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The next morning, I’ve just stepped out of the shower when there’s a soft knock on the locked bedroom door.
Since my outfit from the day before was dirty, I throw on the hotel provided white robe, then tie the sash tight before answering it.
“Yes?” I ask when I open the door…and find Lochlan on the other side in army green athletic shorts, a white T-shirt, and sneakers. I’ve never seen him so dressed down before in so few clothes that I can’t help but stare. Bare legs and arms full of big, corded muscles and so many tattoos. I want to examine and kiss every single one.
“Get dressed and let’s go.” My husband holds out a stack of white fabric to me, his own eyes dipping to where my robe crisscrosses.
“Go where?” I ask as I take the pile from him. Clothes. A new tennis skirt and sleeveless top, even underwear. I have no clue where he got them since I didn’t bring anything with me, or how he knew my size.
“Don’t you want to play tennis today?”
After the attack on the court last night, I can’t say it was the first place I yearned to go this morning. I don’t want to think about the thing I woke up yearning for requiring a cold shower.
“Sophie? You’re not going to let what happened yesterday prevent you from doing what you love, are you?”
“No,” I scoff when he makes me sound like the coward I am. “But we can’t go home yet, can we? And if we do, the court is probably still fucked up.”
I don’t admit that I’m not feeling brave enough to return to the scene of the crime.
“The guards said the court took some damage. And it’ll take a few extra days to replace the fencing with bulletproof glass around it.
“Bulletproof glass?” I repeat.
“It seemed like a necessary precaution. We could enclose it entirely, add air conditioning…”
“No. I like the outdoor court, with regular fencing.”
“I’ll think about it,” Lochlan grumbles. “I reserved a court for us to use here until it’s repaired.”
“You reserved a tennis court here? For us? You and me? You play tennis?” I still haven’t recovered from the sight of his muscled covered tattoos, and now he drops this bomb on me.
Bomb is probably not the most appropriate metaphor today.
“Yes, I play. And since your guards are still recovering, I’m your escort for the next few days.”
“You?”
“Are you just going to stand there in nothing but a fucking robe repeating everything I say until I rip it off of you and take you against another wall? Or do you want to get dressed and go play tennis, princess?”
I swallow down the desire raised by him mentioning ripping things off and fucking me.
“I’ll get dressed,” I agree, even though I’m curious to see how long he would wait before he snapped.
Half an hour later, sweat is dripping off every inch of me from trying not to let my husband beat my ass in the last set. Playing against him is not as easy as I thought it would be.
“Game…set…match,” I gasp triumphantly when he lunges to the right and just misses my volley.
“Damn,” Lochlan huffs, bending at the waist to catch his breath. “No cardio competes with this fucking sport.”
“You’re actually…good,” I remark as we both meet at the sideline bench to rest and gulp down water.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he says with a smirk. “Business dealings with the rich are made on golf courses and tennis courts in country clubs. My father made sure I had lessons in both so I wouldn’t embarrass him.” He chugs water, then pours it on the top of his head to let the clear liquid run in rivulets down his face mixing with his sweat. “Julia Townsend actually. I still prefer golf since it’s mostly standing around and waiting. Tennis is more brutal on my lungs than I remember. Fucking cigars.”
The next match I don’t have a chance of winning, not when Lochlan peels off his shirt. Seeing his rippling chest and stomach muscles for the first time is too distracting. Especially the ones on his abdomen, where sweat drips down between the crevices of his six-pack.
“Like what you see, princess?” the arrogant bastard asks with a grin when I miss another volley.
“How well do you think you would play if I took off my shirt?” I snap back at him. It’s so hot the thought of stripping off my top and only wearing the new sports bra he bought me this morning is very appealing.
