Broken Course (21 page)

"I HAD no idea you did yoga," Leo says as I sit between his legs, staring out at the waves crashing on the beach.

"What?" I look at him over my shoulder.

"Johnson told me y’all know each other from yoga."

I quickly turn back around and bite my lip. Of course he did. He obviously remembers when I got pissed and told the staff at Foundations that I thought that the yoga class they were trying to force me to take was the beginnings of a religious cult. He laughed his ass off, which in turn made me laugh my ass off. The staff, however, didn’t find me even remotely humorous and made me take the class anyway.

"Yeah, I don’t go much anymore," I answer, trying to stifle my laugh.

"Yeah, you didn’t strike me as a yoga girl."

When I spin around, he’s grinning down at me. I drape my legs over his and wrap my arms around his neck.

"What kind of girl do I strike you as?" I ask curiously.

"I don’t know. Down to earth. Someone who doesn’t follow all the hottest trends, but rather forges their own path." He kisses the tip of my nose.

"I like that you see me like that."

"How do you see me?"

"Easy," I answer without hesitation.

He gives me a put-off look. "Hmm. I’m not sure how to take that."

"Oh hush. I can be a little anxious and high strung sometimes, and you have this natural ease about you that doesn’t allow my mind to spiral. Just something as simple as the way you touch me or the stories you tell me—it keeps me grounded."

"I like that you see me like that," he says, repeating my words back to me, and this time, he kisses my mouth.

"Hey. Can I ask you a question?" I lean away but only long enough to tangle my legs around his waist.

"Sure. Then I’m taking you up to bed." He slides his tongue into my mouth, kissing me with such passion that I have no choice but to join him. His hands drift down over my breasts but pause when we hear voices down the beach. He lets out a growl then drops his forehead to mine. "Ask."

"What’s your tattoo mean?"

"And time!" he exclaims, looking down at his watch. "Five weeks, six days, eight hours. This might be a new record."

"What?" I ask, thoroughly confused.

"Most women ask me about it the moment they see it. I’m actually impressed, Sarah."

"Thanks?" I respond.

He laughs, pulling his shirt up to his shoulders so I can see the tattoo on his side.

I trace my fingers over the top line of the ink and ask, "Who’s Liv?"

"What? Holy shit, they forget to put the ‘e’ on the end?" he teases.

"Hilarious," I deadpan.

"I had a serious girlfriend in college. I fell for her hard." He slides my hand down to the word ‘love’
for a second before moving it on to ‘lie.’ "Then she started sleeping with my best friend. They kept it a secret for months until he finally told me the truth the night before I was about to propose."

"Oh damn," I whisper, and he nods his head in agreement.

"So, yeah, it’s actually three separate tattoos." His shoulders tense and a flash of pain flickers in his gorgeous eyes.

For a second, I stare. It’s so unlike the Leo I know that it almost hurts me to see it. I need to wipe away that look as quickly as possible, so I reach up and cup his face.

"I should probably send her a ‘Thanks for being a whore’ Hallmark card. It’s the least I can do for the woman who handed me the most amazing man I’ve ever met."

"I’d hardly say all that," he responds, brushing his lips across my mouth.

"I would. I might even go so far as to send her a fruit basket." I crawl closer to close the invisible gap between us.

Leo smiles. "She hates apples."

"An all-apple fruit basket then," I whisper, kissing the underside of his jaw.

He groans and pulls me impossibly closer. "Christ,
ángel
."

"And look at the bright side. At least her name wasn’t something ridiculously long like Seraphina-Jo-Lynn." I try to kiss him again, but Leo leans back to catch my eyes. I have no idea what that look means, but a very slow smile lifts the corners of his lips.

Suddenly, I’m flying through the air as he flips me to my back. I let out a startled scream, but Leo’s mouth absorbs the sound as he crushes it over mine. Holy hell. What the fuck just happened? His hands are in my hair and his kiss is rabid. I try to keep up, but it’s worthless—Leo’s gone savage.

"Goddamn it, Sarah." He trails kisses down my neck.

"What did I do?" I ask breathily.

"
Tu lo haces muy fácil
."

"English," I moan as his hand sneaks under my skirt and into my panties. "Fuck, Leo."

"Mmm,
ángel
, You’re wet. I believe that’s my cue." He jumps up and pulls me to my feet after him.

My head is spinning from how quickly this started. However, he’s right. I am wet and I
crave
him. So as he takes my hand and heads back toward our hotel, I follow behind him without hesitation or any other conversation.

Two weeks later…

"BABY, YOU ready yet? We’re going to be late," Sarah coos as she walks into my bedroom.

"We’re always late. I don’t think we should mess with our perfect record now." Tugging a tight, gray T-shirt over my head, I give her a kiss.

"You’re probably right."

"Sarah, I’m always right." I give her the best stern expression I can fake.

"Oh please. You’re so full of yourself."

"Well, if we stand here any longer, you’re about to be full of me too." I wink and allow my hand to drift down to her ass. "How was work,
ángel
?"

"It was horrible. I hate that damn job so much. I need to go back to school, because if I have to work as a receptionist for the rest of my life, I think I’ll lose my mind. What about you? How was your day?" Sarah asks, rubbing her hands over my chest.

"It was pretty good actually. I got a new client. It’s a politician who wants two men full time. So it looks like I’ll be hiring some new guys pretty soon."

"Oh, that’s fantastic! Full time? Any chance he wants a female bodyguard? And when I say bodyguard, I mean personal shopper, secretary, or dog walker?"

"Dog walker? Guardian hasn’t dabbled in those services yet. I’m pretty sure you’re completely overqualified if I do though. I know you went to college. What’d you major in?"

"English," she answers with a shrug.

"Well, that’s a worthless major," I tease.

"Hey!" she exclaims, sliding a hand under my shirt and raking her nails up my side.

"Okay. Okay. I give up. It’s an extremely useful major."

"No, it’s not." She rolls her eyes and gives me a knowing smirk.

I release her and head to my closet. "We need to get out of here," I say, pulling on the baby-blue button-down I know she loves. It’s funny, because ever since she mentioned it the last time I wore it, I’ve loved it too. I’m not particularly attached to the shirt. I’m utterly addicted to the way her eyes heat when she sees me wearing it.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she calls from outside my closet.

"It’s fine. Erica is dying to get out of the house. She’s also been harassing me for weeks to meet you."

"Yeah, but aren’t you worried someone will bother them if we go out. Slate’s pretty famous."

"He is, but I’m bringing three men, and if for some reason things get out of hand, we can just leave. Besides, we’re going to that hole-in-the-wall place that Caleb suggested." I emerge from the closet.

"What if—"

"Ángel, let me worry about the what-ifs. This is what I do for a living, remember? It will be fine. I promise. Now, are you worried about meeting Erica or Slate being asked for an autograph?"

"I love this shirt." She leans up on her tiptoes and whispers her lips across mine.

I ignore her compliment, unwilling to let her change the subject. "It’s okay if you’re nervous. Although you have absolutely no reason to be. Emma and Caleb are still coming, right?"

"They are. And thank you for inviting them. Caleb has been giddy all freaking week about meeting Slate. He’s a huge boxing fan."

"Yeah, I know. I was a dick last time we all went out. Maybe this will smooth things over."

"Oh, I’m pretty sure this will more than just smooth it over."

"Good. Then let’s get out of here." I kiss her nose and step away.

I was preoccupied when she walked in, but as we prepare to leave, I finally take the time to slide my eyes over her tight-fitting black pants and heels. She’s wearing what, on any other woman, would be described as a conservative white top, but somehow, Sarah’s sensual body turns it into something sexy as hell.

"You look gorgeous by the way."

"Is it okay? I wanted to go casual but still look nice."

"Well, I’m not sure ‘nice’
is how I would describe that outfit. Sex kitten may be more fitting, but either way, you definitely look amazing. Now, lets go before I’m tempted to undress you."

CALEB WASN’T lying. From the outside, the restaurant is a fucking hole in the wall. However, when we get inside, I’m happy to find that it’s actually a semi-nice place. Very quaint. All the furnishings are new and the smell of fresh garlic made my stomach growl the second we stepped through the door.

"Get a room," Sarah teases when we find Caleb and Emma are already sitting at the small bar, having a drink. Emma’s sitting on a barstool with Caleb standing close between her legs, whispering something in her ear.

"Hey! You’re only a few minutes late tonight," Emma laughs, standing up to pull Sarah into a hug.

"Yeah, well, we didn’t want to be too late. I know how you love to take off your bra and put on yoga pants as soon as the sun goes down," Sarah smarts back.

"Your sarcasm would hurt if it weren't the truth."

"What’s up?" Caleb extends toward me.

"Not much. What have you guys been up to?" I ask as Emma gives me a friendly hug.

"Well, I’ll tell you one thing. We haven’t been gallivanting around Puerto Rico," she says sarcastically, giving Caleb an unimpressed smirk.

"Oh for fuck’s sake," he responds, pulling a sip off his beer.

We all start laughing and fall into a casual conversation.

"What you drinking,
ángel
?" I ask Sarah, who is involved in a very animated discussion about her boss with Emma.

"Um. I don’t know." She toys with her bottom lip and glances up to Caleb.

He stands there for a moment before quirking an eyebrow. "What?" he asks, clearly confused.

"I was thinking about maybe having a glass of wine," she replies nervously, causing Emma to let out an excited squeak through tight lips.

"Jesus, Sarah. Yeah, of course. Come on. Let me buy it for you." Caleb turns to the bar.

"No, you don’t have to do that. I just… I don’t know…" she trails off, wrapping her arm tight around my waist.

"It’s fine. I swear. Come on. My treat."

"Yeah, okay." She smiles weakly and looks up at me.

My only answer is to give her a wink and squeeze her tight into my side. But that’s all it takes with Sarah. She lets out a sigh and her tense posture disappears from the simple gesture.

The bartender places a round in front of Caleb, who passes them out. Lastly, he hands a wine glass to Sarah and smiles pridefully.