Doggie Style

by Piper Rayne

  “So?” he asks.

  I place my now empty coffee cup in the sand. “So.”

  “Let’s grab the wetsuit.” He bites his bottom lip as though he knows it’s a stretch.

  “If I try surfing, what are you going to do for me?”

  A teasing smile plays on his lips. “Name it.”

  “You try something I enjoy doing.”

  “All right, I’m always game.” He holds out his hand to help me up. “Deal.”

  I think about it for a second, judging all the things that could go wrong. I could look like an idiot, or be knocked over by a wave and have the surfboard hit my head and then I’d pass out and drown. Or I could slip off the surfboard and hurt myself.

  I take in Leo’s trustworthy face and though all of those things could happen, for some reason I feel safe with Leo, taken care of. “Okay, but no making fun of me.”

  He hoists me up from the sand with what seems like no real effort on his part and I fall into his chest.

  “I guess I don’t know my own strength,” he says, his voice trembling an octave lower than usual.

  My hands slide down his chest. Damn, his muscles feel so good.

  Client. Gay. Client. Gay.

  The words flash through my head in bright, bold lettering and I step back, my hands at my sides.

  “Let’s get the wetsuit before I’m completely soaked.” I glance down at my wet shirt from being pressed against him.

  He snickers and avoids the obvious joke.

  I head toward the parking lot.

  “Hold up.” Leo catches up to me. Leo unlocks the vehicle next to his and opens the back, grabbing the wetsuit and holding it out to me. “What are you wearing under that?” His gaze flows down me like a river of lava, leaving a slow burn in its wake.

  “Bra and underwear.”

  A relieved expression crosses his face. “Great. Strip down.” He leans against his Bronco parked next to Vance’s car.

  “Um… no.”

  “Bra and underwear is like a bikini.”

  My forehead crinkles. “Maybe to you, but to me a bra and underwear is intimate.” Even if you’re gay.

  “All right.” He opens his truck door and grabs a large towel and holds it open with both hands in front of me.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “You’re covered, so go ahead and change.”

  I snatch the towel from his arms. “I can do it myself. You go back to the beach.”

  He holds up his hands in the air, walking away, laughing. “Suit yourself.”

  I wait for Leo to take a seat on the concrete ledge and I look on as he gazes out at the ocean, the rising sun reflecting off the natural blond highlights in his hair.

  Wrapping the towel around me, I pull my yoga pants down, stepping out of them. Perfect, I got this. I step into the wetsuit and start to try to pull it up, but Layla must be thinner than me. Of course she is, dimwit—she’s an actress and I doubt she finds herself at the bottom of a tub of Ben & Jerry’s every night.

  Wiggling my hips and stretching the material, I yank up. I almost have it up to my knees when the towel drops. A car honks and a teenager leans out of the car window.

  “How much, baby?” Laughter echoes in the still air until they’re too far away.

  I snatch up the towel, but from the corner of my eye I catch Leo staring over at me.

  “Ready to accept my help yet?” He sounds like he’s trying to hold in a laugh.

  “Fine,” I mutter.

  He jumps down from the concrete stoop and comes over, his hands out for the towel when he stops in front of me. “Unless you wanted to flash all the surfers this morning. I’m sure Vance and Jagger would enjoy the show.”

  I can’t help but notice that his name is missing from that list as I stare at him, sharing none of his amusement. “Just hold the towel and look away.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The fact that I’m standing in my bra and underwear with Leo’s hands inches away from my skin makes my nipples pebble. A tension I’m sure he doesn’t feel pulls me toward him, but I resist the urge and get down to the business of getting the wetsuit on.

  “All done.” I gently pull the towel down and Leo’s gaze finally leaves the ocean and veers back to me.

  “It fits you great.”

  “Can you help me with the zipper?”

  “Definitely. Turn around.” I face Vance’s car and a shiver runs up my spine when his fingers graze my bare skin. “You’re all set. Let’s go have fun.”

  We head down to the beach and Vance and Jagger already have their wetsuits unzipped and exposing the top half of their bodies. Let’s just say it doesn’t suck to be me right now.

  “Ocean’s yours. I gotta get to work.” Jagger picks up his bag from the sand, fishes his keys out and grabs his coffee.

  “Me too. I’m on morning duty today.” Vance catches the keys Leo tosses his way.

  I glance down at the wetsuit.

  “No, use it. Who knows how long it will take me to get Layla to surf again.”

  “I’ll give it to Leo after,” I say.

  Vance smiles and I can see why Layla Andrews would fall for him. “Perfect.”

  “See you two.” Jagger starts trudging through the sand with his bag, coffee, and surfboard.

  “Wait up.” Vance follows behind. “I’m sure you’ll get more teaching than Layla did since all we ended up doing was making out, but just relax out there, Teegan, and enjoy it.”

  As though I needed another reminder that Leo wouldn’t want to make out with me.

  I get it, universe! Got it loud and clear!

  “Let’s start on the sand and then I’ll take you out into the ocean,” Leo says.

  A wan smile forms on my lips. “Great.”

  Twenty minutes of lessons on land and then I’m in the water, lying down on the surfboard with my ass at Leo’s eye level.

  “You ready to go this time?” he asks.

  God bless him, he’s trying to be supportive, but I don’t think I’m cut out for this.

  “The other two waves came in too fast,” I whine.

  “You got this one. I’m going to push you when the wave comes and then you get to your feet, okay?”

  I nod. I can’t believe I’m making a fool of myself, and for what? This isn’t a date and Leo isn’t a guy I need to impress. Not in that way at least.

  The wave comes closer, starting to crest a bit before it reaches us.

  “Go, go, go,” Leo says.

  I paddle for a second and then grip the sides of the board so I can raise my body up and plant my feet on the board. I wobble a bit and when my feet hit the board, I crouch. I’m so excited that I’m actually still on the board that I never stand up.

  “Stand!” he yells and his voice sounds so far away.

  The surfboard turns to the side and the wave hits all wrong and I fall off, whirling around like I’m trapped in a tornado underwater. My body spins, my arms hit sand, and then I’m propelled until my back hits the sand at a speed I wouldn’t have thought possible.

  Two hands grip under my arms and pull me up. Leo’s hand slides down my leg and unhooks the board from my ankle.

  We surface and I gasp for air.

  “I got you. It’s okay,” Leo says in a safe, soothing voice.

  “I…”

  “Don’t talk. I’ll get you to shore.”

  Once he can stand he picks me up like he’s readying to carry me over the threshold and carries me out of the water. When we reach the sand, he lays me down, his blue eyes peering down at me. “How do you feel?” he asks, softly touching my skin.

  “I’m okay, just a little disoriented.” I blink. “Can I sit up?”

  “Yeah.” He sits down behind me with his arms wrapped around my body, leaning me back against him.

  Two other guys bring his board over to us. “She okay?” one of them asks.

  “Yeah, she’ll be all right. Thanks.” Leo says.

  “That
’s how you learn,” the other says and they jog away, grabbing their own boards at the edge of the water before heading back out.

  “I’m sorry,” Leo says, his voice crackling.

  “It’s not your fault.” I inhale another deep breath, thankful that I can actually breathe again.

  “It seems like I keep getting you hurt,” he softly says next to my ear and I close my eyes, loving the feel of his arms around me, his strong chest holding me up.

  Little does Leo know, he’s hurting me because of something completely out of his control.

  9

  Leo

  A week after I almost killed her surfing, Teegan comes into the shop after lunch sporting a huge grin.

  “Did you just see Ryan Gosling or something?” I ask, watching the needle poke through the black fabric on Mrs. Winters’ dog’s bikini.

  Unable to get the smile off her face, she shakes her head. “Better.”

  “Better than Ryan Gosling?” I raise my eyebrows. I thought all women thought there was nothing better than Ryan Gosling. Something to do with that stupid Notebook movie.

  “Yep.” She glances down and takes one giant leap over Cooper and seeks out her usual stool. He perks his head up for a second and then plops it back down. “Polka dots?”

  I continue working the thread through the fabric. “Mrs. Winters loves her polka dots.” The worst part is sewing the appliqués on the clothes because they have to be hand-sewn.

  She makes herself comfortable on the stool next to me, continuing to keep the information quiet that’s making her grin like a cat who’s cornered the mouse.

  “What gives?”

  “Well. I got us a television spot. We have to fly to New York, but this is huge.” She jumps off the stool, brimming with excitement.

  “Television spot?”

  “Yes.” She stands in front of me. “Next week. On Morning Time.” She does a little dance in place and then spins away like a toddler.

  It’s impossible not to grin at her. “Okay.” I tie the thread and cut it from the fabric.

  “Okay?” She stops twirling and dancing around the shop. “Are you not excited? I thought I just earned my pay check with this.” Her shoulders fall as does her smile.

  “You did. It’s great.”

  “Wait.” She holds her hand up. “Is there an ex who works for Morning Time?”

  I chuckle. “No. No exes in New York.”

  Her chest rises and falls and she spins again. “Good. Then be happy and dance with me.” Her arms are extended out and as much as I’d love to feel them wrapped around me, I’m not much of a dancer.

  “I don’t show my happiness with dance moves.” I inspect the bikini one more time before placing it into my signature box, folding purple tissue paper over top.

  “Really?” Her forehead crinkles like a confused pug’s. How any woman can be hot and cute at the same time is beyond me, but Teegan does it all the damn time.

  I stack the boxes for Mrs. Winters and move to the front door, placing the closed sign on the door.

  “You’re closing?”

  “Yep. One of the perks of running your own business.” I lock the door and grab the bag full of Mrs. Winters’ new items.

  “What’re you doing?” Teegan asks, hurrying behind the counter to grab her bag.

  “I’m going to drop this off at Mrs. Winters’ place and then I’m going to work on the summer collection.”

  She places her bag crossways over her body, the strap like a river between her perfectly proportioned tits. I blink and try my best to focus on putting the leash on Cooper.

  “Can I come?”

  “Sure.” I shrug.

  “Well, if I’m interfering…”

  I stop from walking to the back and wait for her to catch up to Coop and me. “No, I’m just surprised you don’t want an afternoon to yourself. You’ve been glued to my side for two weeks now.”

  And you’re making it pretty damn difficult to keep acting like a gentleman.

  She raises one of her shoulders. “I like working with you and I need to find more angles to explore to get you more visibility.”

  “Okay.”

  “Hey, let’s go out and celebrate tonight,” she says. “For getting the show.”

  Why is she suddenly all over wanting to spend time with me? Crap, have I put myself in the friend zone? The way she looks at me sometimes I’d swear she feels this thing between us too, but maybe I’m delusional and the attraction is completely one-sided.

  “I have plans, but you can join us.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to interfere.”

  “You’re more than welcome, Teegan.”

  Her face loses its earlier excitement and she forces a smile. “Nah, you go. We’ll do something tomorrow.”

  “If you’re sure.” I lock up the door and nod toward my truck.

  “You know what? You’re right. I wouldn’t mind an afternoon to myself.” She walks backwards to her car.

  “Really?” Cooper fights against the leash, wanting to follow Teegan. Can’t say I blame him.

  “Yeah, a girl needs some pampering every now and then.” A forced smile crosses her face. “See you later.”

  “Are you all right?” I ask, wondering what I did.

  “I’m fine, but tomorrow, I’m buying you lunch!” She points and then ducks into her car before I can say anything else.

  Teegan’s old car sputters away and my hand rubs up and down Cooper’s back.

  “I have no idea what that one’s thinking,” I mumble, watching her turn into the traffic. The person she cuts off honks their horn at her.

  Then she’s gone. I should’ve cancelled my plans with Oscar tonight, but he threatened to hold up production if I bail on him again.

  I insert the keys and turn them in the ignition. My body is strung way too tight. I press my Bluetooth speaker button. “Call Jagger.”

  The phone rings and Cooper plops down on the seat next to me, drool falling from his lips.

  “How’s the doggie business?” Jagger answers.

  “Meet me at the boxing ring.”

  He laughs and the pen tapping on his desk stops. “That PR chick’s got you wound up tight.”

  “It’s not her.”

  He laughs. “Sure, it isn’t. You’re just as bad as Vance was.”

  “Hell, no. I know not to fuck the hand that’s helping me, but damn, that hand would look mighty good around my cock.”

  He’s silent.

  “Even though it worked out for Vance, I won’t cross the line.” I feel like I’m convincing myself, not Jagger.

  He’s silent still.

  “She’s doing great as my PR rep so far. Nothing good could come of pursuing my interest in her.”

  Finally, Jagger speaks up. “Don’t blame me for not taking the bet on you not fucking your PR rep.”

  As long as I’ve known him, he’s acted like a big brother toward Vance and I—as if it’s his duty or something.

  “So? What about boxing?”

  “Give me forty.”

  “Sounds good.”

  The line dies, and I press the button to end the call. I crack my neck, eager to get all this tension out of my body. Somehow, I’m not sure it’s going to help.

  “Fuck.” My gloved hand covers my stomach again. “This is sparring, jackass.”

  The six-foot-five guy I’ve been stuck in the ring with—since Jagger has yet to show up—seems to think we’re the next Mayweather and McGregor.

  “Sorry,” he mumbles, bouncing from foot to foot.

  “Take it down a notch.”

  He nods a few times and then we approach each other again. I knew I should’ve just done the bags until Jagger’s ass shows up.

  I bob and weave from my opponent’s fists and jab him in the ribcage. It doesn’t faze him because the man must live at this place.

  “You cheating on me, man?” Jagger slides under the ropes. He’s decked out in his black athletic shorts, mouthpiece, and hea
dgear.

  “You’re late,” I say while dodging the guy’s fist.

  My opponent stands there watching us. Jagger’s gaze follows my vision. “You can go now. Thanks for keeping my guy busy until I arrived.”

  I roll my eyes, fighting a smirk. “Thanks a lot.” I place my gloved fist in front of the guy.

  “Anytime.” The big oaf hits the top of my glove and then steps out of the ring.

  Jagger bounces from foot to foot, acting like he’s Rocky before his big fight.

  “Listen. That guy already beat the shit out of me, so let’s keep this easy, okay?”

  “Easy?” He ducks and weaves his head from side to side.

  Remind me why I called him again? “Yeah, easy.”

  “All right, sweetheart. I’ll be gentle. Just the tip.” He winks and then approaches me.

  We spar for a good five minutes, the only sound our grunts and the landing of our hits. Intergalactic by the Beastie Boys blasts through the speakers and Jagger starts messing around, acting more like he’s at the club than in a boxing ring.

  “Stop dancing,” I say, stepping forward and swinging my fist to his cheek.

  He dodges me. “Live a little.”

  I can tell you one thing for sure. I’d rather watch Teegan dance in front of me than this jackass. The way her ass shook and her tits jiggled. It’s been difficult to try to get out of my head. I’m not even sure what I like more about her—her beauty, her personality or her work ethic. The woman is constantly on her computer or her phone, trying to make things happen. I’m pretty sure I’m her only client.

  “Stop thinking about the chick.” Jagger moonwalks across the mat.

  “I’m not.”

  He spins on the balls of his feet and points his gloved hand my way. “You are. You could fire her and then fuck her. She’d be pissed off at you and everyone knows that a hate-fuck tops them all.”

  “Can we get back to boxing?” I shift my weight from one foot to the other and back again.