6. Easton
6
EASTON
S hayla was the epitome of buttoned-up professionalism, and it was driving me crazy. I wanted to see the free spirited, passionate woman I'd met in that shadowy hallway. I longed to see her cut loose and let her guard down. But that seemed to be the furthest thing from her mind as she grilled me during the workshop. Quinn, Slater, and Maxwell watched on in nervous fascination, their gazes bouncing between us with each exchange.
I met her every challenge with confidence and expertise which only seemed to piss her off more. But I couldn’t help myself. Her anger gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction, and I reveled in it. It was the only time she showed even a sliver of emotion in my presence. Hell, I’d barely gotten a rise out of her when I took my shirt off, and she immediately turned her back on me. So I kept trying, goading her into verbally sparring with me the whole time. I wanted to see that fire, to watch that flame smothered deep inside her roar to life.
Still, I had to admit, she knew what she was doing. I was a hard man to impress, but Shayla was on top of her game. And she was thorough, going as far as to draw chains of amino acids and protein molecules on the dry erase board to explain protein synthesis. I’d never been more riveted by a science lesson in my life.
Though, it was rather difficult to concentrate on the curriculum when Shayla’s pants hugged her ass like a second skin, and her blouse dipped just low enough to show off a hint of cleavage. My eyes skimmed down her body appreciatively when her back was turned. Every inch of her was perfection, from her striking gray eyes to her full bow-shaped lips, and curves that made a man want to do sinful things to her body.
As our session drew to a close, I regretted that our time was almost up and was trying to think of a way to prolong it. I’d asked as many questions as I could come up with, even though I already knew most of the answers. Every time I raised my hand, she pursed her lips in annoyance before calling on me. It felt like being back in school. Too bad none of my teachers had ever been as hot as Shayla. Maybe I would’ve paid closer attention in class.
Before she dismissed us, she handed us each a folder. Ugh, not this again .
“What’s this for?” I asked, casually flipping through the pages.
“These are the recipes for the sample meal plan I included in your binder. I recommend trying as many of these as you can over the next week.”
“There’s just one problem,” I said, and she quirked a brow. “I don’t cook.” I left out the part where I had a personal chef in Boston and hadn’t found a suitable replacement since moving here.
“Maybe you should give it a try,” she deadpanned. She was so over my shit, and it was absurd how much of a thrill it gave me.
“Maybe you should teach me,” I replied, lowering my voice. Her breath caught, and her eyes flared at the heat in my tone. I felt the stares of my teammates on us, but I didn’t dare look away from the pupils dilating in Shayla’s gray irises. She seemed to shake herself, pinching her eyes closed for the briefest moment before settling her unimpressed gaze on me.
“There’s a QR code at the bottom of each page that will take you to an instructional video on my YouTube channel,” she announced, and my brows shot up in surprise. She had a YouTube channel? Why did it feel like watching her cook would be like watching porn? My dick stirred in my pants at the thought. I’d have to get control of myself before I stood since my gym shorts would do little to hide my growing erection. Still, I couldn’t resist an opportunity to taunt her.
“Hmm, I’ve never been very good at following along with those videos.” Not that I’d ever tried, but she didn’t need to know that. I rarely cooked, and when I did, it was simple stuff like grilled chicken or scrambled eggs, things you couldn’t mess up. “I think in-person instruction would be best,” I added, just to see how she'd react. Her lips pressed into a thin line and she huffed, crossing her arms. All it did was accentuate her ample breasts.
“You’d have to sign up for one of my cooking classes for that,” she sniped but then winced, as though she hadn’t meant to reveal that information. I hadn’t known she offered classes, and from the looks of it, she regretted mentioning it. I tucked that nugget of information away to come back to later.
“I’m pretty hopeless in the kitchen. I might need a one-on-one session,” I added with a teasing lilt to my tone. Suddenly, I pictured her wearing an apron with nothing underneath and my cock, which had been at half mast, was now standing at full attention.
I was walking a thin line flirting with Shayla like this, especially in front of my teammates, but getting her riled up was quickly becoming my favorite pastime. Her jaw flexed, and she ground her teeth together.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Walker , that’s not a service I offer.”
“Maybe you could make an exception,” I said, flashing her my most charming smile. “For me,” I added as though that would sweeten the deal. A private cooking lesson with Shayla sounded like the perfect opportunity to make up for kicking her out of my hotel room a couple weeks ago.
“I don’t make exceptions,” she replied, uncrossing her arms and planting her hands on the table in front of me. She leaned forward, and my eyes dropped to where the swells of her breasts threatened to spill over her neckline. I swallowed hard, momentarily mesmerized by the glorious sight in front of me, but her sharp words brought me back to reality, and my gaze snapped to hers when she replied.
“Not even for you .”