Chapter 4
JUNO
Sweat slicked my palms, causing the controller to slip in my tightening grasp as the fight escalated.
My fingers shifted, adjusting the movements of my avatar on the screen as I fought for our lives.
Well, not exactly hers, since she was computer-generated, and I guess not technically mine either, but the anticipation and excitement were real.
My heart hammered in my chest as if I were the one wielding the magic toward my opponent while darting around thick trees and leaping behind jagged boulders to evade the asshole hell-bent on taking me out.
“Not today, motherfucker. I need this win after running into him,” I grumbled.
Without taking my focus off the flashing screen, I peeled one hand off the controller, blindly searching for the large metal bowl filled with popcorn and M everything had suddenly gone offline.
Damnit. What good was the self-defense training with Oliver if I froze up when surprised?
My vision blurred with the need to blink, but I couldn’t even do that. The air shifted as the person behind me moved around the couch and stepped into my line of sight.
The moment recognition weaved its way through my sluggish brain, all the tension drained out of me.
With a grunt, I slumped against the couch, my energy zapped from those few intense moments.
Hand over my pounding heart, I narrowed my eyes at the smiling hottie blocking the TV, where I was almost positive I was getting my ass kicked based on the sounds vibrating through the surround-sound speakers I installed last week.
It made the gaming experience that much better when you could feel the sounds in the air.
“West O’Donnell, you fucking asshole,” I griped. Grabbing a throw pillow, I launched it at his head, which he dodged easily.
He looked at the pillow on the ground and then back at me like I’d just offended him somehow. “What did I say?” he asked innocently.
My breath caught for a second. He was just that good-looking in a sweet, sexy way with his glasses and shy smile.
Loose, worn jeans hung on his hips but were snug around his thick thighs—making it very clear that even with his injury, he was keeping up with leg day—and pooled into a pair of untied work boots.
Large work boots. It made me wonder if the saying was true about big feet meaning a big—
“Earth to Juno,” he laughed, waving his good hand in front of my face.
I blinked, only now realizing I was in fact staring at his crotch.
Fuck a walrus.
“What the hell, West?” I snapped, hoping he didn’t catch me mentally measuring the size of his dick based on his boot size and…
. My focus zeroed in on his good hand. Big hands too.
Thick fingers…. I shook my head hard. What the hell was going on with me today?
Maybe my assortment of toys and I had not spent enough quality time together lately because, holy fuck, I was horny.
“You scared the shit out of me, sneaking up like that. Did you forget to knock?”
That mischievous smirk that showed a sexy dimple disappeared, replaced with a serious expression. The sudden shift in his mood had the previous heat filling my veins turning to ice.
“I scared you, and you just sat on the couch, frozen in place?” He crossed both thick arms over his muscular chest and shot me a disapproving look.
I picked a piece of popcorn off my lap and tossed it into my mouth, giving me a second to come up with a decent answer that wouldn’t make him even more frustrated with me. “Um, yeah. I was deep in battle here, and I wasn’t expecting someone to just barge into my home unannounced.”
Shitty excuse, but that was the best I could come up with to defend my inaction while distracted by him.
His head tilted to the side with a quizzical expression. “Um, no one ever expects to be attacked.”
I arched an eyebrow at him, stifling a chuckle.
“But you’re not attacking me, right?” Fuck, why did I phrase that as a question?
And did I want him to say yes or no? The good kind of attacking, obviously.
Not the hurtful… well, sometimes that was the good kind too.
Just not the “I want to leave you dead” kind of attacking.
He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had.
“I know you’re working with Oliver on self-defense, but you need reactive help too.”
“I do?”
He nodded with a calculating expression.
Waving a hand in the air, I gestured to his face. “I don’t like that look, whatever it is.”
“You and me.”
“Go on,” I blurted before slapping a hand over my mouth. His lips curled upward in a slow smile. “I mean… fuck, what were you saying about you and me?”
“I’ll help train you on your reaction time, faster reflexes for when you’re surprised.”
I wiggled my fingers in the air. “Yay,” I mocked, despite loving the idea and knowing it would be helpful.
The way his grin fell made me feel like an asshole.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. Your help would be great, thank you.” I plucked a few pieces of popcorn off my lap and tossed them into my mouth. “I want to be ready for anything, anyone, just in case.”
That stony expression came back in full force.
“Anyone, or someone in particular?” I shrank into the couch, sinking deeper into the cushions as he stepped around the small coffee table, cutting the distance between us. “That isn’t a rhetorical question, Juno.”
I blinked up at him, heart racing at the way he loomed over me.
What would it feel like to have him reach down, scoop me off the couch like I weighed nothing, and toss me over his shoulder?
To have his strong, protective arms wrapped around me in a way that made me feel so utterly safe, I could let my guard down for a few minutes, knowing nothing could get to me?
“Juno?”
Soft brown curls shifted along my shoulders with the sharp headshake it took to clear those crazy thoughts.
“Yeah, yeah, reactive training would be great,” I muttered, picking up the discarded controller. “Thanks, West. You’re a good friend.”
His responding annoyed huff as he fell into the armchair by the couch had me eyeing him in confusion. With a shrug, I fixed my attention on the screen, where the other player’s character was celebrating his victory by dancing over my dead body.
Classy.
“I can’t even win virtually,” I muttered under my breath, tossing the controller back onto the couch.
“What was that?” West asked, leaning forward as if actually waiting for my answer.
“Nothing. So, did you guys get everything worked out with Brandon in your meeting?” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him stiffening as if he was uncomfortable with my question.
“What happened? Wait, did Langston put up a fight about helping me with the information for the scheduling software?” An annoyed groan vibrated past my lips as I shoved off the couch.
“He is such a raging asshole, you know that? I know you guys are”—I waved a hand in the air while I paced from one side of the room to the other—“whatever you are and—”
“You can ask me for details, sweet cheeks. I’ll gladly tell you all about our relationship and all it entails.”