Chapter 18: “Surrender to what is.”

Kenny

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Mariska waited with a matcha-tea smoothie for me when my last client of the day finally left.

“Smoothie on me.” She slid it across the counter.

“Thanks,” I said, noticing Slayde’s key was back in his slot. He’d left for the day without telling me, and I couldn’t stop a frown.

My best friend didn’t miss a thing. “What’s the latest on you and Batman?”

“Oh,” I tried to laugh it off, dropping my chin. “He... umm... had something to do this afternoon.” I couldn’t tell her the truth. I had no idea what was going on.

“It looked like things were getting pretty hot and heavy on Sunday.”

The smoothie she’d made me was good—tea with mint and a little sweetness. I took another long sip before answering. “Monday, too.”

“Well, it’s only Tuesday!” She laughed. “Why do you look like your favorite stiletto lost a heel?”

I stabbed my drink, wishing it were something stronger to numb this growing pain in my chest. “I’m afraid I might be pushing him too fast. That he’ll pull away all of a sudden.”

Her brow lined, and she stepped over to lean beside me against the counter. “I’m sure you’re not.” Reaching up, she slid a ringed finger down one of my long purple locks. “But I swear, the way he looks at you. He might be moving himself too fast.”

“Maybe.” I looked down, remembering last night in bed. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Two days ago, the center of my chest felt like it was expanding with joy. Now all that extra space was collapsing in on itself.

Mariska continued wrapping my hair around her fingers, watching my expression. “I want to have you both over for dinner and Turkish coffee Friday.”

Smiling, I blinked up at her. “I’m sure he’d like that. He told me he thinks you’re funny.”

“Then we’ll put it on the calendar in pencil.” Pulling me into a hug, she spoke against my ear. “Hang in there. Men get spooked when you touch them deeply, but he’s not going anywhere.”

I couldn’t tell her I’d been the one touched deeply. The speed of it all had my mind reeling, and I probably needed a little break to sort it out myself.

Squeezing her arm, I straightened up and pushed my hair behind my shoulder. “No matter what happens, I’ll be there Friday night. I can’t make my plans worrying about what some guy’s doing.”

“That’s the spirit. Friday it is—in pen.”

* * *

Lying on my couch, I pulled out my sketchpad and charcoal pencil. The drawing I’d started of Slayde had only partly come to life. I’d finished his eyes last night, shading them slightly oval, darker at the edges and clear in the center. I’d worked on them after he left, while they were still fresh in my mind. Tonight they made my stomach hurt they were so beautiful. I started on his jaw, shading and blending until I had the bone structure and texture of his light beard just right. That brought me to his perfect chin, and I exhaled a painful sigh as I finished it. Why didn’t he tell me goodbye? He hadn’t called or anything, and I didn’t know how to get in touch with him.

I dropped my head back on the couch cushion. I’d been happily alone for so long... well, somewhat happily. Then all of a sudden, he came along in a blast of intensely erotic and unexpectedly sweet companionship. Now I was even worse off than I’d been before. The tightness in my chest, that inability to breathe was almost unbearable.

Lying on my side, I ran my finger down the line of his square jaw on my large pad. I traced the side of my thumb down the center of his chin. Closing my eyes, I could still feel the brush of his lips over mine. The memory of his beard scratching the sensitive skin behind my neck made me shiver. I remembered him holding my breasts, pulling them into his mouth, and...

“Dammit!” I shouted, standing up fast and kicking the side of the couch as hard as I could. “Ouch!” I screamed, dropping back again. “Shit shit shit!!!”

Pulling my foot up, I jerked off my sock. My toe wasn’t broken but it was already dark red. “Shit!” I hissed, standing and limping to the bathroom. “Fuck you, Slayde Bennett.” I growled, turning on the water. “You are fucking not going to make me feel this way. You can kiss my ass.”

I jerked my hair up into a messy bun and stepped into the tub. I’d shower and I’d brush my teeth. Then I’d get in my bed and read a good book, and I would not be jerked around by a guy. Not ever again.

* * *

Just like clockwork, my eyes popped open at six a.m. I threw the covers back and stood quickly, then sat back down again with a hiss. “Dammit!”

My toe was swollen today, and I could barely walk. It only made me angrier. A good night’s sleep had not made me feel better. I was ready to beat the shit out of something. Limping over to my drawers, I pulled out my exercise clothes and jerked them on. I’d be at the gym in thirty minutes.

The sound of gloves slamming against canvass met my ears before I’d even rounded the corner of the small boxing room. I paused for a moment, taking several deep breaths, trying to decide how I felt as I watched him move. His muscles flexed with every stroke, breaking into deep lines and taut ripples, causing my fingers to burn with desire to touch him. God, he was gorgeous.

It didn’t matter. I felt fine. That was how I felt. Fine. Lifting my chin, I limped confidently to the bench, dropping my bag beside it like always and pulling on my first glove. Slayde didn’t stop punching. He didn’t even pause. I didn’t even care. I pushed my hand into one of the gloves and struggled to get on the other. I’d always been able to get both gloves on before. No reason why I couldn’t do it now.

Fumbling with the second glove, I hadn’t noticed the punching stop. I was distracted and mad when I felt his hand on my elbow.

“Need me to help you?” I hated the way his voice made my insides squeeze.

“No, thank you,” I said without even looking up.

He ignored my response and took the glove out of my hand, holding it at the center of his chest just like yesterday.

“I said I could do it.” I cut my eyes at him before pushing my hand into the glove. Taking my hand back, I waited, unsure what to do next. “Are you almost finished?”

He looked down at his shoes as if he were trying to find the correct answer.

“It’s a simple yes or no question, Slayde.”

“Kenny...” he exhaled deeply before pressing his lips together. “You can have this. I’ll work on the speed bag.”

Angry or not, I couldn’t help watching him go to the small bag hanging from the ceiling. I’d always wanted to master that little bastard, ever since it knocked me in the head. Now he was walking over to it just as confident as I knew he’d be.

Waiting, I watched as he lifted his arms, elbows high and began the bicycle movement, knocking it quickly in a rhythm as his biceps and shoulders flexed.

Right, tat tat

Left, tat-tat

Right, tat-tat

Left, tat-tat

He kept going and going, a ripped statue of boxing gorgeousness, just like nothing had happened. Turning to the heavy bag, I decided if he didn’t care, neither did I. Holding out my fist, I stepped a little more than arm’s length away. Proper stance, elbows tight at my ribs, shoulders up, I tucked my chin and threw a series of punches.

Right, left, right, right, left hook

Left, right, left, left, right hook

Right, left, right, left, right, left

Left, right, left, right, left, right

Faster and faster I hit it, chasing after the release of that tension in my chest. The warm hand on my shoulder caused me to let out a little yell. I jumped forward, holding the bag as if it were my opponent.

“I’m sorry.” Slayde’s glove was off, and the dark green 21 was plainly visible on the hand touching me. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“What do you want?”

His eyes hadn’t met mine. His brow was furrowed like it always was before, and he focused on my gloved hands.

“I’m sorry I left yesterday without a word. It wasn’t until I got home that I remembered I don’t have your number.”

My back was to the bag, and I only waited. So he didn’t have my number. Bayville wasn’t that big, and he knew where I lived. His eyes met mine then, and I hated that my stomach tingled in response.

“Last night I thought it might be better if we took a little break, make sure we’re not moving too fast.”

Pressing my lips together, I nodded. “Okay.” I started to turn and resume my workout, but he stopped me.

“Can I have your number?”

“Sure,” I said with a shrug. I wasn’t about to let him know how much this was killing me inside. “Where’s your phone?”

He pulled out a small burner phone, and I typed in my digits.

“Thanks,” he said, saving it.

“Don’t share it with anyone.” I turned and started hitting the bag again. As he left I heard him quietly answer.

“Don’t worry.”

* * *

Wednesday at the gym was absolutely miserable. I hated trying to act so perky and happy with my clients when I felt like my heart was breaking. Which was ridiculous! So what if I’d had the best sex of my life two glorious nights in a row? Who cared if he kept passing through the weight room taunting me with his sexy presence? I was a grown, professional woman. I did not need a man to make me happy. Much less a flaky one who ran at the first sign things might get serious.

“Thanks so much, Kenny.” My new-mother client gave me a squeeze before leaving the weight room, and I went straight to the juice bar ready to grab my things and get out of here.

“I hope I never piss you off as long as I live.” Mariska leaned forward on the bar grinning, her voice lowered. “You’re doing a kick-ass job freezing his nuts off.”

Shoving my key into my cubby, I picked up the matcha-tea smoothie she pushed toward me again. “Thanks. Hand me my bag, would ya?”

She reached down and picked up my purse from under the bar. “Your phone’s been going off all hour.”

That made me forget everything. “Mariska! Jesus! You’ve got to tell me when that happens. It could be Patrick!”

“Oh my god.” My friend looked like she might cry. “I didn’t even think of that, I’m so sorry!”

Digging out my phone, I didn’t recognize the number associated with the four texts I’d received. “No, it’s all good.” I reached across and squeezed her forearm. “It must be spam or something. I don’t know this number. It’s okay.”

Opening my text program, I silently read the first one: You have no idea how hard it was to leave you Monday night.

Then the next one: You have no idea how hard it was to leave without telling you goodbye yesterday.

My jaw dropped as I read the third: You have no idea how hard it was not to touch you this morning.

The last one sealed it: You have no idea how much it’s killing me that you won’t look at me right now. I’ll call you tonight.

“Oh my GOD!” Mariska cried. “What the hell are you reading? Is he sexting you?”

Blinking rapidly, I tried to curb the smile threatening to break my face. Being cool was very hard when my sex-god trainer-with-benefits or whatever he was sent me texts like this.

“I guess this is his way of apologizing.”

“I knew it!” She cried, practically jumping up and down. “I’m putting his name next to yours in pen for Friday.”

“Not so fast,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “He still has some explaining to do.”

“Oh, fuck that.” She rested her cheek on her hand, giving me a dreamy look. “When your face looks that happy, I know exactly what it means.”

“What does it mean?” My eyes were narrowed, but she had me figured out.

“It means this guy’s got some serious baby-daddy potential.”

“I have no intention of making a baby with anyone.” I threw my bags over my shoulder and grabbed my car keys. “At least not any time soon.”

* * *

Showered, fed, and snug on my sofa, I pulled out my large sketchpad and resumed work on Slayde’s portrait. His nose was small and perfect. I had it finished in no time. Then I moved to his full lips. Those done, I started on his dark hair. It wasn’t too long, but it was long enough to get messy in the ocean breeze around his forehead and ears. Not curly, but just the slightest bend. It was thick and soft and oh, so sexy to tangle my fingers in.

I was just finishing when my phone started buzzing at my side. I let it ring a few times before picking it up.

“Hello?” I did my best to act like I hadn’t been waiting for him to call.

“Kenny, hey. It’s me, Slayde. I hope you got my texts.”

“I did.” I tried to think of how I wanted to frame them. “They were informative.”

He breathed a laugh, and an involuntary shiver moved across my shoulders. I remembered so well how it felt to have his breath on my skin.

“I guess I have some explaining to do.” His voice was low, and I couldn’t help wondering if Mariska had tipped him off.

Putting down my charcoal pencil, I rubbed my forehead with my fingers. “I don’t like games, Slayde. If there’s something you want to say to me, please do. If not, just leave me alone, okay?”

“Okay,” his voice was quiet. “I want to see you again. Bad. But there are things you should know about me first.”

A charge raced through my stomach at his admission. I traced my thumb over his lips in the sketch I held. “Are you trying to warn me away from you?”

I heard him exhale. “I guess. I mean, no? God, Ken, I never expected to be in this position, and now you’re here, so beautiful and amazing...”

We were both quiet on the line.

“I finished my sketch of you. It’s pretty good if I say so myself.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“You can’t be sure it is,” I laughed. “You’ve never seen any of my work.”

“You’re right, but if you pursue your art the way you do everything else, you’re probably a master.”

“Hmm, flattery will get you everywhere.” He laughed, and I continued. “It’s very lifelike. I’m tracing my finger along that sexy line in your chin. Feel it?”

“Yes.”

Lightening flashed outside my window, but it was nothing like the flash that went off between my legs at that single word.

I rolled onto my side, putting the sketch on my coffee table. “It’s going to be stormy tonight.”

“It’s already storming here. You’ll probably be getting it in the next five minutes.”

“Mariska wants us to go to her place Friday night.” Closing my eyes, I imagined him beside me. “She’s actually a really good cook, and she makes the most amazing Turkish coffee.”

“Sounds great. Let’s do it.” The smile in his voice made me smile.

“I’m sorry I pushed you too fast.”

He was quiet a beat. “I’m sorry I left you alone.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

With a goodnight, we disconnected, and I slid my phone on the coffee table next to his sketch. Tracing my finger down the line of his jaw, I closed my eyes, feeling him with me through the night.

* * *

When I arrived in the small boxing room the next morning, he wasn’t there. I was confused, but I started my workout, pulling on my gloves and doing my drills. I was twenty minutes in when I felt his touch on my arm.

Stopping, I dropped my fists, wanting to charge straight into his arms, but I didn’t.

“Now I’m the sweaty mess,” I said, looking down at my body.

He smiled. “Too bad we can’t go for a swim in my living room.”

Frowning, I looked up at him. “Where were you?”

“I thought I’d do the ladies’ locker room before I met you. I think it was the wrong decision.”

That made me laugh. “Because now I need to use it?”

“No way.” He pulled me into a hug. “Because now I smell like toilet cleaner.” He pressed his face against my neck. “You smell like good, clean sweat.”

“Oh!” I tried to pull away, but his arms tightened around my waist.

“I’ve wanted to hold you like this for two days.”

I stopped struggling and wrapped my arms around his neck. It was crazy. We hadn’t really fought. In reality, we’d just had a misunderstanding. Still, being apart for forty-eight hours had felt like forty-eight years. I leaned back and placed my palms on his cheeks.

“I want you to kiss me.”

That sexy grin flashed across his lips just before they covered mine, parting them, his tongue finding mine. In a sweep, I was off my feet and we were right back where we’d left off.