“Ahem.”
The sound from behind me startles me and I whip my body around and smack right into a wall. Well, not a wall, but a chest. And when I say smack, what I really mean is that my over-sized boobs bounce against this gigantic chest-wall in front of me.
My hands fly up to said chest instinctively and I place my palms against his pecs. I feel them strain and flex under the weight of my fingers, and instead of dropping my hands, I dig my fingertips into the T-shirt. Wobbling slightly, my shoulders tremble – is that from the cold air or this guy’s massiveness? – and the sweater that was hanging over my back falls to the floor.
Leaving me staring up into the amused eyes of the biggest man I’ve ever seen. And he’s staring down at me, the deep hazel gaze drifting over my face and then down to my…
Oh crap.
I drop to my knees, pivoting on my heels to scrounge around the floor for my sweater, and then look up again at the mountain of man in front of me.
He’s glancing around the room with an embarrassed smirk across his mouth, a pinkish blush creeping up and around his neck, his ears turning bright red.
That’s kind of cute.
Yet, all I can think about right now is a quote from D.H. Lawrence fromLady Chatterley’s Lover. “…and the moment you begin to be aware of your body, you are wretched.”
I quickly stand, yanking the material of my blue azure cardigan over my chest as I turn and fumble around at the table with my things. I try to hide my humiliation over being such a klutz and for my appearance, but it doesn’t work so much because he gently touches my shoulder.
His voice is calm and quiet, as if nothing was amiss. “I’m so sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that, but I thought you saw me walking toward you. I assume you’re Brinley?”
My voice, on the other hand, quivers. Like a babbling brook over the smooth rocks of the river bed. “Y-yes. I’m Brin. You’re Preston?”
I nervously turn to the side, sticking out my hand for him to shake, but not fully facing him, for fear my nipples will remain fully erect missiles and he has the launch code.
Slinking into my seat, I do everything I can to avoid looking at him. I shuffle some papers, pull out my notebook and pen, check my phone and then nervously fiddle around with my hair. Which is still damp on the ends, so I must look like a drowned rat. I figured I’d have time to dry out since I’m ten minutes early for our session.
“You’re early,” I blurt out.
His lips quirk up into a half smile and he glances away before his eyes connect with mine again. He has super long lashes that frame his deep inset eyes. They are warm and hold a thousand untold stories in them.
“Sorry. I can go and come back if you want.” He points toward the door and I blink at him.
I’m confused. Is he serious? “Uh…”
Preston chuckles. “I’m just fucking with you. I was able to grab a bite to eat after practice and had some extra time, so I got here early. But if it’s a problem I can…”
“Oh, no. It’s all good. We’re fine. Okay then, let’s get to it, I guess. Where should we start?”
He looks at me helplessly and it kinda turns me into a useless puddle of goo.
“I have no idea. Wherever you think is best. You’re the expert here. I’m all yours.”
Oh my. I’m screwed.
In less than five minutes, I’ve lost all sense of direction. Like Preston is some electrical storm that’s messed with my compass and is going to blow through me, leaving me completely electrified and unrecognizable.
13
Preston
What the hellwasthatall about today?
Meeting Brinly for the first time was like crashing into a wave in the deep end of the ocean leaving me unable to ascertain any clue as to which way was up and practically drowning.
And I am a goddamn practiced swimmer.
Girls don’t normally affect me like that. I mean, sure, they turn me on. I’m a guy. I see a gorgeous body, I’m gonna show some interest. I date. I fool around. I fuck.
