SEAN

As I tug on my sneakers to head into the house after training a couple days later, Celia asks me, “Can you hold up a second?” Hesitating, I walk back onto the padded ground, barefoot and sweaty like her.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Is everything okay between us?”

Bouncing my mitts against one leg I offer a noncommittal, “We’re fine.”

“You seem a little distant.”

“Just focused. Lot to learn.”

And your heart is somewhere else.

Plus, Luke said…

“Yeah,” she whispers, eyes traveling to her fingernails as she brings one up to bite it. Deciding against it, she crosses her arms. “You want to see a movie later? Maybe get the group of us to go?”

“I’m going to watch some videos on guns. See if I can’t get ahead of the game before we start that round of training tomorrow.”

Her smile grows as she releases her doubt. “Such a badass.”

Snatching her boots off the ground she heads inside with them lightly swinging. I stare after her.

Her instincts are right—I’ve been distant. But I can’t tell her why.

I’ve got all kinds of ideas of how to make that lonely look in her eyes go away. Gritting my teeth I stare off into the backyard and shake my head once, irritated.

In the kitchen I discover Sage teasing Atlas, a welcome sight since she and her brother have barely spoken since I got to Louisiana. They must have buried the hatchet because they’re both laughing as he grabs a protein shake from the fridge. His eyes flick to me. “You wanna shower first?”

“Yeah,” I smile, catching the shake he throws to me so he can keep talking to his sister.

In the hallway I run into Celia’s father. Tonk Sr. is lanky, a big guy, not as grey as Jett, but also blonde. Celia and Sofia Sol have that bi-racial thing in common, but both look less white, more Latin.

“Lemme talk to ya a second, Sean.”

“Sure, Tonk.”

He glances around to make sure we’re alone, “Listen, Jett told us about that guy you saved. The real story. Now don’t shut down! We need to know this shit if you’re going to become one of us.” I relax a little, because it’s true. No denying I need all their votes. With respect in his tone he surprises me by confiding, “When I was a kid, my dad was a real piece of work. That’s why he’s never met Celia or Junior. I uh, went through what you did.” He holds my look to infer he means the abuse. I nod and he inhales, staring at the wall like the memories are before him all over again. “I’ve had dreams about him, me telling him what a shit-hole he was, how much I hate him. If I came up on him now, I’d like to think I’d knock the fucker down.” Meeting my eyes he admits, “But I probably would have saved him, too. Lucky for me I’m old so he’s probably long gone. Must have sucked being you that day.” Clapping a hand on my shoulder he leans in. “I respect the hell out of what you did.” He moves on and I exhale the rest of my tension. Didn’t get a chance to tell him Carlo wasn’t my father, and I’m not sure if he thinks he was, but I’ll clear that up later. It wasn’t the important thing—Tonk wanted to get off his chest what was haunting him.

As I reach the second story, Celia emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered, her long dark hair in wet waves over a tattered terry cloth robe. She waves at me and continues onward to her room, smelling fucking incredible, bare feet leaving a damp trail I follow as my eyes slide up the backs of her naked calves, corded with muscle, the swaying hips as she tightens the belt and disappears, the antique door handle loudly clicking behind her. I swear under my breath at how badly I want that woman. If she’s not meant for me, then God has a wicked sense of humor.

Stripping naked I lock the door to make sure nobody walks in on the beating I’m about to give my cock. With hot water slipping down my body, rinsing sweat, blood, and hard work away, I grab a firm hold of my hardening length and groan with relief. As I imagine Celia in here just seconds before me, I give myself a good pounding that builds in intensity with each passing second.

She was under this stream.

That body that I can’t stop lusting after during training was naked right here in this same spot. Those painted on leggings, she stripped those motherfuckers off, stood completely naked right where I’m standing.

Ceels was all skin, breasts glistening, ass curved under the pressure of this exact shower.

My thick vein bulges under my fingers as my cock turns crimson, head increasingly more sensitive with every pump of my desperate fist. Groaning I picture that I’m inside her, hearing her moan. She’s opening her lips for my kiss, her legs for my cock. She’s whispering my name…Atlas.

My eyes fly open, fantasy completely fucking ruined.

Cussing a million words in one breath I drop my wilting erection and grab the soap.

The door bangs as Atlas shouts, “Don’t use all the hot water!”

Forcing myself to be casual I call back to him, “I’m coming out!”

But I’m not cumming.

And that’s the last time I torture myself.

I must focus on one thing.

Only one.

Enough with the unrequited attraction shit.

I’ve got work to do.