Page 65 of The Knockout Rule

She loved this part, especially today. Being close to him, feeling secure in their mutual feelings, no secrets between them. Except there was one, she remembered in a rush: her father’s illness, which would be harder to hide as she and Eric got closer. Eric still believed he’d been the only source of her last panic attack.

“Of course you like this part,” she said, wishing she could confide in him. Sharing her dad’s Parkinson’s would have to wait until after his match. “This is probably the only time you sit still.”

“That’s not the reason. I get to watch you. Have your hands on me.”

There were those butterflies again, dipping and diving and fuzzing up her brain. “As long as I don’t massage your thighs.” But she’d love a repeat of the last time, watching the large bulge in his shorts display proof of his desire.

He shrugged. “Won’t mind now. As long as you don’t mind my body’s reaction.”

She darted a look at his groin, and hunger tugged at her fiercely. With her history of dating hipster types, she’d never had sex with someone this big and strong. Incredibly muscular, everywhere. What would it feel like to have all that power pushing into her? To fall to her knees and take him deep into her mouth?

“Did they fix the paint color in your office bathroom?” he asked, smooth and easy, clueless to her wild fantasies. Or maybe he wasn’t clueless. His shorts were tented slightly, and his eyes were all heavy-lidded fire, scorching a path over her body. Still, he was offering her control. Keeping their pace slow and gradual, making sure she was okay.

She blinked hard, forced a few steadying breaths. “This week. But the website’s giving me a headache. I need it running before I get home.”

“I can help you.”

It was such a simple offer, kind and generous. One minute he looked ready to devour her, the next he was being a thoughtful friend, their sexual tension returning to a simmer. More proof taking this step with him had been the right decision. “I forgot you were a tech genius, Rick Rosner.”

“Are you asking me to strip for you, Isla Slade?”

She liked that he picked up on her joke right away—Rick Rosner’s high IQ and odd stripping history their own private joke. She wanted more in-jokes with Eric, for them to glance at each other from across a crowded room, one smile or raised eyebrow filled with a novel’s worth of communication. For now, she’d revel in their shared feelings. Being open and honest with each other for the first time. “Stripping in due time. Until then, I’d love the website help. Maybe we can work on it tonight.”

“Count me in.” But he stiffened slightly. A tiny shift, impossible to miss while she moved the ultrasound probe over his skin.

She studied his furrowed brow. “Does something hurt?”

He fidgeted on the table, adjusted his position slightly. “Is your dating profile still live?”

Oh. Jealousy. Insecurity. From this man the world called Brick Smash.

She focused on her hands moving as they should, tried to get the ground to settle below her feet, while the rest of her wanted to float away. “I’ll be deleting it after this session.”

His body softened in an instant. “Good,” he said, gruff.

20

Eric flicked between the two screens on his laptop, unsure which background option worked best for Isla’s website. “Sticking with white is clean and classy, but the textured dark green is also cool. Gives off a nature vibe. Which do you like better?”

When Isla didn’t reply, he glanced at her. She was beside him on his hotel room couch, her legs tucked under her. Instead of watching his screen, her eyes were locked on him, hazy as though lost in a dream.

“Yes?” she said, her voice rising in uncertainty.

He smiled, a rush of heat pushing at his ribs. They’d made solid progress building her website tonight, had figured out the general layout and pages needed. He loved brainstorming with Isla, watching her scrunch her nose when puzzling through a problem. He also loved that she’d been distracted at times, watching him with that hazy, blissed-out expression.

Sitting next to her hadn’t been easy for him either—the delicate smell of eucalyptus teasing him, the soft brush of her body when she’d lean over him to point at his laptop screen. Around her, he was on the constant edge of arousal, but he was determined to keep his wants on the backburner. Support her and her business any way he could.

Messing with her distracted state was a different story. “I knew you’d like the idea. We should get going before they close. I’ll just be there for moral support, though. I won’t get in the shark tank.”

She froze. “Shark tank, what?”

“I’ll take lots of pictures. You can put one up at your office.”

“I don’t do sharks.”

“But you just said yes. I showed you the shark activity on my screen and asked if you wanted to dive in that tank, and you said yes.”

Her gaze shot to his laptop, where her website-in-progress loomed. “You are such a liar.”