by Witt, L. A.
In the locker room, we both went straight to the sinks to scrub our hands, since neither of us wore gloves—gloves were for the weak!—and weights were gross. Then it was back to our lockers to change clothes. I fumbled with the combo on my lock, and as I pulled open the door, I turned to say . . . something. But it vanished. Along with my breath, my balance, and my brain.
Back to me, Natalya peeled off her crop top.
Jesus. Stop staring. Friends, Anna. Friends. Not . . . God, she is so hot.
She dropped her shirt and glanced my way. Before I could avert my eyes from her gorgeous breasts, she did a double take and grinned. I was so busted.
She laughed softly and toed off her shoes.
I looked around, searching for anything but her to hold my gaze, since I wanted nothing more than to just stare and drool and be completely shameless about how much I wanted her lean, sweaty figure.
There was no one else here. As it had been when we’d arrived, the locker room was silent. Completely empty except for us.
I cleared my throat. “Wow. There’s no one in here tonight.”
“This late?” Natalya pulled a T-shirt from her gym bag and put it on with no bra underneath. “There’s never anyone in here.”
“Oh. Guess I’ve been coming at the wrong time.” Why did that sound like an innuendo? And why did she look at me like she’d heard the same double entendre that I did? And why was I so damned twitchy and— “I’m going to grab a shower.”
I snatched my shower kit and started to walk off before I remembered I needed a towel too.
In a less-than-graceful maneuver, I backtracked, pulled my towel from my gym bag, and then started toward the shower.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Or rather, who the hell was I kidding? Friends and colleagues and two people who didn’t hate each other . . . great. But what was I supposed to do with all the chemistry I felt when I was in the same room with her? When I looked at her? When I caught a glimpse of her shirtless and wished like hell she would just turn around goddamn it.
I swore under my breath as I stepped around the corner into the shower area. For a couple of seconds, I stood there—eyes closed as I took slow breaths—and tried to push her from my mind. If something happened in the future, fine. But for now, we were friends because I’d botched the hell out of our attempts at something else. We’d work together. We’d work out together. And maybe, someday, in the future, if I played my cards right . . .
Keep dreaming, sister.
Scowling, I leaned against the wall just inside the tiled area and put on my flip-flops. Then I carried my soap and shampoo-plus-conditioner-because-I’m-fucking-lazy bottle into the tiny shower stall.
The water pressure was nice, and this gym was blessed with awesomely hot water, unlike the last place I’d used. This time, I was tempted to turn it to ice-cold, though.
I really was losing my mind. No woman had ever made me trip over my own feet like this. There was a time when Leigh had made me smile, when I’d caught my breath whenever she came into a room, but never like this. Leigh never could make me forget how to speak or what I was doing just before she’d showed up. Was I turning into an insatiable horndog or something?
Or maybe I was still in shock that Natalya and I had landed back on friendly ground after I’d screwed things up so much between us. So it only made sense that I’d have a visceral reaction to being in the same room with her. On some subconscious, lizard-brain level, I was probably still expecting her to snarl at me and—
“Mind if I join you?”
“Shit!” I jumped out of my skin.
I spun around as Natalya stepped into the tiny stall with me, her hair still up in a messy ponytail and her beautiful body completely naked.
“Um.” I swallowed. “No, I—”
She kissed me.
Full-on. Openmouthed. Hand in my hair, tongue between my lips, skin against skin.
We stumbled back a step. Cold tile hit my skin, making me yelp, but it didn’t matter for very long because Natalya’s body was against mine.
“I can’t resist you,” she murmured. “I know we said . . . friends . . .” She kissed me again. “But I—”
I claimed her mouth and kissed her hard. I grabbed her hair and held it, but she didn’t let me take control. She forced my lips apart, stole my breath, dug her nails into my hips. Water cascaded over both of us—but not between us—as we made out like nothing had ever happened between that quickie in my office and now. No stupidity. No fighting. Friends? Sort of ex-lovers? Colleagues? Whatever we’d been, or thought we’d been, it all vanished like the water turning to steam on our skin. Whatever we’d tried to be or maybe even succeeded at being for a minute or two here and there, this was what we were right now, and it didn’t need defining as long as it didn’t stop.
Her warm, wet hand slid between us and over my breast, and she teased my hard nipple with her thumb. The other drifted downward. My thighs parted as if she were controlling them for me. I was fine with that, though. Because now her hand was on my pussy. On my clit. Fingers sliding up inside me. Oh God.
Pulling in a breath through my nose, I squeezed my thighs together, keeping her hand right where it was, and the subtle movements of her fingertips were just . . . just . . .
“Oh Jesus . . .”
Through the dizzying arousal, a single clear thought jolted its way to the front of my mind: I had this beautiful woman in my arms. Why the hell wasn’t I touching her everywhere?
Easily remedied. I wrapped my arms around her, then followed her lead and ran my hand along her hipbone to the mound of thin hair and down to her pussy. Natalya whimpered but didn’t break the kiss. She leaned into me, pressing me up against the cool wall, and kept right on kissing me as she worked at my clit and I worked at hers. She gripped my wrist, but didn’t try to pull my hand away. I couldn’t tell if she just needed something to hold on to, or if she was making sure I didn’t stop.
With a gasp, she broke the kiss and murmured something in Russian. Rubbing her pussy against my fingers, she moaned softly and buried her face against my neck. Her teeth grazed my skin, and her whole body tensed and trembled. She swore in one language or another, gripping my hand between her powerful thighs just like I gripped hers.
“God, Natalya . . .”
Cold panic jolted me—had I just said the wrong name? The woman I’d been fantasizing about instead of—
No. My fantasy woman was right here with me. Naked. Wet. Teasing me like I teased her.
“Natalya . . .” Her name made me shiver. I really had her. This wasn’t a fantasy. This was real, and it was awesome. I was with Natalya. Kissing her, circling her clit with my fingers, turning inside out from her fingers doing the same. Hot water still poured over both of us, but it had nothing on the heat of her skin. My upper body was achy with fatigue, and I didn’t care at all as long as my muscles held out just a little longer. Just enough to drive Natalya crazy, and then exhaustion could take over all it wanted. But first I had to make her come. And I had to come. God, with her fingers on me and her lips against mine and—
“G-gonna come.” I tilted my head back. “Gonna . . .” I couldn’t even remember what to do with my fingers. Natalya released my hand and pushed it out of the way, and I leaned against the wall, arching and gasping as she worked furiously at my pussy and sent me closer, closer, closer—
“Fuck!” I squeaked. I had just enough presence of mind to clap a hand over my mouth, and I muffled my own cries as I shook and melted and damn near collapsed.
As my vision cleared, I was met with the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen: Natalya, dripping wet, pupils blown, stringy blonde curls dangling in her eyes.
My God. She was hot. And she needed to come. Right now.
I licked my lips and pushed her back against the opposite wall. She hissed, arching off the tiles, then grabbed my hair and kissed me hard, but I only let her have a few seconds before I knelt at her feet.
As the
water beat on my back, Natalya parted her legs, and she braced against the wall before I’d even put my mouth on her. Good. Because once I started, I had no intention of stopping.
And I didn’t stop. The second my tongue met her sweet, wet pussy, there was no stopping if I wanted to. Not when a single circle around her clit made her curse, or when my fingers sliding up inside her made her gasp and shiver. No wonder I couldn’t stop ogling her or fantasizing about her—this woman was a drug, and I was addicted. Her soft little gasps. The tanginess of her pussy. Her strong fingers in my hair, and her thighs quivering beneath my hand. God, yes. More.
She gripped my hair and pressed her pussy against my tongue, grinding against me as the shower swallowed her moans and whimpers. I fluttered and circled faster, and she made more—and louder—delicious, helpless noises as her powerful legs trembled beneath her.
Natalya slurred something in Russian. Her whole body tensed. Her breath caught. I gave her all I had, keeping her there at the edge for one, two, three more seconds before she clapped her hand over her mouth, moaned, and shuddered violently. I kept a hand on her thigh so she wouldn’t collapse, and kept licking her clit until she pushed my forehead away.
I rocked back on my heels and looked up at her. Wet. Shaking. Nipples standing up. Skin flushed. Eyes shut. Holy Jesus, this woman.
Out of breath myself, I stood, and before I’d even found my balance, I was in her arms again. Pinned to the wall again. Kissing her again. Tasting her pussy and her mouth and . . . holy fuck, I needed more of this woman.
She touched her wet forehead to mine. “I couldn’t resist. I just want you so bad.”
“M-me too.”
“We should go.” She swallowed. “Might . . . get caught.”
“I know. We will. In a minute.” I kissed her again, and she didn’t protest.
Eventually, though, we turned off the shower and returned to the dressing area. We were still alone, which probably should have been a relief, but I just didn’t care. I couldn’t. I was tingling and trembling too much to give a damn what anyone else thought about the sex we’d had in the shower.
But now that we were coming back down, dread set in. We’d crossed that line again. We’d had sex even after we’d sworn to stay friends and colleagues and whatever.
What now?
Natalya turned to me as she put on her bra. “You all right?”
“Yeah, I . . .” I looked down at the bra in my own hands, which I didn’t even remember taking out of my gym bag. “Just . . . um . . .”
“Worrying?”
I nodded. “I’m sorry. I probably overthink things, and I know that, but I—”
“Relax.” She came closer and put her hands on my waist. “We have chemistry. It is what it is.”
“I know. But I’m . . . I mean, sex is all I’m good for right now.”
Natalya’s grin weakened my knees all over again. “Then maybe that’s all we need.”
I chewed my lip.
“Anna, we don’t have to do anything serious. Maybe . . . maybe we can fool around, nothing serious or exclusive, and the rest of it?” She shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.” She gathered my hair and smoothed it into a ponytail, then rested her forearms on my collarbones, raising goose bumps all over my hot skin. “If it turns into something more, then it does. By then, you’ll have been around me enough, maybe it won’t bother you so much that I like men too.”
I swallowed, shame tugging at my gut, especially as I wondered if it was possible for me to let go of that uncertainty.
“Just give it a chance,” she whispered, drawing me in. “You never know, right?”
“No, you . . .” Her lips. Her body. God, she was close. “You never know.”
Natalya smiled, then kissed me, and yeah, I could see giving this thing a chance. It was an easy decision when we were standing here like this, an orgasm still tingling between my legs and her soft lips against mine.
But would it . . .
Could we . . .
Are we asking for . . .
To hell with it. “Okay,” I murmured between kisses, my heart speeding up all over again as renewed excitement rippled through me. “We’ll see what happens.”
She kissed me again, then flashed me a triumphant grin. Her eyes flicked toward the clock on the wall, and she scowled. “I have to be on set early tomorrow. I should go.”
“Me too.”
We held each other’s gaze, and I could feel the One more kiss? vibrating in the air between us, but that wasn’t a good idea. Tempting, yes. But then we’d be here all night, and we both knew it.
We separated and continued putting ourselves back together so we could leave the gym and go back to the world that apparently still existed outside. We dressed. We made ourselves halfway presentable. We both pulled our hair up in tight, wet ponytails and slung our gym bags over our shoulders.
Then, together, as if nothing had happened, we walked out of the locker room.
Jeremy waited for me, and though he didn’t glance at his watch or his phone, the slight lift of his eyebrows—not to mention the way his eyes flicked toward Natalya, then me—were about as damning as could be. He was a parent, after all. He had the whole you’ve been up to something look down to a science.
Natalya gently elbowed me. “I’ll see you at work.” She winked, then headed for the door.
Jeremy watched her go. When he turned to me, he didn’t say a word, but he knew. The ghost of a smirk on his lips, the slight narrowness of his eyes—yep, he knew. But he just shook his head as we started toward the parking lot.
Before I could speak, he put up his hands. “I know, I know. Not a word.”
“Mm-hmm.”
In silence, we walked out to the car. He did let a little snicker slip out as Natalya drove past—probably because I nearly tripped over my own feet—but I let it go.
We took our seats in the car, and as we buckled our seat belts, he said, “So, gym tomorrow night?”
I glared at him, and of course, he burst out laughing. I tried to keep glaring, but I couldn’t help it and started laughing too.
I playfully punched his arm. “Asshole.”
“Hey, hey!” He started the engine. “I’m just being supportive of your new commitment to fitness.”
“Sure you are.”
Chuckling, he pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward my house.
My phone vibrated. I turned it over, careful to keep the brightly glowing screen tilted away from Jeremy while he drove in the darkness.
No surprise—the message had come from Natalya.
We should do dinner sometime.
A shiver reignited all those nerve endings still glowing from my orgasm.
What was I thinking? We’d just finished agreeing to fool around and see how the rest of it went, and we were already talking about an actual date? Bad idea. Too much potential for drama. Too . . . too hot to ignore. Too damned tempting.
So, despite all my hang-ups and reservations, I wrote back, Definitely. When & where?
Chapter 12
When and where turned out to be almost two weeks later at Racine’s, a little restaurant overlooking the water fifty-some-odd miles down the coast.
That wasn’t to say we hadn’t seen each other, or hadn’t slipped off for some one-on-one time—my office and the locker room were getting a lot of mileage these days—but actually carving out time for a leisurely dinner? That had taken some doing.
And finally, here we were. On a date. Oh God—were we really on a date?
Apparently we were, because when I walked in and saw her, she smiled from the table she’d already claimed by the window. Her hair was down, tumbling over her shoulders, and she had on a cute gray blouse and a little silver chain that sat just right on her collarbones.
Our eyes met. That smile threw me off-balance, but I made it to the table without losing much of my dignity, and my heart sped up as I took my seat across from her. There was a glass in front of her, and suddenl
y I needed one in front of me.
Yep. This is a date. Here goes.
Jeremy sat a couple of tables over with Scott. Though he was enraptured by his boyfriend from the moment they sat down—those two were as adorable as Hunter and Kevin—he sat facing the door, with his back to the wall. Scott was used to Jeremy glancing past him every time someone came in, and they carried on in their own little world while Natalya and I carried on in ours. What the production company didn’t know wouldn’t hurt any of us.
At our table, Natalya’s lips quirked as she perused the menu. I was supposed to be looking it over myself, but that little twist of her mouth held my attention. Big surprise. We hadn’t gone a day without finding a few minutes to sneak away and fool around at work, and I swore I was still dizzy from the orgasm those gorgeous lips had given me in my office yesterday. This woman was definitely addictive.
“Are we ready to order?” The cheerful waitress startled me. I hadn’t even heard her come up to the table. As I shook myself and looked up at her, she asked, “Or do you need another minute?”
Natalya raised her eyebrows.
“Um.” I quickly scanned the menu, and when my gaze landed on something reasonably familiar and safe, I said, “I’ll have the pot roast.”
“And you?”
Natalya gave the menu another glance. “The lemon chicken, please.”
The waitress jotted it down, took our menus, and disappeared.
Alone with Natalya once more, I refused to let the silence set in, because then I’d just start staring at her—again—so I poked at some ice cubes with my straw. “So, um . . . you used to be a gymnast, right?” Okay, it was a lame start since we both knew damn well I knew she’d been a gymnast, but it was a start, so I didn’t apologize for it.
“All of my childhood,” she said. “Almost made the Olympics. Almost.”
“That must have been frustrating.”
“It was.” She sniffed with quiet amusement. “You’ve never heard a Russian coach get angry.”
“I’ve heard a studio exec get angry. How do they compare?”
She laughed. “Close, actually. And to be fair, I think he was more pissed at the judges than at me. I should’ve won.” Her lip curled. “The bitch who took bronze ahead of me didn’t even stick her landing.”
