I push away from the door, running both hands through my hair.The lingering scent of her perfume—pear and jasmine mixed with something uniquely Alisha—isn't helping my self-control.Neither is the memory of how perfectly she fit against me, how her soft curves pressed into my hard planes, how her fingers traced fire across my skin.
"Fuck."The word echoes in my empty penthouse.
She's having wet dreams about me.The thought makes me groan.I've spent countless nights imagining her beneath me, above me, against every surface in my apartment.Knowing she's been doing the same...
A smirk tugs at my lips despite my frustration.At least I'm not alone in this madness.This attraction that's been building between us like a storm about to break.The way she looks at me during training, the little sounds she makes when I adjust her stance, how she bites her lip when she thinks I'm not watching—it's been driving me insane.
But I can't act on it.Not like this.Not when she's vulnerable, tipsy, running on liquid courage.She deserves more than a hormone-driven encounter in my doorway.She deserves...everything.
I stalk through my apartment, too wired to stay still.My skin feels too tight, my body too hot.The memory of her kiss burns through me—the soft press of her lips, the way she opened for me, the little moan she made that nearly shattered my control.
A cold shower.That's what I need.My third one today, thanks to this maddening woman.
But as I strip off my sweats and step under the spray, I know it won't help.Images of Alisha flood my mind—her red lips parted in invitation, those curves begging for my hands, the way she pressed against me like she couldn't get close enough.My cock hardens further, and I growl in frustration.
Fuck it.
I wrap my hand around my length, giving in to the fantasy.In my mind, it's her small hand stroking me, her breath hot against my neck as she whispers how much she wants me.I imagine her pressed against the shower wall, water cascading down her perfect body as I taste every inch of her skin.
My hand moves faster as I picture her wrapping those long legs around my waist, begging me to take her.The memory of her moaning my name earlier sends me spiraling closer to the edge.When I come, it's with her name on my lips, guilt and desire warring in my chest.
I lean against the shower wall, letting the now-cold water sluice over my overheated skin.It doesn't help.All I can think about is how her body felt pressed against mine, how her fingers traced patterns of fire across my chest, how her eyes darkened with want when she looked at me.
"Get it together, Walker."
Tomorrow, I'll have to face her in training.Have to watch her move, touch her to correct her stance, pretend I can't still feel the ghost of her lips on mine.Have to be professional when all I want to do is show her exactly how much she affects me.
This woman is going to be the death of me.
And I'm starting to think it might be worth it.
11
ALISHA
Oh god!My hands scramble to silence the ear-splitting wail that's drilling into my hungover brain.I crack open one eye, wincing at the sunlight piercing through the window.The familiar purple of my loveseat comes into focus.Why am I in the living room?
I shut my eyes again, tracing the sound to my left.Once I have the source in hand, I press the button on my iPhone.Silence!
Enjoying the blessed quiet, I press my fingers against my temples, trying to ease the throbbing tension.What the hell did I do?
I frown as images of Cole kissing me flood my mind.But the sensations are too vivid, too real...
Oh, my god!No, no, I didn't.
I pull my legs to my chest, curling into a ball of embarrassment while my heart pounds behind my ribs.After a minute of trying to control my breathing, I sit up, keeping my back to the window as I rest my head in my hands.
Wasn't it a dream?Unable to shake the nagging uncertainty, I grab my phone.A squeal leaves my lips when I see the last call—12:50 a.m., Cole.
The memories hit me like a truck.I kissed him.We kissed.Oh god, I told him he makes me horny, and I admitted not having sex in months!My cheeks burn at the memory of my wine-loosened confessions.How am I going to face him?
My eyes dart to the phone as it beeps, pupils dilating at Cole's name on the screen.
I'm in a meeting—no time for a morning workout.
A dash of disappointment settles in my gut.This means no clarity on where we stand, and I hate being in the dark.
Work out tomorrow morning?I text back, trying to sound casual.
