fought with Chris and Sawyer are behind bars, so I don’t want you worrying. And hey, the next time you decide to try tequila, you might want to share drinks with someone a little more amateur. I’m sure Chris had you on the strongest brands we have.”
“Oh, no, he was fine. I’m fine, now… I think?”
“You sure? You still look a little green.”
I nod, grinning, the forced expression threatening to stretch the spectacles on my face it’s so wide. “Guess I’m just surprised you could recognize my face, seeing as how the only thing you might have seen just now was the bottom of my feet.”
He winces. “Oh, yeah, you did fall hella hard. You’re okay, though, right?” He holds out his hands. “No permanent damage?”
Not unless you count the irreversible strain done to my conscience because of my lies. “Just to my pride. But trust me: It’s been through a hell of a lot worse.”
“Well, if you’re sure.” He motions to the locker room behind him. “You, uh, looking for anyone in particular?”
Oh yeah, that’s right. I’m here to meet Sawyer. Your best friend.
Because we’ve got this secret sex pact. You know, where he teaches me how to actually have it, and I teach him how to have mating habits that are a little less Homo Habilis and more modern man.
Focus, Naomi.
Focus. He just asked you a question.
I nod. “Yup, that’s right.” I gesture to his chest, pointing. “You. Because, um, I found out you were going to be here, and I wanted to make sure you have everything for your flight. Because that’s what good personal assistants do, right?”
“No kidding?” Those unbelievable green eyes go wide. Sporting slightly wet dark hair and an inquisitive smile, Sevin saunters over, gripping me in a bear hug hard enough to take my breath.
I yelp. “Jesus, Sevin, I’d like to keep my lungs if you don’t mind. I might need those in the future and right now, you’re crushing them…”
“Whoops, my bad.” He grips his gym bag over his shoulder, his green eyes sparkling. “Just…wanted to show my thanks for you having my back out here. I gotta admit: I was worried about going on a flight without you coming.” His eyes narrow. “Are you sure you’re alright? Usually a hug like that from me would earn a few expletives. Maybe even an ‘asshole’ for good measure.”
“I can still can call you an ‘asshole’ right now, if you’d like. It’s not too late.”
“No thanks,” he says, laughing. “I’d like to hold onto this good feeling for the next couple of hours or so. At least until I land in New York and have to see Charlie’s mom.” He rolls his eyes, broad shoulders shrugging.
And I feel worse than ever before.
I spent all morning baking new batches of pastelitos, perfecting my technique. And all afternoon, I’d been planning and plotting in my little notebook to go over my plans with Sawyer…forgetting that, as a personal assistant, I was being paid to make plans for someone else.
The man standing in front of me without a clue of what I’m doing.
He pats the bag on his shoulder, his eyes alight with excitement as I ask him if he has everything needs. His broad shoulders shift.
“You bet your ass, I do.”
“Are you sure, though?” I press. “You got your itinerary?”
“Check.”
“A new toy for Charlie?”
“Double check.”
“A signed photo copy of the Bruisers’ new pitcher?”
He rolls his eyes. “Unfortunately, yes. Why a nine-year old would want an autographed picture from that fresh-out-of-the-womb newb pitcher, I will never understand.”
“Awww.” I pat his shoulder. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re not a girl.”
“Thank God,” he starts, “because if I were…” He stops. “Wait. You think she likes that babyfaced prick because…?”
“You’re going to be late,” I say, glancing down at my phone as I push him on his way. “Have a good flight!”
I interrupt before he can start spiraling over his daughter’s impending puberty. Leaning up on tippy toes, I plant a rare kiss on his cheek before he stumbles away.
“I’ll see you in a few days, Nome. Feel better!”
I want to tell him that’s impossible.
As soon as Sevin leaves, I sag against the wall. All the bricks that guilt has built inside me suddenly weigh a ton, and I hate myself—literally hate myself—for lying to him.
For being so fucking selfish I can’t see straight.
It’s been so long since I’ve thought of my own needs and wants. But I had responsibilities.
Big, huge, glaring responsibilities.
My job, of course, and then my little brother stuck with my wayward aunt in Miami.
Luckily, the fool I’ve been all morning has a chance to make it right when my phone rings. It’s Sevin’s custom ringtone, and with a fast shuffle of the items in my hands, I slip my cell out of my back jeans pocket without thinking, answering immediately.
“What did you forget?”
“Ha. You already knew. Damn. What would I do without you, Nome? It’s that goddamned picture of that bed-wetter that Charlie asked for. It’s still in my gym locker. Nome…”
“Already on it. Just give me the number of the locker, and I’ll have it sent to you first class by the time you land in New York.”
“You’re the best.”
“I’ll remind you of that as often as I can…asshole,” I add, laughing softy into the speaker.
“You’re on.” He cuts the call just as quickly as he started it and with braced shoulders, I slip the notebook and pen into to my leather shoulder bag, walking forward.
My eyesight wafts through the still-hanging steam as I enter the FitTheory locker room praying that no one else is inside. They shouldn’t be.
The gym is exclusive. And small.
With a curt “Hello?” and a quick knock, I head inside, my ballet flat-covered feet barely making a sound.
The air is heavy, damp and saturated with the smell of soap and musk and man. The coast seems clear, so I keep walking, letting myself be swallowed by thickening fog of past showers.
It’s a bit surreal. Being in here.
I’d often imagined what it would be like to be in a men’s locker room, pumped chock full of testosterone.
But I’d always been too chickenshit to take a peek.
Like everything else in my life, I’d put my sexuality on the back burner. There was no one to teach these sorts of lessons when Mom was gone.
My Aunt Sandra was too busy hopping from man to man to be of any help, and as a Hello Kitty-collecting freak in high school, I hadn’t had many friends to have the conversation with.
I was so sexually wound up that all of my base desires and lusting had landed on one of the men closest to me…
My boss’s best friend.
Sawyer was a walking beacon of manhood when I’d
signed on as Sevin’s assistant. A cocky asshole with more hormones than sense, he’d barely looked my way when we first met.
He hadn’t seen me. No one had.
To them, I was Sevin’s extension. Like an extra arm that no one dared to look at.
Sevin’s desires came first. But it didn’t stop me from imagining what it would be like if they didn’t.
If I could pursue my own desires. A catering business with a side of sex to go with it.
Even now, as I head towards Sevin’s locker in the still thick fog, I can image Sawyer—the object of my unreturned attraction, emerging from the showers in not much more than a towel and a light layer of shower steam. Riveluts of water—remnants of a quick sham shower—would drip down the length of his long neck, carving a path along his muscled back and ass.
An ass perfectly sculpted by years of crouching, running, throwing, squatting over a baseball diamond’s dark, gritty sand.
For a woman who wasn’t having sex, I could daydream with the best of the sexually active.
The locker room grows hotter around me as I lose myself in naughty visions of Sawyer.
Turning a final corner where the numbers grow closer and closer to Sevin’s locker, I start moving faster, willing my feet to walk quicker before I spontaneously combust.
Only they don’t move so fast. Because someone stops them.
A man turns the corner just a few feet away from me, heading in my direction. I’d scream and turn, but he’s too close to do anything.
In nothing but a pair of gray sweats, he bridges the gap between us fast, his long legs crossing the distance almost instantly. My heart leaps into my throat as I back away, slamming into a locker.
For a few seconds, I see stars. Especially when the man holds a hand to my face, squelching whatever scream might come out.
So much for daydreams.
Maybe if I hadn’t been enveloped in mine, I might not have walked into a nightmare.
I yell, muffled cries leaving my mouth anyway. Kicking for the no-no place, I lash a foot out hoping to hit a pair of balls with them until the stranger dodges the quick move, his familiar voice washing over me in waves.
“You see… I told Sevin you could take care of yourself.”
I see nothing but his smile amidst the thick fog.
Chapter 12
NAOMI
“Sawyer. Are you freaking nuts? I almost killed you.”
I glance over his larger form, my eyes scanning his hulking figure amongst the steam, trying to make out details.
Half dressed, a t-shirt thrown across his arm, the baseball player I’ve grown to know over the last two years is bigger than I remember from this vantage point. Shoulders straight, stance steady, he does nothing, standing there, feet planted hip-length apart as his head tilts towards me.
My eyes finally adjusting to the fog, I make out the slightly curled strands of dirty-gold hair falling just below his chin as he swipes a hand roughly through them, his body sturdy and seemingly brick-made as he reaches another hand out.
His voice is a laugh. “Whoa there, cowgirl. Take your time. You almost made me infertile with that quick kick.”
“You grabbed me like a madman in the middle of an empty men’s locker room. Can you blame me?”
“For nearly taking out the boys?” He gestures downwards. “First dating lesson from your coach: When you do start seeing a man who, you know, isn’t me…be sure not to make him a case study for sterilization.”
“I’ll think about it,” I growl, glancing over my shoulder. “What the hell are you doing in here anyway?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Was it my mistake or were we supposed to meet here like we agreed on last night?”
“I know,” I retort, huffing out a breath. “But you’re early. And Sevin was here.”
“Oh, I’m well aware of that. He actually showed up to the gym today right after the game. A pure freak that man is. No matter how good he is at the game, he’s always trying to get better.”
“Unlike someone we both know,” I let my eyes twirl, a laugh escaping from my lips when Sawyer steps back in shock, his big blue eyes wide. He touches his naked chest.
“Okay, you are going to have to stop taking swipes at me, or I promise I am not going to be your sexual guru.”
“Dating guru,” I correct again. “And I’m not even supposed to be in here,” I hiss. “I’m supposed to be getting a signed photo for Sevin and sending it to him so he gets it when he lands in New York.”
“The post office is still open,” Sawyer remarks, frowning. “And unless operations are closing in the next twenty minutes, then I think we have enough time to take our meeting…” He pauses. “Don’t you?”
He’s right. But I’m absolutely positive I don’t want to do it here.
I adjust the shoulders of my blouse, turning quickly on my heel. “You’re right. We have time. Reach into that locker behind you and grab the photo I mentioned. I’ll meet you outside.”
But there he goes. Grabbing my wrist again.
I spin on my heel, heading for the locker room door, but not before Sawyer snatches the small limb, pulling me back.
His dark cobalt gaze is serious, sending a quick pulse between my legs. I stop.
“Okay, are you playing the madman again, or are you being for real?”
“We could do the meeting right here.”
I scoff. “Why the hell would we do that?”
“Because it makes you so uncomfortable. And we’re going to need that. And seeing how I just mentioned lesson number one and its unpleasant sterilization consequences, let’s move along to lesson number two, shall we?” He moves closer. “Do the things that make you uncomfortable. The more you get used to not being at ease, the better. That’ll make you more liable to take chances, more willing to date people outside of your box. Comprende?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Señor. Anything else?”
“Lesson number three…”
“Yeah?” I say, as he leans in, smelling of his soap, his short beard nearly tickling above my hairline.
I nearly close my eyes as he lifts his hand to my face, brushing them over my cheekbone. He wipes a thumb across my steam-smudged glasses, swiping them clean.
“Lose the armor.”
My lips press into a thin line as he drops his hand. “What armor?”
“That,” he motions. “The armor you usually wear. The glasses. The oversized blouses. The formless jeans. They’re armor.”
“I didn’t know there were metal plates hidden underneath. My mistake.”
“You know what I mean, kitty…” His heavy-lidded eyes glow. “You hide behind these. Not that you can’t wear them, but it’s your way of trying to fade into the background.” He takes off my glasses, sliding them slowly from my ears and nose, his fingers careful. “Stop hiding your face. It’s beautiful.”
I swallow, hoping he can’t hear it, my heart thumping in my ears like drums.
I watch Sawyer sigh, pointing to a nearby bench.
“So shall we?”
“Are you sure we won’t be expecting any, uh, guests or anyone else?”
“Well, we are in an obscure part of the locker room. But who knows?” He waggles his golden brown eyebrows. “Makes it interesting, though, doesn’t it?”
“I’m laughing on the inside.”
I sit and Sawyer sits beside me, still shirtless, and just as gorgeous as ever. He grins in my direction.
“Okay, I’ll start. So, first things first...”
His body turns stiff, freezing the second I open my notebook, pen poised to start taking notes.
“What?” I glance over.
“You can’t be serious.”
“If I’m going to learn how to get good at this dating and sex stuff, I’m going to have to take this seriously.”
“Seriously as in ‘writing what I say’?”
I lift my gaze. “You scared I’m going to quote you, Professor?”
“No, I’m just re
alizing that maybe I should have brought my whiteboard. Trust me…” He extends a hand, taking my pen. “This is going to be more of an interactive class.”
“Interactive?”
“Yup,” he nods, getting to his feet again. “Starting right now.”
I stand, too. “Fine, but before we begin: Any other confiscated items I forgot to retrieve back at your apartment? Or should I get in them in detention, Mr. Kennedy?”
He smiles, taking a step back, sliding the draped shirt back over his shoulders, letting it fall over his frame as he puts it on.
Jesus, he’s built.
Even semi-blind, I can see that. I rock on my heels.
“So, what’s the ‘first thing first’?”
H doesn’t blink. “Blow-jobs.”
My jaw goes slack. “You can’t be serious.”
“In the infamous words of Naomi Silva, I’ll be ‘un-serious’ then.” He smirks. “Key to a healthy sexual life… And dating life is to make sure the person you’re seeing is deeply invested in your pleasure. And the easiest way to do that is to ensure theirs. Come on,” he gestures, “I’ll show you.”
My eyebrows reach for the sky, brushing somewhere near the ceiling, I’m sure. “Show me how to give a blow job?”
“Yeah.” He backs up, casual in his thin t-shirt and sweats, caramel-colored hair spilling over his face as if he’s said the most natural words in the world. “And since we can’t touch… I’d like to introduce you to Miss Invisible here.” He waves at nothing, eyes alight with humor.
“Miss Invisible?”
“Our stand-in for the lesson.” He leans his back against the locker room, looking over as a clank from a far corner catches his attention. “Now, stay focused. Miss Invisibile here,” he points to the tile beneath our feet, “will be our guide today. She’s a fan of movies and likes long walks in the park. She believes the perfect date is April fifteenth because it’s not too hot and not too cold. All you need is a light jacket…”
A smile finds a path to my lips, staying there like glue. I hold up a hand to hide my laugh. “You can’t expect me to be serious while you’re quoting Miss Congeniality.”
