Page 30 of Crazy Love

“I’ll do whatever you tell me to do, Addy.” My voice is raspy and she sits up straighter. “I’ll do my job, I’ll train hard, and I’ll eat whatever you want.”

Her grip tightens on the pen, her mouth parting. “So agreeable.” Her lips twitch as she tries to hold back her smile and fails. “I’m glad. Because fueling your body properly is very important.”

“Teach me your ways,” I say, and not gonna lie, the flirtation is as thick as my dick in here.

“Oh, I intend to.”

There it is. That flash of sass that is seriously addictive.

She clears her throat. “Well, I’ll show you the tentative plan I’d drawn up for you, and we can change anything you’d rather not do. But I’m glad you’re trusting me…because we’ll be in eachother’s space all the time. It’ll really help if we’re…on the same page with all this.”

Does she not know that the thought of her in my space all the time is all I want? I want to argue with her and make up and kiss her, kiss her, kiss her. What is this obsession with her mouth? I want to talk to her for hours and hear everything she has to say. She has turned me into someone I don’t recognize and I don’t know up from down at the moment.

My eyes are fixated on the way she moves her lips so perfectly.

“Penn?” she says, tilting her head.

“Oh, sorry. What did you say?”

“Would you like to see the plan?”

I nod, and when she motions for me to move around to her side of the desk to see her screen, I realize I’m in trouble. The tent in my athletic shorts is not messing around. “Uh…”

She pauses and waits for me to say something.

Not a single useful word comes out of my mouth. I’m like a mass void, except for the very visible, very unfortunate problem bobbing against my shorts, begging to be let out.

“I’ll be right there,” I say, grabbing one of her folders and trying to move discreetly around to her side of the desk.

“Oh, good. That’s your folder. Take a look in there too, and make sure I’ve got everything right…your BMI, etcetera.”

I open the folder and nod. “Mm-hmm. Yes, helpful.”

“Penn, it’s upside down.”

I glance at the folder. Fuck. It is.

Now that I’m over here, it’s only getting worse. She smells citrusy, and the way she’s leaning forward, from this angle, I can see the tiniest hint of cleavage. Not enough because she’s buttoned too high, but?—

“You okay?” she asks.

I nod and flip the folder around and fuck me, it slips. I fumble to catch it, but it’s too late. It drops. Leaving my dick at her exact eye level.

Her gaze flicks down, her mouth dropping. And I swear on my entire career, time slows to a crawl.

Oh, hell.

She lets out a choked sound, like she’s trying to swallow a laugh, but it’s not working. I don’t blame her. If the roles were reversed, I’d be on the floor.

I hustle to get the folder off the floor, wincing, and hold up the barricade in front of me once again.

The room is silent for a few seconds.

And then…

“You good, Penn?” she asks, her voice a little too innocent.

“Fine,” I grit out, willing myself to look away, but I can’t. Instead I think about cold showers, tax season, and that time I got food poisoning at training camp. I even think of Martha, Bowie’s little scary-ass hairless dog.

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