by Leigh, Ember
But she’s off-limits. “That’s a pretty fancy bathing suit.” He sauntered past her, struggling to keep his eyes off her as he walked past.
“Don’t you like it?” She stuck out a hip.
He allowed himself to look her up and down again. It was a one-piece with most of the center cut out. It had only a strip of fabric connecting the breastbone to the pelvic area, which meant it highlighted unnaturally the hourglass curve of her body.
“It’s nice.” He meant to continue to the chair where his towel lay draped, but his feet wouldn’t take him away from her. He gritted his teeth, unable to keep the beast of desire at bay any longer.
“Oh, that’s your only opinion? Just ‘nice’?” She lifted a brow.
“You look sexy as fuck, Amara.” His voice came out low. She grinned, pulling her hair into a small bun. He reached for her hand, stilling her. “Leave your hair down.”
She did as he said, blinking up at him with a sexy type of honesty, as if she waited for him to lead the way.
He dragged his fingers down the side of her arm. “Be careful with this.” His hand smoothed over the curve of her exposed hip, and her breath hitched. He cinched her body to his, vision going spotty for the briefest of seconds. “It’s powerful.”
She laughed a little, but it faded fast. She danced her fingertips up the sides of his arms, making his cock twitch.
“So are these.” She trailed her hands over the arcs of his biceps, the heat of her breath against his chin. He brought both arms around her, making his muscles bulge; she fit like a puzzle piece.
He hovered his lips over her forehead, desperate for contact but liking the prickling tension of withholding just a little bit longer. He pushed his hands over her hips.
“Can I test out the suit?”
She nodded. “We better make sure it passes muster.”
He drew a ragged breath as he palmed the taut melons of her ass cheeks. He pressed her into him, rocking his hips in a lazy circle. She had to feel his cock by now.
“Pretty nice.” His voice came out almost a growl, and he dipped his head to nuzzle the sweet hollow of her neck. She inhaled sharply, just as he sensed the front door opening.
He stilled. The front door opened and then shut. He swore and dropped his hands. She cleared her throat, stepping away from him, reaching for the pile of clothes discarded on the bed.
“Holt, where you at?” It was Lex. “Dude, we need the ice.”
Travis rubbed his face, trying to efface the lingering memory of Amara’s perfect ass cheeks singeing his palms. “I’m coming.”
Amara arched a brow.
Travis opened his mouth to say something, but had no idea what. Sorry, you’re too fucking hot? He headed out into the kitchen, where Lex pulled a bag of ice out of the freezer.
“Starting with Jack,” he said, as though this explained everything. He followed Lex out of the apartment, Amara’s scent still whispering through him.
They boarded the elevator, and the spell broke. This was turning out to be the delicious nightmare he’d envisioned—denying the simple urges he felt for Amara while in front of her overprotective brother, almost overruled by carnal desires at every turn.
She was too hot. And she felt too damn good in his arms.
This was a lot of trouble already.
Chapter 5
Amara sighed, leaning her head on the side of the hot tub, gaze drifting toward the stars. This was exactly what she’d needed without knowing it; her quest to imbibe Travis had led her to the most unexpectedly satisfying rooftop evening.
On the far side of the massive hot tub, Travis and Eddie splashed water at each other. Almost every movement from Travis yanked at her attention like an excited child; seeing him shirtless, in the flesh, was more thrilling than if she’d met her favorite celebrity. Sure, he was sexy as fuck—but whenever he came near, or spoke to her, or let his gaze linger on her, there was a warmth that spread and settled in her. His steadiness. Shivers ran up her spine.
Once her pussy had stopped throbbing in protest, the night had been a pleasant rotation of conversation, drinking, and roughhousing. Breasts floating just above the water, she watched as Travis put Eddie in a headlock. She aimed her tits right at him like a laser. Anything to get him to pay attention to her again… Anything.
Her nakedness had made him waver. Now she had to resort to the power of nipples and whiskey. Or whatever.
She grinned and flipped over, finding a weak jet that pulsed near her pussy. Eyes drifting shut, she relished the accidental discovery. Dangerous stimulation for such sexual repression around Travis.
Eddie gasped with laughter. “Oh, fuck no, Holt.”
She turned to watch the shenanigans. Splashing got louder. “Come on, show me.” Travis stumbled out of the hot tub, beckoning to Eddie. “Come on.”
Eddie clambered after him, meeting him in a wide-open area of tiled rooftop. On the far edge of the patio, Lex and Jake stood surveying the skyline, talking between themselves. At the commotion, they turned and took interest.
“Place your bets,” Jake shouted into his fist. Amara rolled her eyes. “Holt versus Valenzuela.”
“My money’s on Eddie,” Lex said. “He’s been training.”
“I don’t bet on fighting.” Amara floated closer to the action, hanging over the edge, frowning at the boys.
“Thanks, buddy.” Eddie smirked over at Lex. “Good thing you’re not betting money.”
Lex stepped forward, raising a hand in the air. “Ready…set…fight!”
Eddie hopped from one foot to the other, looking antsy yet focused, fists in front of him. Travis looked more like a predator, something dark and mischievous coming over him. He swiped at Eddie. Eddie swung, and Travis grabbed his arm, spinning him around, doubling him over from behind. Eddie cackled; Lex and Jake whooped, and before Eddie was pinned, he slid out from underneath, smiling but flushed.
“Fuck, you’re quick.”
Travis swung to hit and made contact, but not with as much force as Amara suspected he could. Eddie dipped and swung, hitting Travis’s side. Amara winced. Lex whooped.
“Five points for Eddie.”
Travis’s brow furrowed, but he never broke his concentration on his friend. “Five? This game is rigged.”
“He has a handicap,” Jake said, taking a swig of his beer.
“Guys, quit,” Amara said, pulling herself out of the hot tub.
“Not now, Mar.” Eddie faked a jab, then undercut, knocking Travis’s abs.
“Smart.” Travis relaxed for a moment, which made Eddie relax. Then Travis lunged and grappled with his shoulders, forcing him to double over. Eddie’s knees knocked the ground, and Travis covered him, wrapping his arms behind his back, locking him between his knees.
Jake whooped and counted down. Lex pumped his fists in the air at “Three!”
Travis released Eddie and stood, offering him a hand. Eddie shook it, sighing. “Worth a shot, I guess.”
“Next?” Travis swung around to look at Amara. Her heart rate picked up. She walked as coolly as she could to meet him head-on.
“You looking for a fight?” He pushed at her shoulder, which made her stumble back a little. “Or to learn a little self-defense maybe?”
She grinned up at him.
“Mar, this is a bad idea,” Eddie whined. “Dude, don’t even.”
“I’m not gonna hurt her.” Travis looked her up and down; the planes of his chest were a delicious distraction. What if they didn’t fight and instead just…rubbed up against each other again?
Her gaze wandered over the width of his shoulders, down the hills of his biceps. There was no way in hell she’d be able to even make contact if she tried to hit him.
“I don’t fight,” she said, her words withering in his masculine energy.
“Not even to protect yourself?”
She hesitated.
“Do you know how to punch?” His eyebrows lifted.
“I knocked a girl down in high school once.�
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“You did?” Eddie’s incredulity rang out through the rooftop. “Why?”
“She was bullying this girl in a wheelchair. Said some really horrible shit.”
Travis’s face softened. “She deserved it, then.”
“Totally.” She raised her fists. “I’ll pretend you’re her.”
He laughed. “Okay, so hit me.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere.” He gestured at his impossibly toned torso.
She furrowed her brow, unable to conjure anything resembling anger when looking at his six-pack. But she’d try. Gathering every ounce of concentration, she channeled anger and fear and frustration and launched her fist toward him with a grunt. He didn’t move, just looked at her with a nod.
“That was good.”
She let her shoulders droop. “You didn’t even budge.”
“If I had budged, then you’d be competing professionally by now.” He pushed her shoulders lightly. “Try again.”
She balled her fists, took a stance, spent a moment contemplating his navel and then swung. Travis intersected her fist, grabbed it, and twisted her arm, hard enough to hurt but not bad enough to do any damage.
“Gotcha.”
She laughed, feeling the strain in her shoulder. “That ended quickly.”
“Holt, let her go,” Eddie whined as he headed toward the other guys. “Come on.”
“But you can learn how to do that.” Travis grinned at her, ignoring Eddie, keeping her in the twist.
“Maybe if I’m fighting a grandma.”
He shook his head. “No. Watch this. Hit me again.”
She did as she was told, and he grabbed her fist, twisted her arm a different direction, and pulled her tightly against him. “How do you get out of this?”
If she could imagine her arm not twisted at the odd angle, it was almost like they were spooning. Almost. “Um, I don’t?”
He laughed. “You can.” He shifted against her, the heat of his groin exploding against her butt. Fuck, he felt too good. Tingles traveled throughout her limbs; she felt like she might black out.
“If you raise your elbow right now, you can clock me in the throat.”
She tried it, surprised to see the perfect angle at which she was unwittingly poised to overtake him. “Well, shit. You’re right.”
He loosened his grip, and she stumbled away from him, mind and skin ablaze with sensations.
“Have you ever taken a self-defense class?”
“Nope. Seems like I’m overdue.”
He nodded, gaze lingering on her. “Let me know if you want to learn.”
She checked out the boys, lined up at the fence on the far wall looking at the city. Skyscrapers and city buildings sparkled in the distance. “Thanks, Holt. You’re so nice.”
He shrugged. “I have skills I can share.”
“Fair enough. But admit it. You’re also nice.”
He grinned, dimples flashing, grabbing his beach towel from a nearby chair. “Fine, I’m nice too.”
“Do you offer self-defense classes at your gym?”
He straightened. “Used to. But didn’t generate a lot of interest.”
“How much did it cost?” Please say you offered it for free. Holt Body Fitness was a veritable money-making machine. But in all the glitz and glimmer of his celebrity clientele and the shiny, new machines, it would be easy to forget that some things needed to be not-for-profit. Or maybe that was just her line of work speaking through her.
“Had a regular-class price. And for members, it was one of their included classes each month.”
She nodded, looking him up and down. Those classes were expensive. Travis was gorgeous and smart, but maybe he needed to learn something about social service. “That’s probably why there wasn’t a lot of interest.”
“But the rest of our classes do fine,” Travis countered.
“Right. But those classes are about looking better. Women are conditioned to want to look better. But we’re not conditioned to take care of ourselves in some really important ways. I mean, look at me. I haven’t taken a class, and I work with victims of domestic violence.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You have a point.”
“They should be free, is all I’m saying. More incentive to come. And you should have them. Your brand name basically requires it.”
“All right, smarty-pants. Keep up those ideas, and I’ll be forced to hire you.”
She headed back toward the hot tub, his words thrumming through her. He snapped the towel before she stepped inside the tub, connecting with her right butt cheek. She sucked at her teeth. “Damn, that hurt!”
He laughed and stepped closer. “Wanna fight about it?”
* * *
By Monday morning, Amara was a jumbled mess of nerves. Each day that went by without progress on the job hunt felt like an eternity. And the more frequently she went to the gym, the more she noticed skipping a day. Both Saturday and Sunday had been days off, so waiting until Monday at 1 p.m. meant she was jumpy and jacked by nine a.m., desperate for a bench press or a job call or anything.
She’d set up a makeshift office in her childhood bedroom, using the artist’s workspace in the corner to spread out her laptop, files, and paperwork. She planned to spend the morning quietly looking for jobs, sipping coffee, and doing her best to not daydream about Travis.
Like that was even possible. She let her hand wander between her legs as thoughts invariably turned toward him. She dreamed about him almost nightly. The guy was like a goddamn drug, one she was addicted to before even tasting. What sort of pharmaceutical nuttiness was that? Almost every morning she woke up wet and clenching as images of their lovemaking receded in her mind.
She was going nuts. She rubbed at the tight, ready nub between her legs, letting her head fall back. Okay, so maybe her morning would involve quietly job hunting after rubbing one out.
The fun Friday night had burned the midnight oil; after crashing on his leather couch, she woke up to find Travis in the kitchen, cooking pancakes in an apron featuring a half-naked bodybuilder. Appropriate. She hadn’t wanted to leave his apartment—would have done anything to stay on, maybe even take up residence there. She loved the orderliness of his space. It screamed rock-steady, clean, organized.
Fucking Travis.
Her phone vibrated, startling her out of her masturbatory reverie. Unknown number. She snatched it up, answering with a professional, “This is Amara Valenzuela.”
“Ms. Valenzuela.” A woman’s cool voice greeted her. “This is Grace from Hidden Harbor. How are you?”
Her heart leaped into her throat. Just masturbating, is all. “Very well, and you?” Tell me I got the job. Tell me I got the job.
“Excellent. I called to follow up on our interview from last week.”
“Yes?” She clutched the edge of the table.
“We’d like to formally offer you a position as the director of community organization. Are you still interested in joining our team?”
Her breath slid out of her, and she sank into the chair. “I am. I absolutely am. Wow, this is amazing news! I’m so thrilled.”
“And so are we. We loved meeting you and are looking forward to an excellent career with you on staff.”
Amara and Grace exchanged information and agreed that she’d come in for paperwork the next day. When she hung up the phone, she was shaking.
“Holy shit.” She placed her palm against her chest, feeling the swells of her breaths. Pride ballooned inside her; this was the job she’d been hoping for. Working with battered women in the city at a shelter and community education center. YES. She leaped to her feet and rushed to tell Eddie and her mama.
“Guys, guess what!” She burst into the living room, where her mama was settling into the recliner. Eddie looked up as he helped their mother sit down.
“Que, mija?”
“I got the job at the abuse shelter!”
Eddie whooped, and once their mother was seated, jumped in
to the air, pumping his fists. “Fuck yes, girl! You got it!”
“Eddie, the mouth.” Her mother turned to Amara, eyes warm and proud. “Oh, mija, this is such great news!”
They all hugged, and Amara floated toward the kitchen to prepare a celebratory cup of coffee. Her mind wandered to Travis; she should tell him too. Maybe right away. He’d been so interested in her success.
She fished her phone out of her pocket and opened a new text message. She’d saved his number in her phone in case of emergency. That had been the rationale, at least, to answer Eddie’s curious looks when she’d asked for it. Really she was dying to talk to him more since their scorching bedroom encounter, and this was the perfect excuse.
Morning…it’s Amara. How are you??
She waited, barely breathing, for a response as she prepared the coffee. When her phone vibrated, she nearly dropped it in her haste to read it.
Spectacular. What about you?
Her heart clenched. Same. I wanted to share some news with you, thought you might be interested.
His response was fast. You’re joining the UFC after punching my guts out on Friday night?
She laughed, fingers hovering over the keypad as she thought of her response. I was worried you had internal bleeding after those punches. But we can talk about that later today. I just got the call. I got a job!
Congrats! Knew it would happen fast. You’re a star.
She smiled, rereading his message a few times. He was so good at building people up, caring about them. It was hard to imagine the pain she knew had been ingrained in him, that must still be buried deep inside somewhere.
Thanks, Travis. See you later.
She set the phone aside, watching the coffee brewer but not seeing it as it clicked through its process. Excitement burbled inside her—for the new job, for the new challenges ahead of her, and more presently, for the chance to be around Holt in a matter of hours, drink him up, savor his essence.
He was a drug she’d barely tried, but somehow, she knew it was the only thing she needed.
* * *
Travis checked the clock every other minute during the Monday morning meetings. Normally he was restless when cooped up in swivel chairs, but today was worse. Way worse. Since ten a.m. he’d been jittery, knowing without wanting to admit that it was because Amara had reached out to him that morning. Waiting for the hours between those texts and one o’clock felt like an eternity, as if he were back in high school waiting for a date to show up.