“Yeah, no kidding. My muffin melted a little just thinking about it. You may continue,” Reagan said.
“And that was it. I offered to return the favor, but then he talked about how it was just for me and that was fun for him, and it doesn’t always have to be an even trade-off and whatever.” Kara waved that away. “I don’t get it. I was willing. I was basically putty in his hands. He knows I want him. And it’s not like we haven’t already done it. What happened?”
“Kid factor?” Reagan guessed, taking a bite out of her muffin and kicking her heels a little in delight. “I really don’t get how you make these muffins without all the normal ingredients and they’re still so good.”
“In an effort to avoid the expensive boxed mix, I experimented a lot. And no, he clearly had no problem with the oral part in the same apartment as Zach. He just . . . stopped everything.”
“He stopped himself. Because he wanted to give you a special moment. It’s sweet. Stop overthinking it. Be grateful for what sounds like a mind-blowing orgasm and call it a win.”
“A man who can give you an orgasm and leave without pushing for sex is definitely scoring points,” Reagan agreed.
“He didn’t leave. I mean, not right away.” She blushed, then told them about falling asleep, only to scramble to make it appear as though they were having a morning yoga private.
Both Marianne and Reagan spent several minutes laughing at the mental image Kara painted. “So he’s there doing sun salutations, wearing the same thing he wore last night, and Zach had no clue?” Marianne asked through gasps.
“He’s ten, and a boy. They don’t tend to make the fashion connection.”
“And he let you put him through morning yoga to appease your son. Extra bonus points,” was Reagan’s comment.
Marianne added, “Go back over there tonight and screw his brains out as a thank-you.”
Kara stared at Marianne. “I can’t. Zach. I can’t afford to keep hiring a babysitter so I can get laid.”
“What’s your schedule like today?”
“Class at nine, class at ten, class at one, private at—”
“Aha!” Reagan pointed at her with the muffin. “Lunch nookie. They have a three-hour break for lunch, from eleven to two today. Be at his house, waiting for him, after you get done with your second class. You’ve got two hours for a nooner. Make them count.”
Kara looked to her friend to confirm. Marianne nodded with a smile. “You deserve this happiness. Don’t let future junk get in the way.”
“I haven’t told him. About not being able to leave, about the reality of no future.”
“You will. And something tells me Graham isn’t about to take that as an answer. But either way, you’ll get there. Now before we leave, let’s—damn,” Marianne muttered under her breath as she heard voices. “Here come . . . hey, Levi. Hey, Nikki.”
The two walked hand in hand, shocking all three women. Nikki quickly pulled her hand from Levi’s, blushing and turning away to store her bag in a drawer. Levi looked supremely pleased with himself. Maybe Kara wasn’t the only one who’d gotten some the night before.
“Okay, I’m heading out. Levi, Nikki, would you like a muffin before I go?”
Levi took one and gave her a smile. “Thank you.”
He was such a shy boy, and she worried about his heart when Nikki inevitably broke it. “You’re welcome. Nikki?”
“Too much fat,” the young woman said, wrinkling her nose at the basket Kara held out. “Nope.”
Uh-huh. “I’m out. I’ll, uh, keep you updated on the events as they unfold.”
Both her friends grinned at her as she walked out.
CHAPTER
13
“I’ll bring Simpson some food during lunch, since he’s taking the shift here between practices.” Greg nodded at the youngest of the team, who had changed into street clothes and was now settling against the folded-in bleachers with a tablet to watch a movie. “Probably get something for myself, too, and just eat here with him. Reagan’s got a meeting so she’s not available for me to bug.”
“You’re getting fast food, aren’t you?” When Greg scowled, Brad shook his head. “Nasty. Your body—”
“Is a temple. I know, Grandpa.” Greg clapped Graham on the shoulder. “How are we friends with this guy?”
“He’s got the hot trainer hookup.”
“Ah, right,” Greg mused as Marianne exited the training room and waved to Brad. He followed without another word for them. “He’s toast. If they’re not married in a year, I’ll eat my boots.”
“I doubt it happens that fast.” Graham watched as the two interns followed Marianne out. The young blonde paused, looking back toward the gym and the solo Simpson sitting there, then kept walking.
Were they being too obvious with guard duty? If people started noticing the guys hanging around the gym for a purpose, it could backfire.
“I’m heading home. I could use a nap.”
Greg wiggled his eyebrows in a crude gesture. “Yeah? Late night?”
“Yeah. I got my ass handed to me. Twice.”
That had his friend’s brows lifting in surprise. “What?”