“I am,” I admitted. I gave him a thin smile. “I know your neat-freak secret so I’ll tell you one of mine.”
He cocked his head to the side slightly. I recognized this as something he did when curious. “Okay. But it’s got to be a good one. I mean, being a neat freak is pretty hard to top.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not sure what’s supposed to happen now. I’ve…I’ve never really been on a date before. I know, this was just a coincidence, but still.” I glanced down at my lap, then back at him. “I met my ex in college, and we didn’t really date. We skipped a whole bunch of steps to the one where I got pregnant by mistake. Then married. Then fourteen years later, divorced. Those two awful blind dates I mentioned don't count, so I think this is actually my first real date.”
He looked surprised for a moment, then he smiled. “I really like that I’m your first.”
I looked at him sideways. “It…doesn’t bother you?”
He reached across the center console and brushed a lock of hair that had escaped my ponytail back from my face, tucked it behind my ear. I lifted my eyes to meet his as he ran his finger down my cheek. The feeling was exhilarating, the skin he touched tingling in his wake. I really wasn’t breathing now.
“That you’re not a player?” His voice was almost a whisper. “That you’re smart and honest and open and starting your life all over again?”
“Well, yeah.”
Instead of answering my question, he said, “Do you know what happens now?” He dropped his hand. “At the end of a date?”
“I thought this wasn’t a date.”
“Right, a coincidence,” he said. “Let’s pretend it was a date then. Do you know what happens?”
The car seemed very small all of a sudden. “Well, I have some ideas.” I lowered my eyes to his mouth.
“Such as…” His dark voice trailed off.
“My friends that date always talk about kissing, or asking a guy inside, or they talk about their one-night stands and even their walks of shame.”
“I never want you to do a walk of shame, Emory.” He sounded a little mad mentioning that.
He took my hand, held it beside the stick shift. His fingers were warm, his touch gentle as his thumb rubbed over my palm in slow circles. I felt the zing behind this simple gesture all the way to my toes. I darted a look up at his eyes and saw the same reaction I felt, the same flare of heat at the simple touch.
“I don’t want a one-night stand with you. You’re not going to ask me inside either. I’m the one that’s going to seduce you, Emory, which means you’ll be in my bed. Soon.” His eyes dropped to my lips. “I want to kiss you. Jesus, I want to taste you, but I want you to be ready first.”
I frowned, yet surprisingly turned on by his words. He was rejecting me? Wait, he said he was going to seduce me.
“Gray, I don’t under—”
He gave my hand a little squeeze to silence me. “When you’re ready, you won’t be nervous or unsure, like you are right now. You’ll know. You’ll want it just as much as I do. I’ll be waiting.”
Holy shit.
GRAY
“No, do it again. You need to get the bend of your elbow beneath their chin in order to get the choke,” I yelled at the guy I’d been training all afternoon, running my hand over my neck in frustration. He wasn’t getting it. We were on the mat and he was practicing his Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. He wanted to break into the MMA pro circuit but as a stand-up fighter, his groundwork needed serious help and he wasn’t picking it up fast enough for his first fight. But that was why he'd hired me, to literally beat him into shape. We’d been at it two hours now and everyone needed a break.
He tried it two more times, sitting behind his partner, wrapping his arm around his neck the right way for the choke. With the slight change in position, his partner tapped out. “Good. Now do it ten more times each, then get some water.”
The Muay Thai class was just finishing as Thor came over, rubbing his face with a gym towel draped around his neck. He had tapes over his knuckles and hands from hitting the heavy bag and was working his way through his water bottle. A techno beat pulsed out of the overhead speakers.
It was six and the gym was hopping, the after-work crowd getting in their workouts. Classes ran back to back for three hours. I wore a T-shirt with the gym logo, Muay Thai shorts and my feet were bare. No shoes were allowed on the mats and I’d had to get in the ring and work hand to hand for a while.
“How did your free afternoon with Laura go?” I asked him, grabbing my cell from behind the front desk. I’d sent Emory a text earlier instead of calling, knowing she worked all day and I didn’t want to interrupt her.
Taking out my aggressions in the ring instead of with a wooden mallet.
It wasn’t anything interesting, but I wanted to send her something. I wanted to have her smile, even if I couldn’t see it. Yeah, I might have felt like a thirteen-year-old girl with a first crush but I wanted her to know I was thinking about her. I couldn't stop thinking about the way she blushed, the scent of her, the sight of her muscles, all lean from rowing. And having her underneath me on the mat, hell, the feel of her body was imprinted on my brain. I couldn't forget if I tried.
For some reason, letting her know I was stuck on her was important. She was important. I had no idea why, I’d only held her hand, for Christ’s sake, but maybe that was reason in itself. Besides the MMA championships, she was one of the only things in my life I had to work for.