Page 53 of Every Move You Make

“She is,” he nods.

“But not as pretty as me, right?”

The pale skin of his neck turns pink. “You, uh, you’re bothpretty.”

Needing to see his face, I step back and lean against the wall in front of him. I cross my arms and wave my head around like I’m fluffing my hair, even though it’s tied up in a bun. “It’s the gorgeous long hair and muscles, I know.”

Isaiah fails to stifle a nervous laugh, and Chester takes the opportunity to leap off my shoulder and join his boyfriend on the window perch.

“How is it that a man like you didn’t make a move on her sooner? You know, before you became her coach. You’ve known her for a long time, right?”

“Since college.”

“It’s a shame,” Itsk.A shock of nerves prickles under my skin, but I tamp them down and stick to my plan. “You know, I think I’ve had a change of heart. You wouldn’t mind if I asked her out, would you?”

His eyes go wide and he stops his set. “What?”

It’s high time someone makes a fucking move between the three of us.

“I thought you said you don’t date your clients.”

“Rules were made to be broken,” I lie, hoping that thought niggles its way into the caveman part of his brain—all the while hoping that I can keep believing it myself.

When Isaiah’s mouth gapes like a fish, I take my time scanning his burly body from head to toe. Even with a deer-in-the-headlights look about him, he has such handsome features. His ocean-blue eyes are striking against his pale, but slightly tanned skin, and his lush beard is almost as shiny as his inky brunette hair. He’s wearing old rugby shorts and a T-shirt that’s tight around his biceps and chest but skims his round belly. I wonder if he has hair on his stomach, too. My cock thickens at the thought.

Fuck, I love bears.

“But,” he swallows, his voice shaky, “You said you were just her wingman. Just helping her out.”

Where did that possessiveness go from the last time we talked? I distinctly remember him saying, “She’s mine,” followed by growling.Hmm. Does my big bear have a submissive side to him? Interesting…

“I changed my mind. I think I’ll take her out again,” I say lightly, pushing off the wall and gesturing for him to lie down on the padded table for his neck flexor sets. When he tentatively does, I continue, any trace of a smile gone. I replace it with a stern, slow voice. “And this time, we won’t be interrupted by security, will we?”

Isaiah is visibly shaken but nods in a way that confirms my earlier suspicion. He likes being put in his place—told what to do, even at the expense of his own desires. Maybe… this is exactly what he desires.

He’s not security at the club anymore, but he still most likely has connections. If he’s really a good boy, he’s going to do as I say. But I have a feeling he doesn’t need to know when I’m taking her because he’s going to show up regardless.

It’s time to see just how desperate Isaiah Johanssen is.

Chapter 22

Sidetraxxx

Dell

Pulling up to Robyn’s townhouse Friday night, I take in my surroundings. Last time I was here, I brought her home from the club and we were both in some kind of intertwined emotional mess. I didn’t pay attention to just how nice her place was. These townhouses can’t be more than a year old.

I check my outfit in the reflection of her large windows on the small porch. Dark jeans, dressy cowboy boots, and a white short sleeve dress shirt finished with my ever-present gold chain, watch, and a few rings. I mean, come on, how else will people know I’m bisexual without the rings?

When she opens her door, warm interior light covers me as I stand on her front porch. “Hi,” she smiles.

“Lord have mercy,” I reply with a slight head shake, taking in her outfit. It’s the dress she was wearing the day I met her four years ago—the day I pretend to not remember. It’s a short, pink dress with the straps tied into bows at the shoulders. The square-cut neckline accentuates her toned chest and I find myself fighting the urge to untie one of the bows. She’s pulled her hair back in a bun, just like mine, but hers is actually styled.

Soooo pretty.

Oh shit, I’m just staring at her. I shake myself out of it. “Sorry. These are for you,” I say, offering the bouquet of calla lilies I bought this morning for her. “You’re stunning.”

Taking them in surprise, she gives them a whiff andgestures for me to come inside. “Thank you. You look really nice, too. Did you know these were my favorite?”

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