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By the time I’m done cleaning up, I’m a sweating, nervous wreck. I toss the wet towels in the garbage and wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. Still unsettled, I straighten out my clothes, checking that my amethyst is in place. I wore my usual khakis and short-sleeved sweater set, needing to appear as a professional amongst the fighters. The clothes are a little frumpy, but they make the fighters respect me in a way they wouldn’t if I hung around in sloppy sweats all day.
“Britt?”
I let out a startled yelp, spinning around to face the door.
“Sorry,” an embarrassed Max says. “I really need to learn not to sneak up on you.”
I feel bad about deceiving Max, but damn, the guy always catches me unaware. He doesn’t know I can’t hear well, so it’s technically not his fault he always manages to sneak up. Plus, because of K, I’m on edge today, which adds to my usual clumsiness. Still, I would think Max would figure out another way to approach after surprising me the same way so often.
“I’m okay, Max,” I lie. My blood is pulsing hard through my veins. First from my anxiety over working with K all day, then from Max startling me—I wouldn’t be surprised if I keeled over from a heart attack right about now.
“I just wanted to let you know they’re about to start.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder.
“Oh. Okay, thanks.” I run a hand over my straight blonde hair, making sure it’s smooth. Max scowls before turning and storming out of my office.
Huh? What is that about?
Whatever. I have no idea what Max’s problem is and honestly, I’m not in the mood to find out. Right now, my job is to watch—no, study—Mr. Sexy and Mysterious for the next six to eight hours. I grin. My job is awesome sometimes.
When I step into the main gym, I catch sight of K on one of the large mats, stretching his lithe body in ways that should be illegal. Desire flares, racing up my spine, igniting every nerve ending until my entire body is on fire. My breath catches when K’s hooded head slowly turns my way as if he can somehow sense me behind him.
Surrounded by shadows from the fabric pulled around his face, silver irises peek out, meeting my own, ensnaring me. Even from halfway across the room I see his pupils dilate a fraction. I lick my lips as a peaceful sensation calms my anxious mind, soothing my ragged nerves. I begin to wonder if K is the man who can give me what I need. That unknown entity my college boyfriend couldn’t manage to find. That even I can’t seem to figure out. After an eternity, K’s body unfolds, rising from the mat, his eyes never leaving mine.
Oh god. Can you die of lust?
“Britt! We’re at cage three today.”
Gabriel’s shout breaks me from the hypnotic spell. My ears and face burn as I hurry over to the cages, somehow managing to not trip over anything. What the heck was I thinking, staring at K and openly lusting after him like some kind of creeper? Ugh, he’d have to be an idiot not to see that I want him.
For the first time since I met the withdrawn man, I’m thankful he doesn’t speak much. Otherwise, I’d worry he would embarrass me for drooling over his sinfully flexible body. Jack, on the other hand, would think nothing of loudly calling me out in front of the entire gym if I looked at him in such a hungry, desperate way.
“Olá, Britt.” Gabriel nods in my direction. Turning, he greets K, who somehow slid in next to me without my knowledge. His arm is right next to mine, causing the skin below my short sleeves to tingle, the tiny hairs on my arm standing on end as if he’s sending out electrical pulses. “Killer.” Gabriel gives us his warm, fatherly smile. “Are we ready for a long day of hard work?”
I manage to turn the corners of my lips in a half-grin, half-nervous frown in an attempt to hide my reaction to K. I’m sure it makes me appear demented. Holding up my laptop, I announce, “I’m all set.”
Max sets up the camera, aiming the lens at the cage to record K’s work. Later tonight or tomorrow, Gabriel and I will both study the video, meeting afterwards to share our thoughts.
/> K replies with his usual grunt.
“Great. Killer, Max will help wrap your hands, then I’ll meet you in the cage.” Gabriel slaps K’s back with a huge hand and walks away to talk to one of the other trainers at a neighboring cage.
While K has his hands wrapped, I take a seat on a bench and open my laptop, getting ready to take notes, focusing on breathing to calm down my out of control libido. It’s important I pay attention and not spend all my time staring at K’s ass. I’ll need to reference the notes later while watching the tape to remember what my thoughts were as K made each move.
Max finishes wrapping K’s hands and fastens his thin gloves. The fighter’s fingers are now interwoven with wide bands of black leading up his wrists. His glorious, half-naked body bounces up the steps to the cage. Before he starts fighting, I greedily take in every single mark on K’s tan skin, examine every tattoo, trying to put a story behind each dark stroke of ink as I imagine tracing the lines with my tongue.
“Do you need a towel for all of your drool?” Max snaps as he drops to the bench next to me.
Shocked at his vitriol, and a little embarrassed to be caught gawking, I turn and gape at Max. “What is your problem today?”
“Nothing.” Max shifts away and focuses straight ahead. His jaw clenches as he pretends to watch Gabriel speak to K in the cage.
For god’s sake.
I am so not in the mood to deal with Max’s little hissy fit right now. Besides, I need to pay attention to every little movement K makes without distractions—lust, longing, Max—I can’t let any of them keep me from watching K fight. My job is to make sure his form is absolutely perfect so he doesn’t injure himself when he stands in the AFC octagon for a regulation fight.
K gets into his stance, Gabriel in front of him with pads on his hands and head. K’s muscles tighten and coil, his beautiful inked skin rippling over the sheer power it contains. Gabriel nods and they begin.
Oh god.
