Breaking Defenses

by JB Salsbury

  “Tutor.”

  “Oh yeah, how’s that going?” He’s icing his hammy.

  “Alright, I guess.”

  “She hot?”

  I glare at him. “Not that it matters, but yeah.”

  “Nice.”

  “Do you ever not think about women?”

  “Why the fuck would I do that?” He chuckles. “Don’t act like you’re some saint. You’re with a different woman every weekend.”

  I suppose he’s right. “I gotta go or I’ll be late.”

  “Don’t forget,” he calls after me. “It’s poker night tonight! Your place!”

  I race out of the locker room to my truck, and run two campus stop signs to get to the library five minutes early.

  The kid at the front with the thick glasses looks up at me as I slam through the door like a stampeding elephant.

  I take four steps at a time to get to the top level and when I get to the study room Rowan’s bent over digging through her bag.

  I bite back a groan at seeing her round ass and shapely thighs wrapped in pale blue leggings. Those are the kind of thighs that feel like slipping into the softest bed as they wrap around my hips. When she stands up, her back is to me and her sweatshirt rides high on her hip. Fuck, her body is hot. A generous supply of healthy curves for big hands—

  “You’re here.”

  My gaze snaps to hers.

  Her nose wrinkles making those perfect freckles dance. “You’re sweaty.”

  “Yeah, sorry.” I point to the bathrooms. “Give me a minute?”

  She checks her watch, locks of her auburn hair falling to frame her pale face. “You’ve got two.”

  I drop my backpack and dip into the bathroom where I wash my face and dry as much sweat as possible. The semi I’m sporting is hard to hide in my workout shorts and with nothing to change into, I pull up the memory of the time I caught my grandma Katherine kissing her husband. With tongue. “Fucking gross.”

  The imagery works like a charm and when I walk back into the study room my dick is limp, heavy, and under control. That is, until I see Rowan.

  “What happened to your sweatshirt?” I say before I can stop myself.

  Rowan looks down at her tank top. I’ve never seen her show so much skin. Even in high school she only wore baggy t-shirts, nothing like the tight tit-hugging getup she has on now. Her pretty green eyes narrow. “They have the heat on in here.”

  Now that I think about it, it is pretty hot. Or maybe the sudden heat flash has something to do with my tutor and her milky white cleavage just two feet across from me.

  “Right.” I slump into my seat fighting the tingling rush of blood that, despite my best efforts to stop it, forces its way to gather between my legs.

  “Today we’re going to work on question four. The net present value equation.” She comes around the table and my eyes fix on her hips as they sway closer. She puts the paper down in front of me and leans over, giving me the perfect view of her white lace bra. “…Carey, are you listening?”

  “Uhhh… no.” I can’t stop staring at her boobs. I knew she had them, I didn’t know they’d be so perfectly round and creamy. I bet her nipples are red—

  “You’d be better off if you’d actually look at the paper.”

  “I disagree.”

  She stands up, crosses her arms at her chest. I smirk because that only plumps her breasts for my viewing pleasure. “You can’t be that primitive.”

  “I’m a man, Rowan. Fresh off a four-hour workout which means I have insane amounts of testosterone pumping through my veins right now. I assure you, I’m as primitive as a man can get.”

  She huffs out a frustrated breath and circles around the table, angrily pulling her sweatshirt from her bag.

  “No, wait. You don’t have to put the sweatshirt on.” It really is warm in here. “I’ll behave.”

  She glares at me in disbelief.

  I hold up a hand. “Scouts honor.”

  “You were a boy scout?”

  “No.”

  “Oh my God.” She pulls the sweatshirt over her head.

  I jump up and circle around the table. “I’m sorry.” I shouldn’t be laughing, but I can’t help it. This woman is way too fun to fuck with. “I promise, I’ll be good.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Trust me.” I grin and nod to her chest. “Take your shirt off.”

  “I have to wonder how many women have heard those exact words from your lips.”

  I pretend to think about that. “At least one or two I’m sure.” I can already see her skin growing damp with sweat. “Come on, just take it off. You’re no good to me if you pass out from heat stroke.”

  When she doesn’t move right away, I hook the hem of her sweatshirt and slide it up until her arms stop me. “Lift.”

  She drops her gaze to my chest but lifts her arms and I pull the thick fabric up and over her head. The hoodie catches on her ponytail and pulls it loose sending a curtain of wavy auburn hair tumbling down around her shoulders.

  “Fuckin’ hell, Rowan,” I whisper.

  She blinks up at me through nervous green eyes. “What?” she says on a breath.

  “I changed my mind.” I back away from her but push her sweatshirt into her arms. “Put that shit back on. I’ll get nothing done with you here looking like that.”

  “Shut up,” she says, smiling, and…well I’ll be damned… Rowan Campbell is laughing.

  I take my seat trying hard not to laugh, too, but lose the battle. “Fine, but I’m not looking at you for the next hour.”

  “Fine with me.” There’s a smile in her voice. “The only thing you should be thinking about anyway is cash flow and cash outlay.”

  “Says the gorgeous temptation across the room,” I mumble and focus on the equation.

  There’s a throat clearing and then a quiet, “You think I’m gorgeous?”

  She can’t be that unaware. From the sideswiped look on her face, I guess she is. “I have eyes, don’t I?”

  She dips her chin to hide a secret smile and I give her privacy by focusing on my work and ignoring my dick, who stands tall in hopes of seeing more of Rowan Campbell.

  Chapter Three

  Rowan

  Carey showed up for our session today fresh from a shower and, sadly, wearing a shirt with sleeves. I guess his practice was cut short this morning and he was able to get cleaned up. He’s shoves half a sandwich into his mouth as he walks into the study room, chews twice, and swallows it. He smells like cologne rather than the mix of spicy deodorant and earthy man smell he usually comes in here with.

  This is the fourth session we’ve had together and although Carey’s process is slower than most, he’s picking up the concepts enough that he should be able to pass his final next week.

  And then what?

  I guess we’ll go back to never seeing each other on campus, him sticking to the popular athlete side, and me to the other.

  I peek up at the man now as he bites his lower lip and taps the tip of his pencil to the paper. I’ve noticed he does this when he’s stumped. Rather than jump in and ask him what he’s struggling with, I wait him out to see if he comes up with the answer himself. Eventually he releases his lip and jots down his answer. A fierce swell of pride grows in my chest and I wish I could tell him I’m proud of him without sounding condescending.

  Instead I focus on his jaw as it flexes with each number he writes. How can a man so big and hard look so soft and smooth?

  He thinks I’m gorgeous.

  I’m sure he says that to all the women. Even the ones he’s not interested in.

  Stop it, Rowan!

  I am not one of those girls who gets distracted by a pretty man.

  Looking back down at my phone, I return to my search for a local mechanic that offers a student discount and a payment plan. When I went to start my car at three-thirty this morning to get to Bean Madness by four, it wouldn’t start. I didn’t have time to take the bus so I had to s
pring for Lyft, which cost me my lunch money for the day.

  In order to pay for school, housing, food, and my car, I have to stick to a very strict budget that leaves very little for incidentals.

  “Done.” He flips his paper around and shoves it toward me.

  I close out my phone screen and look down at his work. “Good job, you figured out the present value of the annuity.”

  “Yeah, fuck that though.” He’s smiling and like a stupid hormone flooded woman I smile back.

  Realizing my mistake I frown and look back down at the paper.

  Carey groans.

  My eyes snap to his. “What’s wrong?”

  “That wasn’t me.”

  A female moans in a staccato rhythm.

  He turns his head toward the thin wall of the study room. Another grumbled grunt and a deep voice.

  “Is that… I mean—”

  “Shhh….” He holds a finger up for me to be quiet.

  A woman’s voice mumbles and we both lean in to hear her cry out.

  I jump to my feet. “She’s hurt. Someone is hurting her.”

  He chuckles. “Oh she’s not hurting, baby.”

  I’m momentarily thrown off by his calling me baby, but he doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by his slip up.

  A rhythmic thumping is added to the moans and girlish whimpers.

  “Is that…are they having sex?” I whisper-hiss.

  He smirks. “Sounds like they’re having great sex.”

  The woman cries out again followed by a masculine voice telling her to be quiet.

  “What if it’s not consensual?” My heart races and I pick up my phone with the intention of calling campus security.

  “Sounds consensual to me,” he says.

  “Harder, yeah…fuck me.” The woman’s voice comes through the thin wall loud and clear.

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah…” The wall-banging gets louder and Carey leans his chair back, hands folded behind his head, lips tilted into a sexy smile. “That girl’s getting her donut glazed.”

  “What?”

  “You know, hitting the skins.” His grin widens. “Putting the wand in the chamber of secrets?”

  “Stop it! I know what you mean.” My face feels hot and although I wore a tank top under my sweatshirt today I refuse to take it off after Carey’s reaction yesterday. I can’t allow myself to be distracted by him. I pull my fingers through my hair and secure it with an elastic to try and cool off as the couple having sex in the study room next to us gets louder.

  “Who’s your Daddy,” the male voice says.

  “You are,” the woman moans.

  Carey mutters, “What the fuck,” with a smile in his voice.

  I muffle a giggle into my arm.

  The pace picks up.

  “Harder, Daddy!”

  I drop my forehead to the desk, my shoulders shaking with laughter.

  “Beg me for it!” the guy says.

  “Please, Daddy. Please.”

  Carey snorts and the sound makes me laugh harder until we’re both swiping at tears as the couple next door gets nastier and nastier until finally the thumping stops.

  “Guess Daddy finally blew his load.” Carey says so casually, hardly affected while I have both hands over my face that’s hot to the touch.

  “That was awful.”

  “Awfully awesome.” He jumps to his feet. “Come on, let’s go make shit uncomfortable.” He grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet easily despite my resistance.

  “No! That’s so embarrassing! I don’t want to know who that was!”

  “Are you crazy? Of course you do.” He tugs me to his side, loops his arm around my back and guides me out of the study room to wait by the door of the room next to us.

  I cover my face again. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I say, half-laughing still. I try to pull away to go hide back in our study room, but Carey holds me to his side.

  “It’s only polite to thank them for the entertainment.”

  When the door clicks open, I instinctively turn and bury my face into Carey’s ribs only to feel his arm tighten around me. I try hard to ignore how good it feels and peek out from the safety of Carey’s side to see a big tan guy come out of the room while zipping up his pants.

  “Kaipo, you motherfucker,” Carey says with a smile.

  The big guy grins. “You like that?” He holds up a hand to high-five Carey.

  “I’m not touching your hand, Daddy,” Carey says, his other arm coming around me so that he’s essentially hugging me to him.

  “You remember Callie,” Kaipo says and Carey’s muscles tense all around me.

  The change is so abrupt, I pull away from him and he lets me go easily. If not even quickly.

  “Callie, yeah.”

  The beautiful blonde, who looks like the actress Margot Robbie, still has her fingers on the buttons of her blouse as she stares at him with wide eyes. “Carey, hey.”

  The air between them becomes tense and it doesn’t take a polygraph examiner to know Callie and Carey have history of the sexual kind.

  The only person who seems unaffected or unaware of the tension in the air is Kaipo. He tucks Callie under his arm and then nods toward me. “Who’s your friend?”

  Carey clears his throat. “This is Rowan, my tutor.”

  “So you’re the nerd saving our boys academic career, huh?”

  Callie covers her mouth in an attempt to hide her smile.

  Nerd? Is that how Carey described me to his friends? “I guess I am.”

  His eyes do a slow dance down my body making me want to cover up with my arms. “A redhead.”

  I wouldn’t consider my hair red, but I don’t have it in me to debate.

  “The entire Grizzly football team thanks you.” He leans in to say something and instinctively I lean away, not that he seems to notice or care. “You wouldn’t happen to know if they clean these rooms every night would you?”

  I cringe. “They do.”

  “Good. Might want to use extra bleach on that one.” He winks.

  “Gross,” I mumble.

  “Nice meeting you, Rowan.” He reaches for me with open arms only to have Carey plant his palm into the man’s chest and shove him back.

  “Nope.”

  The guy holds his hands up and chuckles. “No hugs?”

  “Not a fucking chance.”

  “Not sharing, huh?”

  Carey doesn’t answer with words, but whatever he’s communicating non-verbally sends a strong enough message to make the giant laugh. “We better get going.” He tugs Callie away and I don’t miss how her eyes stay on Carey for as long as possible.

  Carey has his back toward me and he appears shorter with his head hanging low between his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I…”

  “Our time is up.” I spin around feeling sick to my stomach for no good reason. It’s not like I didn’t know Carey was a player. I don’t know why being confronted by a woman he’s been with makes me feel so gross. And I’ve never considered being called a nerd a compliment. Kaipo, Callie, and Carey could make millions in nude modeling and I stood there feeling like a hot dog in a bundle of exotic flowers.

  I don’t take the time to put my stuff in my backpack, just gather it in my arms and race by Carey. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Rowan,” he says sadly.

  “Tomorrow. I have to go.”

  Chapter Four

  Carey

  If I thought there was any chance that Rowan didn’t pick up on the vibe Callie was giving off when she saw me, that hope was demolished by her immediate and early departure. While Callie was giving off fuck me eyes, Rowan couldn’t run away from me fast enough.

  I seldom waste time on guilt. I consider it a pointless emotion. And yet, as I slam my things into my backpack the twisting remorse makes me nauseous. Stupid. What the fuck do I have to feel bad about? I’m a single man, I can do whatever I want with my dick. And do. As frequently as possible.

&nbs
p; So why do I keep seeing Rowan’s green eyes clouded with something that looked an awful lot like hurt?

  Jealousy I can understand.

  If I came face to face with one of Rowan’s ex-fucks I’d be envious of the ways another man got to touch her that I never will.

  And why is that?

  I zip up my backpack and head to my truck, running the confrontation over in my head and thinking of all the different ways I could’ve responded that would’ve made things less uncomfortable.

  Tossing my bag in the back, I fire up my truck and pull out to head home for a meal. When I pull off campus a familiar t-shirt catches my eye. I slow down and see Rowan waiting for the city bus. She has her nose buried in a book, she’s chewing her thumbnail, and her foot bounces frantically at the end of her crossed legs, as if she’s unsettled.

  I pull over and roll the passenger side window down. “Rowan!”

  Her head snaps up and her lips part.

  “Where’s your car?”

  She blinks and closes her book in her lap. “What are you doing?”

  “Your car, Rowan,” I growl with impatience.

  “Home. It wouldn’t start.”

  I push open the passenger side door. “Hop in. I’ll give you a ride.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Get in the fucking truck, Rowan.” After the way we left things in the library I feel the heat of my temper begin to swell, which is fucked up. My dad always taught me, “Save it for the field.” And I have. I usually don’t lose my shit around people and never because of a woman.

  Her eyes narrow and her jaw hardens. “I’m fine taking the bus.”

  The flicker of irritation ignites into a flame. “You want me to come over there, pick you up and throw you in the truck? Because I will.”

  “No, I—”

  I swing open my door, hop out and circle the hood.

  “Okay, fine!” She jumps up and scurries into the truck.

  I sigh, and head back to the driver’s side. “If you’d just do what I asked the first time then this would be so much easier on both of us.”