by Natalie Wrye
All that ice melts against my palms as I wrap her in closer, my hands running along her back and blouse, eager to explore the skin beneath.
If this were any other night, I might have a little more willpower against the, frankly, too-proper assistant, making mewling noises against my mouth. Might have the strength to fight her off.
But right now, I can’t think about anything but how to get her out of these clothes. How to pull her in closer.
I back up an inch, murmuring against her mouth, feeling unable to let her go for a second. Scared that if I do, the strange trance I’m in that has me kissing her will all of a sudden break.
I bite her bottom lip, and she moans, deepening the trance.
“This is insane,” I say, lowering my hands. “Isn’t it?”
She licks my bottom lip. “On a scale of one to boiling rabbits, it’s up there.”
“Are we both nuts here?”
“We could do for a straight-jacket fitting any day now.”
“Damn…” I mutter, growing unimaginably hard as Naomi’s fingers travel upwards into my hair, pulling, her tiny nails digging into my tingling scalp.
The penthouse buzzer to my apartment buzzes somewhere in the living room, but I hardly hear it.
Pressing Naomi’s soft body backwards, I prepare to lay her on the bed, when she stops me, splaying a hand against my chest.
And there she is. The Naomi I know.
I wait, watching her all the while, the trance inside me holding on for dear life. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she breathes, the word coming out in a rush. She looks towards my open bedroom door where the sound of the buzzer continues to beat into the air. “It’s just…your buzzer… Somebody’s at the door.”
I glance over my shoulder at the open door, the sounds of the buzzer whining right outside of it. I shrug. “I wouldn’t worry about that. Right now, I’ve got more important matters on my mind…”
I lean in to kiss her again when her espresso-like eyes widen. “Wait, no… I mean, I think it might not be such a bad idea…”
I stop. “What? The buzzer? You think I should get it?”
She nods, suddenly looking as meek as I remember her. Her long-lashed chocolate eyes gaze up at me, scanning all over my face.
Her stare is intense, full of unmitigated heat. Teeming with desire.
It’s a desire that, so far, I’ve only gotten a glimpse of, but already I’m ready for more.
I’m ready to make sure she looks at me like that every day of her life. I drop my hand instead, tapping her chin, my voice rougher than moments before. “Are you sure about that? If it’s an emergency, we can wait for 9-1-1. I’m sure everything will be cleared by then. And we’ll be finished doing all the things I’ve been thinking of doing since you got here.”
That part earns me a smile. And it’s well-worth it.
The light is low in my bedroom, but there’s no mistaking the heat vibrating off Naomi’s body. I imagine the heat coming off my body is just as strong.
Every part of me is enflamed, much more so than I ever remember being.
And I realize what the issue is…
I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anyone like I want her, if I ever desired the women I’d bedded in any real way.
For these past nine years, they’d all been passing temptations, a release from the stressful life of sports.
But here, in my bedroom with Naomi, talking and laughing about choking on bananas, I feel completely different.
My thoughts are all over the place, my breathing hot and heavy.
I’m insanely aroused. Conflicted. Full of desire and doubt.
And… I’m nervous.
For fuck’s sake, I’m almost shaking as Naomi timidly peers up at me.
I take a step back, needing the space. Inhaling deeply, I reach towards her, running a finger along her soft jaw. I measure out each word, tasting each as they leave my mouth.
“Join you back here in sixty seconds?”
She nods, and I kiss her, suppressing the slight shake in my limbs. She says nothing, eyes saucer-like as I stalk backwards.
I don’t stop until I reach the bedroom door.
“Fuck it. Make it thirty seconds. And if it’s a fire, I’m sure we’ll feel the heat from the apartment below if we’re in any real danger.”
I turn just as her bottom lips falls.
I’ve crossed a lot of lines in my life. This is a new one.
I push one finger along the button at the buzzer, ready for anything. I should have known it would be Stephan and Emily.
Shit. I forgot about meeting them. Kissing Naomi was a bit of a distraction.
A welcome one.
I buzz back, letting them know I’m busy, cutting the call.
Practically skipping back to my bedroom, I’m not surprised when I find it empty. But a few minutes later, when there’s still no sign of Naomi, my eager libido spilling all over, I panic, jumping up from the bed.
The jump turns into a march as I head out of the bedroom.
And within a minute or two, I find Naomi gone. No trace of the tantalizing brunette. As if she were never here.
I realize she must have snuck out my the back door of my penthouse. Slipped into the private elevator.
The trance I’d had earlier is finally broken, pushed out by the sinking feeling in my stomach. My mind is nowhere near being back on tomorrow’s training session. And I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to do about keeping a story straight to Stephan and Emily.
So much for not violating the hell out of my pact.
Chapter 14
NAOMI
Saturday morning
The next morning’s no better than the night before.
My rest was sleepless, fraught with memories I’d rather forget.
After calling a driver to take me home from Sawyer’s penthouse at an hour so early it should be illegal, I spent forever lying in bed, staring at the stack of romance movies in the corner, trying to come up with a plan to get out of this no-sex pact.
Wishing my life were more like a Julia Roberts movie instead of the horror one I’m currently in, I make awkward attempts to scrub the image of Sawyer standing there, eyes filled with fury and sadness as we faced off in his empty bedroom out of mind, and even though I’m blind as a bat in bed without my glasses on, I somehow manage to picture him perfectly the second I wake up in my slightly sweaty sheets, squinting at a new morning’s light outside my rainy window.
The sun’s barely out, hidden behind a ring of dark clouds. But even the gloomy weather and my half-closed eyelids can’t keep the thoughts of the bad boy baseball player at bay.
My phone buzzes for the twentieth time on the nightstand, warning me of another message to come. Eager to focus on anything besides Sawyer and this damned pact of ours, I grab for my glasses, shoving them on, only to stare at a phone screen covered in angry gray squares.
To my surprise, my little brother Diego’s are the first. I start reading.
Diego:
Sis u gotta stop txtg me so much
I’m gucci. I’m 13. THIR-TEEN. Remember?
Simon’s mom is gonna take us to the park to play some ⚾-ball. Won’t be home till later
And yea I kno u won’t believe me but u can call her if u want. Jst don’t do it 15 times…
I kno u
ILY anyways
Btw…U need a bf. U have way 2 much time on your hands
