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My heart flutters in my chest at the simple gesture. It doesn’t mean anything. Him tucking my hair behind my ear like that. Or does it? I’m so confused and mixed up, and I fear it’s only going to get worse.
“Okay. Whatever you think is best. You’re the professional.”
He gives me a broad smile that I can’t help but return. Suddenly all of my worries are gone, and I’m ready to just roll with the punches. Today is going to be a good day regardless of how crazy my life currently is.
Maybe if I keep repeating that it’ll be true.
* * *
The rideto Thurston Academy is quiet. I’m feeling way too nervous about our first public appearance as Jasper’s fake girlfriend for small talk. When we get to the school, Jasper hops out of the truck and circles around to my side. My stomach erupts in a whole flock of butterflies at his gentlemanly behavior. Even more butterflies take flight when he helps me down from his truck, then threads his fingers between mine.
“Ready?” he asks, giving my fingers a slight squeeze.
“As I’ll ever be,” I say back, smiling weakly. Despite my self-given pep talk, I still feel completely unprepared. If I’m this nervous about introducing him as my boyfriend to a bunch of high schoolers, how will I feel when it comes to our friends?
We walk up to where the cheer squad is stretching to titters and giggles. They all pause what they are doing when they see Jasper and me walking up. There are several gasps when Jasper leans in and kisses the top of my head before heading toward the bleachers and taking up his post.
Like a switch was flipped, a dozen teenage girls start oohing and ahhing over the sweet gesture.
“Who’s the stud, Coach Winthrop?” Beth, one of my more outgoing students, asks.
I turn to look at Jasper, and he winks.
“My boyfriend,” I say, feeling a little thrill go through me. I clap my hands loudly to get everyone’s attention back on the task at hand. “Now, let’s get to work.”
I feel Jasper’s eyes on me throughout practice, and I can’t say that I hate it. In fact, I really like having his eyes on me. What I don’t feel is the crawling sensation that something is wrong. Maybe my stalker will back off now that Jasper is in my life. I can’t help but be happy that Jasper is here keeping me safe. It takes a lot of reminding myself that he’s only here because I hired him, not because this is some love affair.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Jasper
I spendthe morning watching Charity’s tight ass in those workout pants of hers, and it’s a lesson in self-control. I want nothing more than to pull her under these bleachers, push those skin-tight pants down, and fuck her until she’s screaming my name. It takes a Herculean effort to turn my focus back to my phone and the dozens of emails I have to go through. Over and over my attention is drawn back to Charity. I’ve never been so distracted or so tempted.
Several hours later, Charity claps her hands and ends the rigorous practice. I never thought about how much hard work it takes to be a cheerleader before, but I have a newfound respect for their sportsmanship. I shove my phone in my back pocket and look to where Charity is standing. She opens a bottle of water and takes a deep pull from it. Sweat glistens on her neck as her throat works, swallowing the cool liquid. My cock thickens, and I barely bite back a groan at her pure sexuality.
Fuck me, she’s sexy as hell even when she’s not trying.
“Good work today, girls,” she says proudly before dismissing the team.
The girls take off quickly, giggling when they walk past where I’m standing. Charity bounces up to me, appearing to have endless energy even though she just worked out hard.
“Ready?” she asks.
The red-blooded male inside me has my eyes drawn down to her perfect tits where they bounce inside her sports bra. I clear my throat and shake myself out of my lust-filled thoughts.
“Yeah, where to, princess?”
I hate how she flinches and some of the light goes out of her eyes when I call her princess, but I push that away.
“The gym.”
I can’t hide my surprise. “After that workout?”
She shrugs. “I usually run home from here. Since that’s off the table, I figure that a treadmill will have to do.”
I shake my head. She had mentioned running home, but that was before I knew exactly how hard she works out prior to that. Looking down at my watch, I see that it’s after one—well past lunchtime.
“You haven’t eaten,” I growl.
