Helena
There’s still time before the next appointment. I decide to get some time in doing some research about the client and his injury. Engrossed in my reading, I don’t look up when James calls out, “Helena, you got a sec?”
I call back, “Sure do.”
I make my way to his office, but when I reach the door, I screech to a halt.
What the fuck?
James smiles up at me. “You should have told me.”
Wide-eyed, I look over at James before turning my sights on a smirking Max. I croak, “What?”
James motions for me to sit. I do, next to Max. He looks to Max. “Max was just telling me about how you want to do some private sessions with Ceecee.”
I glare at Max and mutter through gritted teeth. “He did, did he?”
Max shrugs, smiling. “I did.”
James starts again, “You’re sweet, Helena. Really. But you shouldn’t have worried.”
My brow creases. “What?”
Max explains, “I told him about how you said you wanted to do the sessions, but didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. Especially James’, being that he’s Ceecee’s PT and all.” Max reaches over to squeeze my thigh. “I was going to let this go. Really, I was.” The lying sack of shit! “But I know how much you wanted to do this and how you thought it would help Ceecee so,” he looks over at me with fake regret, “I had to tell him, Lena.”
I’m stunned. I lift my panicked gaze to James and ask a shrill, “And you’re for it?”
James beams. “Of course I am. I’d do anything to help Ceecee, and I’m glad you would too. As far as I’m concerned, we’re a team, Helena. You’re not stepping on my toes. I love the idea of the two of us working with Ceecee.”
I slump in my seat and utter a quietly hoarse, “Okay.” I quickly remember to ask, “You don’t think this is a conflict of interest, do you?”
James’ face falls. I side-eye Max to see his smile fall along with James’. James scratches at his chin. “Hmmm. I’m not sure, really. I mean, I know your families are twisted in together. That could be a problem.” I turn to Max and silently gloat. I hate myself almost immediately when I see the dejected look on his face.
James asks Max, “You didn’t really know Helena before now, did you?”
Max responds through a sigh, “No, sir.”
James looks over at me. “And you said yourself that you don’t know Max all that well, right?”
I said that? When the heck did I say that?! Stupid mouth with the saying things and such! I think about lying, but instead mumble sorely, “Yeah.”
James smiles once again. “Then I don’t see a problem here.”
Max stands, raises his arms in the air high above his head, and hisses out, “Yes!”
I’m suddenly yanked into a tight hug. Max lifts me so my tiptoes barely touch the ground, his cheek pressed firmly against mine. The light scent of his cologne wafts up gently, just enough to silently tempt me. He sways me excitedly from side to side, the tips of my sneakers making squeezing noises as they’re dragged along the ground, then he utters into my hair, “See? I told you he wouldn’t mind. I knew it would work out.”
My arms limp by my sides, I whisper hiss into Max’s ear, “I am going to cut off your balls then feed them to you, one testicle at a time.”
Max sighs happily, pulls back, and rubs my arms, beaming, “I know. I’m happy too!”
Forcing a smile, I puff out, “Hooray.”
James smiles up at the two of us. “I’m so glad it worked out.”
Max wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “We are too.”
As my head touches his shoulder, I again breathe in the woodsy scent of him and wonder if he’s worth five-to-ten in a maximum-security prison.
***
Max
The look on her face. I chuckle to myself as I walk through my house. I know I shouldn’t laugh, but, shit, it was funny. My mama taught me better than to poke a bear, but here I am, poking away.
Me: Come have dinner with us tonight at home. We have to work out a schedule.
Nik asked if I was coming back to work this afternoon. I wasn’t sure what time my impromptu meeting would end, so I told him I wasn’t. Now, at home alone, I think of what to cook. What would Helena eat? My phone pings.
Helena: Eat shit, asshole.
I tilt my head back and burst into laughter. I really like this girl.
Me: Pan-fried shit with roasted potatoes and salad. We’re all set. Luckily, I have all those things at home :)
Shaking my head, I reach into the fridge and pull out the steaks I had marinating from the night before. She looks like a woman who would eat a steak. Her ass looks like she’s a woman who likes steak.
That ass.
Fuck me, that ass.
My forehead hits the fridge with a thump. My hand slides down to cup my semi-hard dick and squeezes it tight. I can’t stop thinking about her. Her damn body looks like it was made to fit mine. It’s teasing me, taunting me every time I see her. Toned and firm, thick in the places it should be, a smart, kissable mouth, those sexy pouting lips, tits that would fit nicely in my palms, long, wavy, dark hair, green cats eyes, and long lashes.
All I want to do is bend her over and let my hands roam. I want to feel her body, hold her hips tight, her ass pressing back against me as I grind into her, her looking back at me through hooded lids, cheeks flushed pink, lips parted, breathing erratic.
I bite my lip. My eyes shut in a mixture of pleasure and pain. I can’t deny it. I want her in my bed. But she’s a lady, not the type to fuck around. I won’t lie. That just makes me want her more. Broads are broads. I’ve never wanted a broad for anything more than to warm my bed. Helena’s a lady. That’s a whole different story. My mind wanders. Is she quiet in bed, or does she moan loudly? I bet she’s a quiet one. I’d also bet I could make her scream.
Stop it, moron. My hand squeezes my cock harder. I groan, then whimper.
Shit.
I need to get laid.
***
Helena
Why must he taunt me? As if it’s not bad enough that he’s gorgeous and his body is something out of Men’s Health magazine, he’s funny when I don’t want him to be. And that sucks! It’s true I didn’t want this private training position, but I have to admit I spent the afternoon researching things I can do with Ceecee, and I’ve got to say I’m excited about it. If she knocks back the things I’ve found, I’ll just search and search ‘til I find something that suits her.