4
How had he imagined that she was soft and pliable? Oh, right, because she was having a heatstroke. Turned out that, once recovered, she could slug it out like an MMA fighter in a cage. Which only increased his attraction to her. She was more than curves that begged for his hands or full t**s he could feast on for days. No, she was much more. There was fire in that tasty little package. Either way the woman was not for him.
Those trusting amber eyes of hers looked even better with annoyance and grit flashing through them. Reaching over his desk, he slammed his laptop shut and dropped it over his crotch to cover the erection that was about to bust out of his jeans from their little tit for tat.
The flags of pink on her cheeks told him that she was feeling him as well. He bet the honey from her p***y would be tooth-hurtin’ syrupy. Sticky. Like biting into a caramel apple. That was for little boys. He’d left being a boy long ago. By fifteen, he was swinging at his s**t-for-brains father like a champ, and by eighteen he’d signed up for the military. Got him out of that run-down s**t town he’d come from and into basic training. He f*****g loved it. The rules, the cleanliness, the control. Life was simple. Men acted like men. There were a few assholes, but they were nothing compared to the fucker he’d grown up with. For the most part, they were honorable. Loyal. Deep down, he recognized that he could never be as good as they were, but at least they gave him a model to strive toward.
He’d lived under the illusion that he was a better man until the day Chopper up and killed himself. Jolted by the memory, his chair screeched away from Abby. There was no way he was touching a feisty busybody like her, with more sass than was healthy. She was trouble with a capital T, and he’d known trouble his entire life. The whole point of his life was to avoid accruing any more. She was the epitome of everything he didn’t want in his life. Didn’t deserve. Deserve, want. Same difference.
The little witch tapped her foot impatiently, arms crossed over her plump chest with n*****s that made him salivate. Waiting for his response after she dared him to go to her supervisor, aware that he’d do no such thing. She had the upper hand, and they both knew it. The fingers of his left hand twitched at his side with the maddening urge to rip off those fitted pants and swat the bubble of her a*s until it matched the color of her cheeks. He swiped the sweat building along his temples. Hot. Damn.
Gripping Abby’s chin, he tilted it toward him. “You get one class to supervise. One. That’s it.”
Ripping her chin away, she snapped, “More like observe. Again, you’re taking this the wrong way. I won’t judge you. I’ll be there for my clients. Seriously, what is your problem?”
Loki’s gaze pierced hers, and she scooted her chair back. Between clenched teeth, he said, “It’s my class and I decide how it’s run. You wanna observe? You get one class. Nothing’s gonna go wrong. I’ll prove that to you, and then you’re gone. Hear me, woman?” She hadn’t debated that, but he had to put his foot down about something, dammit.
“Oh, I hear you, man.” He groaned internally. There she went again. Her smart mouth begging for a swat on that plump a*s of hers. Fuckin’ pleading for a rectification on his part. He ground down on his molars. “I’ll be here at six,” she gritted out between clenched teeth.
She stood up and shimmied past him, her free hair swinging with her, leaving behind an intoxicating scent of oranges and sunshine. Did he just think the word sunshine? His life was a tundra. No sunshine. No warmth. He balled his fists in his lap, mesmerized by her twitching a*s as she marched out the door. Slam. The heavy door reverberated in its frame. He dragged a hand down to his hard c**k underneath his laptop and palmed it.
“Christfuck. I’m screwed.”
※※※
Marching down the corridor leading to the main floor, she balled her fists and punched the air. To think she thought he was hot. He was so overbearing! Her p***y fluttered when he barked orders with that growly voice of his, trying to bully her. Those cerulean eyes, whirling with a critical mass of emotions. And an inflexible pride that took her presence personally. He was trouble and she worked with troubled people all day, so she sure as hell didn’t need to date one, although she highly doubted “dating” was in his repertoire.
Plus, she couldn’t trust a man like him. A biker who dripped s*x appeal from his pores. He was a multiple-woman man, for sure. Not a bone of monogamy resided in that tall, delicious body of his. To her dismay, her first reaction to him was absolute: he was the one. She knew all about the one. She grew up listening to stories of how her parents had met and fallen in love at first sight, blah, blah, blah. But, that was her body talking. Not to be confused with reality.
He was basically worthless for anything beyond dirty, sweaty f*****g. She paused midstride. Come to think of it, s*x with Loki would solve one of her lingering issues. Resuming her determined pace, she shook her head. She’d have to keep her heart out of it. Abby snorted as she walked into the main area, the thumps of punching bags and grunts of fighters permeating the air. Considering he was so rude, it wouldn’t be a difficult thing to forget.
Skirting around the large boxing ring, Abby surveyed the floor for Sage. Her primary impediment to lusty s*x was lack of expertise and a wandering mind. Her first time had been abysmal. She learned a two-fold lesson: never lose your virginity to a virgin and experience matters. Once the mortifying hymen was gone, she figured she could afford to wait. Of course, she hadn’t expected almost three years to pass with no more than o******x as a follow-up. On her journey of self-discovery, she found that she had to be in full-on l**t mode to escape her persistent thoughts. During her last hookup, not only had she dried up like the Sahara on the Equinox, because, hello, that’s what lube was for, but she’d been so bored that the guy actually noticed. And commented on it. There was no need to do down memory lane to be reminded of how the episode ended. Accusations of being a wet blanket. As if. Pfft. Not with the way she m*********d. Not with the purple rabbit vibrator she used. Heck, no.
She spotted Sage sitting at a high table with her laptop open, typing away furiously, as she spoke into her cell phone. Rows of boxing gloves hung on the wall above her, along with vintage framed posters of boxing and MMA fights.
She slid onto the stool beside Sage, who lifted her index finger and mouthed “sorry” before returning to her conversation with whichever judge’s clerk she was speaking with.
Loki checked off certain boxes. The moment her eyes landed on those thick biceps and the scar running down his left cheek, her p***y went ding ding ding! Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner! Her body shivered like a Carnival dancer’s feathered headdress in a Mardi Gras parade.
Sure, she was treating him like man flesh. She should feel bad for objectifying him. Really, she should, but, heh, what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
Sage dramatically tapped several times on the “end call” button on her cell.
“What a miserable bastard!” she exclaimed about her caller. “Did you finish hammering out the details with Loki?”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“He’s prickly, for sure. I apologize on his behalf if he was being difficult. He tends to be…controlling.”
“You can say that again.”
Grabbing Abby’s shoulders, she gave her a quick squeeze. “He’s actually the best at what he does. I wouldn’t have pushed for him if I didn’t trust him implicitly. Despite his gruff exterior. He’s like a temperamental artist. The best manner of handling Loki is to ignore his grumpiness.”
“Oh, grumpy is an understatement,” Abby grumbled as Sage led her out of the gym. Clearly, that had little impact on her reaction to him. If anything, it might be part of the attraction. God, she was so screwed.