Captured Heart

5. Aleksandras

T he gym is loud as hell today. Metal clanking. The sharp slap of sneakers against treadmill belts. Guys grunting like they’re carrying the weight of the world on their backs. None of it fazes me. My world is narrowed down to the solid rubber body of the punching bag in front of me. Each time my fist makes contact, the bag swings back and jerks forward like it’s taunting me, daring me to hit harder.

So, I do.

This is a mistake. Coming here was a mistake. I’ve already got a plan tomorrow to get into her house. And it’s a solid plan. More solid than the last one, and it doesn’t require me to spend another second with her until tomorrow. After what happened on Thursday, that’s what I should want. I said too much. I showed too much. She’s a mark, just an obstacle I have to work around to get to those files.

I throw another punch, harder this time, my knuckles burning under the wraps. I’m angry at myself because somewhere during that conversation I lost sight of who and what Katelyn Akiyama actually is to me.

Her soft voice, her warm demeanor, just her sheer innocence sucked me in, and I fucked up. I told things I’d never told anyone. She got me to open up in a way I’ve never done before. Even after replaying it in my head a million times, I still don’t know how I slipped up like that. There’s a calmness about her that’s so alluring, so disarming that I feel like I can be myself around her.

But I can’t be myself around her. Myself is a hardened criminal and I need to remind myself that I’m not here to fraternize. I’m here to do a job. After my misstep, I resolved to limit our interactions as much as possible.

And that worked just fine yesterday. I completely avoided her for the entire day. But see, the problem with tracking her location is that it’s pretty fucking hard to stay away from her when I know exactly where she is all the time. Yesterday, I managed to control the urge and hold strong. But today, I caved like a cheap tent. I saw she was on her way over here and got straight into Morty’s truck.

I want to see her again. The urge is so strong it feels like a need.

Her presence is soothing, so different from the harshness I’ve known all my life. Both in and out of prison, I’ve been exposed to the worst kinds of men. Men who were cruel and merciless. I’ve witnessed brutality in its most callous and gruesome form.

Katelyn is the opposite of all that. Her lighthearted nature is an addictive elixir, something I want more of. And it’s so easy to get caught up in it, in her . In a weird way, her naivety is intoxicating. She’s so untainted, so oblivious to the evil lurking in this world, and being around her makes me wish I was as blissfully unaware as she is.

Fuck, she’s messing with my head in the worst way.

The punching bag jerks again as I land another hit, sweat dripping from my brow. I rip off my T-shirt, using it to wipe the perspiration from my face before tossing it on the floor. This chick is an unnecessary distraction. What happened on Thursday can’t happen again. That kind of sloppiness will land me right back in jail.

I know this, and I know full well that avoiding her until tomorrow is what’s best right now. Yet here I am, waiting for her to come through those doors.

And then she does.

Katelyn walks in, oblivious to the fact that my entire body tenses at the sight of her. She doesn’t even look my way and heads straight for the locker rooms, her water bottle dangling from one hand. For a second, I think about leaving. I could still walk out, pretend I didn’t see her, stick to the plan.

But I don’t move.

She comes back out, dressed in leggings and a tank top. It’s plain, barely revealing any skin, but it shapes every curve in the most enticing way. One look at her, and I give in without a fight.

“Hey, Rebel,” I call out as she heads toward the leg machines.

She stops mid-stride and turns to look up at me but doesn’t greet me back.

I walk to the edge of the ring, resting my forearms on the top rope. “I see you’re throwing caution to the wind again. Don’t you usually only come to the gym at five?”

She crosses her arms and glares at me, still not offering one word in response.

“You mad?”

“Sort of. And we’re not kids, so I’m not going to pretend like you didn’t run off on me on Thursday just to make this conversation less awkward. Why did you freak out and leave so abruptly?”

I like that. Direct. To the point. Doesn’t back down. Those are qualities I can respect. This slightly feisty side isn’t something I expected.

“I didn’t freak out.”

“Please don’t insult me by lying. It’s not a good look.”

She purses those pretty, pert lips, seemingly more annoyed now. Her face is demanding an answer, and if I want tomorrow to proceed as planned, I’d better give her one.

“I’m not lying. And I didn’t freak out. But...I told you some stuff that I’ve never told anyone before...and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like how much information I gave you. I didn’t like how quickly you got it out of me. I just...didn’t like it. I didn’t want to divulge more...so I left. It’s as simple as that. If that upset you, I’m sorry, but...talking about my mom isn’t something I’m comfortable with.”

Understanding flickers in her eyes, and her expression softens, becoming slightly more playful. “I mean, it was a little dramatic, but I guess I can accept that.”

“So, we’re cool?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Get up here.”

Her lips purse again, and she’s back to being unimpressed. “Do you ever ask for anything nicely? Or do you always just bark out orders like that?”

I know exactly what she’s referring to. After working for Victor for so many years, it’s a habit that’s ingrained in me. When you’re leading a heist, barking orders is the only form of communication or someone might end up in a body bag. But I’m not leading a heist right now, so I dial it back a fraction and try to be...nice.

“Get up here... please .”

“That’s marginally better,” she says, a slight giggle in her voice.

She reaches out, and I grab her hand to help her up. I hold the ropes open for her as she climbs into the ring. She bumps into me and quickly steps back. Her eyes roam over my bare chest before gliding down the tattoos on my arm and a blush rises up her neck and onto her cheeks.

“Everything okay?” I ask when the silence stretches on too long.

“Uh...yeah. Just...I just wasn’t expecting...” She gestures to my torso. “... all that . Sort of...took me by surprise. The chest...and the abs...and the tattoos—” She abruptly snaps her head up to look at my face. “Is there a reason you wanted me here?”

The air between us is charged, rapid sparks of electricity flitting back and forth. It makes the moment slightly awkward because we’re staring at each other. She’s undressing the rest of me with her eyes. I’m picturing her naked. It’s...intense, but I say nothing about it. There are other things I need to focus on, anyway.

“Yeah. Do you know any form of self-defense?”

She shakes her head, looking genuinely confused. “Not really. Should I?”

While I find her blissful unawareness appealing on some level, that answer irritates the ever-loving shit out of me. She doesn’t know what might be coming her way or the potential danger that lies ahead. She’s oblivious to every damn thing Victor has planned for her. Including me.

If things don’t go my way, I’ll still get half my money and can disappear without a trace. But I need to make sure she can at least defend herself if Victor’s goons come after her.

“Every woman should know the basics. Do you mind if I teach you a few tricks?”

She needs a moment to think about that because not only did she break her routine to come here earlier, but now I’m asking her to break her workout routine as well. It’s a bit much for one day.

“Promise you’ll still get in your cardio,” I say when her internal debate goes past the thirty-second mark.

That convinces her. “Sure.”

“Okay, let’s start with the simplest one.” I curl my fingers around her wrist. “If someone grabs you like this, don’t try to pull back. Twist your arm toward their thumb. That’s the weakest part of the grip.”

She looks skeptical but follows my instructions. Her wrist slips out of my grip easily, and she gasps. “That actually worked?”

I nod. “Easy, right? But don’t stop there. Once you’re free, you strike.” I lift my hand for her to hit. “Use the base of your palm and aim for the nose. Hard. The goal is to disorient your attacker long enough for you to run.”

I show her how to do it, then she mimics the motion, her palm stopping just short of my hand. Her movements are precise, but there’s hesitation in her eyes.

“Don’t hold back,” I say, stepping closer. “The harder you hit, the better your chance of getting away.”

She tries again, her palm slapping against mine with more force this time. It’s good, but not good enough. Vic’s going to send his best. Big, burly motherfuckers like Bowman, and she won’t stand a chance if that’s all she’s got.

Just the thought of that sends a bolt of panic shooting through me. But I shove it aside because I don’t care. This is just a job. I’m not getting involved, and I’m definitely not risking going back to prison over some girl I barely know.

“Katie, c’mon. You gotta go harder than that.”

She gives it another go.

“Harder.” I keep pushing until I feel enough force to break a nose. “That’s it,” I say after about her hundredth attempt. “You got it.”

Katelyn shapes a T with her hands. “Okay, timeout, coach,” she huffs. “My hand hurts. And my pride.”

I grab the water bottle from the corner and sit on the ring floor, gesturing for her to join me. “You’re doing fine.”

She flops down beside me, tugging her ponytail tighter. “I don’t think fine is going to cut it if some psycho grabs me in a darkened alley.”

I smirk, taking a sip of water before passing the bottle to her. “You’re learning fast. Next time, just aim for the nose with a little more conviction.”

She quirks an eyebrow as she drinks, lowering the bottle after a long sip. “You say that like it’s a guarantee there’ll be a next time.” She nudges me playfully. “Are you planning something I should know about?”

“Not me.” I lean back against the ropes, my knees bent. “But the world’s full of assholes. Better to be prepared.”

She shakes her hand out, wincing slightly. “Yeah, but can the preparation not be so intense? I think my wrist is staging a rebellion.”

“Let me see.”

I take her hand before she can protest, my fingers wrapping around her wrist. Her soft, warm skin entices me in a way I can’t explain. As I start massaging her palm and the base of her thumb, she goes completely still.

“This hurt?” I ask.

“Sort of.”

I glance up. Her wide eyes are locked on me, her lips parted slightly. “You need to relax your hand.”

She blinks a few times, as if snapping out of a trance. “Right. Relax.”

But she doesn’t. Her fingers stay stiff, so I keep massaging in slow, deliberate circles until I feel the tension ease.

“There,” I say, reluctantly releasing her hand.

She rubs the spot I just worked on, avoiding my gaze. “Thanks.”

“So, why’d you come in so early today?” I ask, shifting the focus off of the weighted silence lingering between us.

“Stress relief.” She shrugs. “This project is killing me, so I just needed to get out of the house and clear my head for an hour. It’s the one thing in my day that doesn’t involve problem-solving or thinking too hard.”

“Can’t imagine you not thinking too hard.”

“Hey!” She shoves my shoulder. She keeps touching me, and because it’s playful, I don’t think she fully understands the effect it has on me. “I’m perfectly capable of turning my brain off...Sometimes...Rarely...But it happens.”

I shake my head. “Sure, it does.”

She leans back, exhaling deeply. “What about you? Do you overthink too? Or do you just lie there, brooding?”

“A little of both. But I’ve recently penciled in some time to rethink my life choices.”

“Ah, I forgot about that,” she replies with a nod. “And what do you do when it gets too much, and you want to de-stress?

I hesitate. “I drive.”

“Drive? That’s an odd one.”

“Yeah. Long stretches of road, no destination. It clears my head.”

“Hm.” She considers that, nodding slowly as she toys with her necklace. “I get that. There’s something calming about being in motion. Like you’re leaving everything behind for a while.”

Her words take me by surprise. She’s closer to understanding me than she realizes, and I’m not sure how to feel about that.

She takes another sip from the water bottle before setting it between us. “Okay, next question—”

“Why is there always a next question with you?”

“Because I’m a problem solver by nature, and you’re a very cryptic puzzle I am desperately trying to solve. So...what’s the worst job you’ve ever had?”

“Easy. Dishwasher. I had to do it for a year when I was in Folsom—” The words State Prison almost slip out, but I catch them just in time and end that sentence right there. I’ve got to stop being so honest with this girl. “It was disgusting. You?”

She laughs, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, that’s tough. Babysitting for the neighbor’s demon spawn ranks pretty high. Young Lucifer decided to paint the dog purple.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t be my first choice, but I’m not gonna judge creativity.”

“I wasn’t impressed because I was the one who had to scrub it off.” She giggles, but I can hear the undertone of annoyance. “It took three hours, and the dog still had lavender streaks for weeks.”

“Remind me never to ask you to watch my dog.”

“You have a dog?”

“Nope. But I could have one, and that’s a scary enough option for me.”

She lightly punches me, and something grabs her attention. Her gaze drifts to my arm, and I notice the shift immediately. She leans closer, her attention fixed on the tattoo of the wolf on my upper bicep.

“You like wolves?” she asks, lifting her hand hesitantly.

“Yeah.”

“Can I?” she asks, like she hasn’t been constantly touching me this whole time.

Her fingers hover near my arm, and I give a small nod. The moment her fingertips graze my skin, heat surges through me. She traces the edges of the wolf’s face, her touch light as she goes over the detailed lines and curves.

“Why do you like them so much? I mean...enough to get a tattoo of one.”

“They’re fascinating,” I reply, almost entranced by every movement of her finger. “The leader of the pack doesn’t always lead from the front. They allow the other wolves to go first to protect the ones who can’t keep up, to make sure no one’s left behind.” I swallow hard when her finger moves to trace the outline of the forest behind the wolf. “Wolves are resilient, adaptable. They survive even in the harshest conditions. I guess I’ve always admired that about them.”

Her eyes flick to mine, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. The air between us feels heavy, and I know I should pull back, but I don’t.

“Why are you staring so hard?” she asks.

I don’t answer because I don’t know how to respond to that. The moment stretches, every nerve in my body hyper-aware of her proximity. I clear my throat to break the spell she has over me and bring me back to this small gym.

“Uh...I think we should get back to it,” I say, my voice a little rougher than I intended.

I stand and offer her a hand, which she takes without hesitation. Even as I help her to her feet, I still feel the tension simmering beneath the surface.

She pulls her arms back to stretch out her shoulders. “Alright. What’s next?”

“Let me teach you how to get out of a hold.” I move behind her, my hands lightly gripping her shoulders. “Alright. If someone grabs you from behind, use your elbows. Go for their ribs or stomach as hard as you can.”

I release her and place my hand between her and my stomach to absorb the impact. She twists, slamming her elbow backward into my palm.

“Good,” I say, nodding. “But you gotta move faster.”

We practice the move a few times before she tries it on the rubber man. Her first shot hurts her elbow, but I don’t allow her to give up. I push her to do it again and again because I need her to feel the impact. I need her to push through the pain and keep going.

The feistiness I saw earlier returns. She doesn’t back down from this challenge either. In fact, it motivates her even more. When I’m finally satisfied that she can deliver a strike hard enough to do some damage, she’s huffing, stretching out her stiff arms.

“How am I doing, coach?” she asks playfully, bouncing on her toes like a boxer before a match.

“You hit like a girl.”

She giggles, punching my arm again. “I am a girl.”

“I’m just kidding. You’re doing good. And if none of that works, bite. Bite as hard as you can. Human teeth can cut through flesh. Remember that. Now, last one.” I move down on the floor and lie down. “If you’re pinned, use your hips and legs to shift their weight. Buck upward, twist, and aim for anything vulnerable. Come here. Let me show you.”

She stares at me, wide-eyed. “You want me to pin you down?”

“Yeah.”

There’s another moment of hesitation before she drops onto the floor and straddles me.

Oh, fuck!

Now I understand her hesitation. I was so focused on making sure she could handle herself that I didn’t really think this part through. She’s on top of me, and I can feel every ounce of suppleness. Her plump ass resting on my abdomen. Her toned thighs pressing either side of my torso.

The sweetest scent floats to my nostrils. It’s crisp and clean, almost citrusy, like fresh orange blossoms after the rain, and it’s complemented with a discreet hint of vanilla. It’s inviting, intoxicating.

The tension between us that was just a gentle simmer a few minutes ago is now a scorching blaze I can’t seem to get control over. She’s hot. So hot. And I feel her heat cascading over me when she takes my wrists and holds them tightly above my head. She’s close enough for me to feel the locket on her chain tap against the underside of my chin. Her breasts rub against my bare chest, and I stifle a groan.

Somehow, her damp skin and shallow pants against my lips are making my cock think we’re in an entirely different situation. I tense beneath her, my muscles tightening as I try to use every mechanism to restrain myself.

I haven’t felt this in so long. The warmth and seductive softness of a woman’s flesh. And the lack of contact has made my body far more reactive than it needs to be.

My pulse is racing. My breaths are erratic. My dick is pulling stiffer by the second. She got me to this point with virtually no stimulation, and I can tell that even the slightest movement will send me into hyper-drive.

My hands clench into tight fists because the urge to touch her is overwhelming. I want to run my palms up her thighs. I want to grip her ass and grind her hips against me, feel her heat moving up and down the length of me.

“Now what?” she asks, sounding a little breathless.

I grit my teeth and try to ignore every explicit thought that sultry whisper invoked. I ignore those perfect lips that are parted ever so slightly. I ignore that tiny bead of sweat that trickles from her collarbone and disappears between her breasts. I ignore all of it because I’m right on the edge, and I don’t trust myself right now.

Like a caged animal that’s been locked away for too long, I’ve become feral, and I don’t know what I’m capable of, what I’ll do to her. All I know is that if she doesn’t stop looking at me like that, I’m going to lose the last shred of self-control I have left.

But then she does something unthinkable.

The tip of her tongue sneaks out to moisten her lower lip, and I fucking snap like a taut wire.

In one swift motion, I flip her over, her back hitting the floor with a hard thud. Gripping her wrists above her head, I crawl over her. Her breath catches, her eyes widening with a mixture of surprise and anticipation.

Her eyes search mine, and before I can stop myself, I lean in slightly. But then reality slams into me like a wrecking ball swinging at full force. What the hell am I doing?

I quickly lift myself off her and sit down beside her instead, shifting my knees up to hide my arousal.

“And that’s how it’s done.” My voice sounds raspier than usual, so I clear my throat.

She sits up as well. “Okay. Do you want me to try now?”

“Nope.” No way am I getting that close to her ever again. “I just remembered. I gotta be somewhere in a few minutes, so I gotta hit the shower.”

She nods. “Okay. So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Two o’clock.”

“See you then.”

I wait for her to leave the ring and walk to the leg machines before I stand up. I’m still tenting through my shorts, so I hunch over, gripping my knees as I try to breathe through the discomfort.

“How you doing over there, John?”

I look up and encounter a smug smirk on Zayn’s face. It’s the same stupid look he was sporting the other night when he and Corey were giving me shit about Katelyn. “I’m doing just fine, Zayn.”

“You sure?” It’s taking everything in him to keep it together, but laughter still spurts out between his words. “You look like you’re taking strain. I just saw you with Katelyn, and man, this personal trainer gig looks...pretty hard .”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Of course, I do...but they’re not as much fun.”

“Just fuck off, will ya?”

He chuckles and starts backing away. “See you around, John.”

As awkward as that was, I’m grateful. Zayn was just the right kind of annoyance to kill my erection. After a deep breath, I straighten and head to the locker rooms. I just need a cold shower and then I’m driving home and dropping straight into bed. The quicker I can fall asleep and get this woman out of my head, the better off I’ll be.

MORTY’S RICKETY TRAILER has become home to me over the last eight months, but today feels lonelier than normal. The springs in the busted-up couch groan as I shift, staring at the cracked ceiling of the trailer. The silence is deafening, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves outside and the faint hum of a distant car engine. I told myself when I left the gym earlier that I was going to stop obsessing over Katelyn.

Yeah, she’s sweet, but that in itself is a problem. I find myself wanting to be around her constantly. She’s a distraction, and distractions get people killed in my line of work.

I close my eyes, trying to focus on anything other than her. But the more I try to push her out of my mind, the more vividly she comes rushing back. The way her laugh sounds like it bubbles up from somewhere deep inside her. The way her nose crinkles when she teases me. The way she looks at me like she’s trying to figure me out.

My fingers twitch toward my phone, and I curse myself for the thought. Fuck it! I need to stick to the plan. Keep it professional. Business and pleasure don’t mix.

But in the silence, the craving grows. The sound of her voice, the magnetic pull of her energy. It’s frustrating how much I want to hear it again.

I get up, deciding to distract myself with a shower. The water is lukewarm at best, and the soap smells like cheap detergent. It does little to subdue the tension coiling tightly within me. And maybe that’s all this is. Sexual tension. I haven’t had sex in...I can’t even remember the last time. That kind of pent-up frustration can make a man a little crazy.

That’s all this is. My brain is confusing physical desire with...something else. I’m literally thinking with my dick, and it’s making me stupid. I just need to get rid of these thoughts plaguing me every second of the day, and I’ll get back on my game.

Dropping my head, I allow the water to glide over my neck and run down my back. The steady stream does nothing to wash away my thoughts. Her on her knees in front of me. I shut my eyes as my hand closes around my cock, gripping it tight. Those sexy lips moving up and down the length of me. Those innocent brown eyes staring up at me.

My hand pumps harder, faster, my frustration growing because I want to feel her. This is not the sensation I crave. I want to know what it feels like to have her tongue circling my tip before she draws it into her mouth. Her firm tits were pressed against my chest today, and I want to know how heavy they would feel in my palm.

The images flash faster, keeping in rhythm with my hand. I picture how wet she’d be when I enter her. I see her gasping for air as I thrust into her hard and fast. The fantasy is so vivid that I can almost feel her pussy clenching around my cock when I make her cum.

With a loud groan, the tension releases, warm liquid spilling over my hand. I slump, resting my head against the shower wall as I try to catch my breath. That wasn’t nearly as satisfying as I would’ve liked, but at least I don’t have sex on the brain anymore. I can stop thinking with my dick for a change.

I step out of the shower, dry and dress myself, then head to the tiny kitchen in the corner of the trailer.

Dinner is a microwaveable tray of slop that tastes as bland as it looks, and I force myself to swallow each bite. It doesn’t take long for the urge to reemerge and then that feeling starts nagging me again.

I got rid of the sexual tension. I’m thinking clearly now, yet for some illogical reason, I’m still craving to hear her voice. Fuck, it’s not even ten minutes later, and she’s already on my mind again.

My phone is in my hand before I even realize it. I hesitate, my thumb hovering over her number.

You know what? I’m just gonna call. No harm in that. Calling never hurt anyone. A simple call isn’t going to derail the entire job. I’m going to see her tomorrow, find the files, then leave without a trace. This call won’t even mean anything in the bigger scheme of things.

I hit dial, and it rings twice before she answers.

There’s a moment of surprise, like she wasn’t expecting me to call. “Alex?”

“Hey.” I lean back on the couch, trying to sound casual. “Busy?”

“Yes. I mean, no. Sort of.” She lets out a small laugh. “I’m studying. What’s up?”

“I figured. Thought you might need a break.”

“From studying?” She sounds almost...offended. “Are you kidding? This shit is like a dopamine rush for me. It’s like injecting pure heroin directly into my bloodstream. I never need a break.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I’m like the Chuck Norris of studying. Do you know how much studying I do?”

“Tell me. How much?”

“ All of it. I do all of it.”

I suppress a chuckle. This is precisely why my craving for her company is insatiable. She’s just this weird, goofy nerd with a side order of sweet, untainted vulnerability. For a guy who’s only ever known the worst kind of people, she is a beacon of light in the darkness. And that light keeps drawing me to it. Like a moth to a flame, I can’t resist the pull.

“You’re ridiculous. Endearingly so, but still ridiculous. What are you working on, anyway?”

“Oh, my gosh! It’s so exciting!” She’s not even lying. The increased pitch in her voice shows her unmitigated glee, and she dives headfirst into an explanation. “I’m studying the impact of oxidative stress on mitochondrial function. We’re looking at how free radicals damage cellular respiration pathways...”

Information pours out of her at a rapid pace, just a stream of technical terms and detailed processes. I don’t understand a damn thing she’s saying, but I don’t care. I like the sound of her voice, the enthusiasm that lights up her tone when she talks about something she’s passionate about.

She goes on for about three minutes before she abruptly stops herself mid-sentence. “Sorry. I’m rambling again. It’s a bad habit.”

“Why do you do that?” I scoff. “No, scratch that. I know why. It’s because of what your asshole ex said to you. But don’t let his opinion of you hold any weight, okay? You’re not boring. I could listen to you all day, so stop apologizing for just being you.”

There’s a pause on the other end, and then her voice softens. “Thanks, Alex.”

I’m so annoyed I barely register her gratitude and steamroll ahead. “What made you date a douche like that in the first place?”

She hesitates. “I don’t know. At first, he seemed...nice. He said all the right things, did all the right things. He was so sweet. Like, he was constantly buying me gifts and showering me with compliments. I subsequently learned that it was just a tactic. Love bombing or something, they call it. Anyway, that was only for the first few weeks, and after a while...” She trails off, and I can hear the hurt in her voice.

“What happened?”

“He just...changed. He started taking these little jabs at me, and it made me feel so small.” She sighs as if there’s a heavy weight on her chest. “Like I wasn’t enough. He’d always point out every minuscule thing I did wrong or tell me how I wasn’t as exciting as other people.”

“And this lasted...how long?”

“Ugh! Like fourteen months. I probably would’ve ended it sooner if he wasn’t such a good kisser.”

It’s so sudden. My hand clutches the phone so tight it feels like it might crack under the pressure. This shouldn’t be bugging me, but just thinking about her kissing this fucking asshole is grinding my nerves raw. I don’t trust what might come out of my mouth, so I remain silent and let her continue.

“He obviously didn’t feel the same way because he thought I was boring in every way...if you get what I’m saying.” She pauses, and I can almost hear the cogs turning in her head. “Hey, can I ask you something...from a guy’s point of view? I’ve tried to ask Corey and Zayn, but they’re not the kinda guys who...have...a lot of...sex.”

I’m not sure I like where this is going. “And you think I’m the kinda guy who does?”

“Well...yeah. You look like someone who goes through women faster than you change your underwear.”

“I’m gonna caution you not to make assumptions about me.”

She accepts that without hesitation. “Okay, fine. But even if you’re not a full-blown manwhore, I’m sure you’ll be able to answer my question.”

“Which is?”

“I swear I wouldn’t be able to even get this out if we were in person, but...here goes.” She releases a long, slow breath as she musters up the courage. “How important are...positions?” There’s only crackling static from my side, so she tries to elaborate. “Okay, imagine you and I were...having sex...”

Fuck, I just got done imagining that. Now she’s gone and replanted that thought right back in my head. Visions of her naked body are swirling around in my mind, and I press my fingers into my forehead as if that will erase them.

“...would it bother you if I...always wanted to be...on top?”

“Uh... always ?” Between the images of her tits bouncing as she rides my dick, I try to find the words to formulate a halfway coherent sentence. “You haven’t, um, you haven’t tried anything else?”

“Well...” She’s hesitant to answer, and I know she’s probably playing with her little heart-shaped locket as she debates how much she wants to divulge. “I’ve tried missionary a few times, but that’s...about it.”

This isn’t a conversation I should be entertaining. I should be maintaining an adequate distance from the target and not indulging in an in-depth discussion about her sex life. But, shit, her inexperience has got me so curious now. I want to know exactly how much unchartered territory there is, how much of her is still unexplored.

“What about foreplay?” I ask. “Have you tried that?”

“Hm? Not really. I just think the whole concept of going down on someone is a bit...gross. For me personally, I’ve never even been fully naked in front of anyone. I’m really shy, and just the thought of someone doing that to me is mortifying. And for a guy...I guess, I’ve always thought that guys who were into that stuff were degenerates or...porn addicts because stuff like that only happens in porn, right? Real people in real relationships don’t suck on...stuff, and then kiss each other on the mouth afterward, do they?”

She’s going to kill me. This girl is going to drive me off the steepest cliff. Listening to her say these things shouldn’t be turning me on as much as it is, but I’m sitting here fucking rock hard, just wishing I could have one night with her to prove her wrong about everything .

“Katie...” I bite into my knuckle to stifle a groan. “Of course, they do. It can be a very intimate, sensual thing that two people experience together.”

“But it’s so unsanitary.”

“Well...yeah. Sex is supposed to be a little... dirty .”

“It is? Really?” She’s silent for a long time. “When I told Jason I didn’t like all that stuff, he called me a stuck-up prude.”

I grit my teeth because I don’t want to keep hearing about her ex. What a way to kill a boner. “Fuck him.”

“I did!” she giggles. “And that’s what I got for handing my V-card to that douche. But I’m clearly the problem because I’m so rigid and stuck in my ways. Just from this short interaction, I got an answer to my question. The fact that I’m not willing to try new positions would bother you.”

Every cell in my body is screaming for me to end this. It’s gone too far, but I can’t stop talking to her. Her softness, her femininity—these are qualities I’m not used to, and they’re so addictive. I haven’t spoken to anyone like this in... ever. This kind of conversation is completely foreign to me. I’ve grown so accustomed to lies and deceit and betrayal that her unfiltered, unguarded nature appeals to the deepest, darkest part of me.

She opens up so easily, offers information like I’m worthy of her trust. I’m not. I’m the last person in the world she should trust. Somehow, I’ve thrown myself into a shitstorm here, and I’m just swirling in a thick sludge of guilt and shame and lust. I’m battling my attraction to this woman...and I’m losing.

“It wouldn’t bother me,” I say once I get my thoughts together, “but I’d want to know why.”

Again, she pauses, fearful of being judged. “I like being in control,” she admits softly. “It’s actually a need rather than a want. I need to control the movements, the pacing, the flow of events...everything. I feel...vulnerable when I’m not in control, and I absolutely hate that feeling.”

“Given what I know about you, that makes sense. I’m really not surprised.”

A frustrated groan comes through from the other end, as if she’s angry with herself. “Why did that make me feel so uptight and predictable?” Another annoyed whine. “What’s wrong with me, Alex?”

“Nothing. Maybe you just need to find a guy who understands what a control freak you are...and then forces you out of your comfort zone to get you to try new things.”

She thinks that over for a second. “Maybe you’re right. And I’m not that uptight, you know. I’m sure I can be persuaded.”

“I’m sure you can, Rebel.”

She giggles at the jab, then soldiers on. “I just need to meet a man who understands me, and I’ll compromise and try not to be such a control freak.” Paper rustles in the background. “Ooh! I should make a list of all the qualities he needs to have.”

My eyebrows furrow together. “You understand the irony of what you just said, right?”

She must already be engrossed in the task because she ignores that completely. “Okay, I want someone who gets me. And I want someone who actually wants to connect on a deeper level. Not just surface stuff.” She pauses to scribble that down. “And he needs to be patient because I don’t think I’ll leave the comfort zone without a fight.”

“And he needs to have a sense of humor,” I offer, “because someone in the relationship has to be funny.”

“Alex...” She clears her throat, her tone becoming serious and condescending. “Just because you lack the risibility to appreciate the comedic genius of Katelyn, the Droll Troll, that does not mean other people aren’t thoroughly entertained by my craft.”

“Oh, your craft?” I tease. “You know, I’ve yet to hear one good joke from you.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I always have one prepared, just in case. I told you I’m still honing my craft, so it’s still a work-in-progress, but it slaps!”

“Alright. Let’s hear it.”

“Okay, you ready?” Giggles are already spurting out of her, and she hasn’t even started. “Okay, why did the biochemist break up with his partner?”

Oh, this is going to be so corny. “Why?”

“Because...because they didn’t get a reaction!” She waits to hear even the slightest titter out of me, but I give her nothing. “Get it? No chemistry?”

The fact that she’s still getting no reaction from me makes it harder to contain herself.

“That. Was. Awful,” I say when she settles down enough for me to get a sentence in.

“Aah...you had to be there, I guess.”

“I’m right here!”

She erupts again, her giggles turning into outright laughter. It’s not even the joke. It can’t be. It must be me that’s setting her off like that. In the last few days, I’ve seen a lot of different sides to Katie. Her nerdy side is always on full display, but I’ve also seen her hardworking and determined side. I’ve seen her feisty, no-nonsense side. There was a glimpse of her vulnerable, insecure side. But after having experienced these various sides, I can now conclude that this one is my favorite.

This goofy side that can laugh at herself so easily. This chick is in hysterics, and it hits me how much I like that sound. It’s bright, carefree, real.

“Fuck, I really like your laugh.”

I want to kick myself the second the words tumble involuntarily out of my mouth. I keep messing up like that and blurting out stupid shit that makes the moment sort of awkward. Thirty minutes ago, I thought there’d be no harm in calling her, no threat to the job, but somehow, she gets me to lower my guard. Every. Single. Time. These kinds of slip-ups are a major threat to the job. I need to get my head right.

“Listen, I’mma...I’mma let you get back to your mitochondrial thingies.” I clear my throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the movie.”

“Okay,” she says, her tone light, though there’s a hint of something unspoken lingering there.

I hang up, staring at the phone in my hand for a long time. That was a colossal mistake. And I need to figure out how to stop making it.