6. Sophia
SIX
Sophia
The Guardian building looms before me, a utilitarian square structure that screams efficiency. As we step inside, the scent of gun oil and sweat fills my nostrils, a sharp contrast to the crisp ocean air outside. The underlying tang of metal adds a final touch to the overtly masculine atmosphere.
Each corner houses a bullpen for the different teams—Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and Delta. My attention is drawn to the center, where a massive conference room stands, brimming with high-tech equipment that makes my fingers itch to explore.
“Wait here while I change into PT gear. Won’t be long.” Blake’s hand on my lower back sends a shiver up my spine as he guides me to the conference room.
The moment he disappears down a hallway, I’m on my feet, circling the room. My heart races as I take in every piece of technology. It’s mind-blowing.
Computers with multiple screens, communication devices I’ve never seen before, and access points that could lead to who knows what kind of information. It’s a goldmine, and I’m standing right in the middle of it .
Footsteps echo down the hall, and I quickly return to my seat, arranging my face into a mask of innocence as Blake re-enters.
His PT gear—a snug T-shirt and shorts—clings to his muscular frame, emphasizing every chiseled feature. His sharp jawline contrasts with his piercing-blue eyes, which seem to see straight through me. Broad shoulders lead to powerful arms, each bicep bulging impressively.
My gaze trails down to his thighs, like sculpted tree trunks, every muscle clearly defined and rippling with each step. I force myself to look away, my pulse quickening despite my best efforts to remain composed.
“Enjoying the view?” Blake smirks, catching my wandering eyes.
“Just appreciating the, uh, scenery.” I laugh, trying to play it cool.
“You know, you don’t have to be so subtle about it.” He chuckles, stepping closer.
“Oh, really?” I arch an eyebrow, feeling a spark of playful defiance. “Obviously, I wasn’t trying to be subtle.”
“No, you weren’t. You should wipe the drool from your mouth.”
“I’m not…” I swipe at my chin, which makes Blake laugh.
The man is virility on steroids, a walking, talking embodiment of raw, masculine power.
“Sweetie, you’re more than welcome to check me out anytime you want.” His eyes glint with amusement. “But fair is fair.”
“What does that mean?” I tilt my head, intrigued.
“If you’re checking me out,” he leans in, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “then I get to check you out, too.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” A playful blush creeps up my cheeks, and I bite my lip to hide my smile.
“Good,” he grins, “because I’m definitely keeping an eye on you.
“Ready to join the team?” A hint of a smile plays at the corners of his mouth.
“Absolutely.” I stand, smoothing my hands over my clothes, suddenly aware of how I must look.
Five men enter the conference room behind Blake, their faces breaking into welcoming grins that ease some of the tension in my shoulders. The heady power of testosterone clots the air, thick and palpable.
Blake’s raw masculinity is impressive, but the combined presence of his teammates is overwhelming, a symphony of strength and power. Each man radiates a fierce, commanding presence, making Blake’s singular intensity seem almost modest in comparison.
It’s like standing in the eye of a testosterone-infused hurricane. I’m both intimidated and fascinated by the sheer force of their collective presence.
“You might remember the guys, but I’ll do reintroductions. Sophia, this is Charlie team. Guys, this is Sophia.” Blake’s voice carries a note of pride that sends warmth blooming in my chest.
“My name is Ethan.” A tall, rugged man with piercing eyes steps forward first, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “Team leader.”
The others follow suit: Walt, stocky and solid, with laugh lines crinkling his eyes, Hank, tall and lean, with a quiet intensity that reminds me of a coiled spring, Gabe, whose easy smile makes me feel instantly at ease, and finally, Rigel, who practically vibrates with barely contained energy.
“Nice to meet you.” I’m surprised by the steadiness in my voice.
Standing before the men who rescued me off my master’s yacht is overwhelming. Surreal.
These men risked their lives for me.
And how am I going to repay them?
Best not to think about that.
Technically, the rescue was for Jenna. I was just collateral. But still, they didn’t know me, yet they risked so much to save me.
“Alright, ladies.” Ethan claps his hands together, the twinkle in his eye belying his tone. “Today’s focus: hand-to-hand and knife skills. To the gym.” His gaze shifts to me, eyebrow raised. “You coming with us?”
“Yeah, she’s hanging with me all day long.” Blake steps in, placing a reassuring hand on my back.
“Sounds like a plan. Come on, ladies, time to show Sophia what we can do.” Ethan adjusts his stance, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.
The men’s banter washes over me like a warm wave. It’s so different from what I’m used to—my former guards’ cold, formal demeanor. These men are close friends, and their camaraderie is evident in every joke and playful shove.
Gabe nudges Rigel with his elbow. “Hope you’re ready to eat mat today, rookie. I’ve been practicing my throws.”
“Rookie? In your dreams, old man. I may be new to Charlie team, but I know my shit.” Rigel scoffs, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “I’ll have you tapping out in five minutes flat.”
“ Oh ho! ” Walt slaps Rigel on the back. “Big words from the baby of the team. Care to put your money where your mouth is?”
“How about this—loser buys drinks for the whole team tonight?” Hank jumps right in, not missing a beat.
A chorus of agreements and whoops follows this suggestion.
“Don’t let them fool you.” Blake, walking beside me, leans in close. His breath tickles my ear as he whispers. “Hank’s the real shark here. He always cleans up on these bets.”
I suppress a shiver at Blake’s proximity, forcing myself to focus on the conversation around us.
“And the overall loser has to run the obstacle course in full gear—backward.” Ethan’s unable to hide his amusement.
This announcement is met with a mix of groans and laughter.
“Better start stretching, Gabe,” Walt teases his teammate. “Those old bones of yours aren’t going to like running backward.”
Gabe responds with a rude gesture that makes everyone laugh again.
As we enter the gym, the playful atmosphere lingers, starkly contrasting the intense training I’m about to witness. I can’t help but smile, caught up in their infectious energy.
The gymnasium is even more impressive up close. The polished floors gleam under the bright lights, and the air is thick with the scent of rubber mats and determination. The team spreads out, pairing off for sparring. I settle on a nearby bench, my eyes drawn immediately to Blake .
He steps onto the mat, squaring off against Hank. They exchange a nod, a silent agreement to give it their all. A moment later, they begin, their movements a blur of precision and power.
It’s like watching a deadly dance, each strike and block flowing seamlessly into the next. Blake’s style is aggressive, constantly pushing forward, while Hank relies more on counterattacks.
“That’s Krav Maga.” Walt sits beside me on the bench, his voice warm and friendly. “It’s an Israeli fighting style. Brutal but effective.”
I startle, surprised. Too engrossed in watching Blake, I missed Walt’s approach, but my attention snaps back to the mat. Blake executes a flawless throw, sending Hank flying through the air. Hank recovers swiftly, sweeping Blake’s legs out from under him.
They grapple on the mat, a tangle of limbs and muscle. Blake counters with a deft twist, using Hank’s momentum against him. Hank rolls, trying to leverage Blake’s arm, but Blake anticipates the move, slipping free and flipping Hank onto his back.
The intensity of their sparring is mesmerizing, every move calculated, every counter executed with precision. Blake finally gains the upper hand, pinning Hank to the mat, his powerful frame commanding the scene. Their heavy breaths underscore the sheer exertion and skill woven into their combat.
“Wow.” The word slips out, mesmerized by the display of strength and technique before me.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Walt chuckles softly beside me, leaning closer. His eyes follow the action. “Blake’s one of the best. He’s not just strong, he’s smart—always thinking three steps ahead.”
“You’re slipping, old man.” Blake wipes the sweat from his brow, his voice tinged with amusement.
“Just setting you up for a false sense of security.” Hank grins, a playful glint in his eye.
The display of raw power and skill leaves me in awe, a flutter of excitement and admiration stirring within me. My gaze stays fixed on Blake as he helps Hank to his feet, their camaraderie clear in the exchange of grins and pats on the back.
I glance around the room, noticing the other pairs. Gabe and Rigel are focused on knife defense techniques, their movements swift and precise. Ethan watches intently, offering corrections and praise in equal measure.
“This is so different,” I muse aloud, the words escaping before I can stop them.
“How so?” Walt’s eyebrow arches, curiosity written across his features.
I hesitate, then decide honesty is the best policy. “The guards I’m used to… There was never any warmth between them.”
Walt’s expression softens with understanding, his eyes gentle. “Yeah, we’re a different breed here. More like family than co-workers.”
Family. The word lodges a lump in my throat, stirring memories and long-buried emotions.
“Hey, wanna learn some moves?” Walt’s voice is gentle and inviting.
The scent of sweat and mat cleaner fills the air, mingling with the distant hum of voices and the faint clang of metal weights. The place feels alive, charged with energy and camaraderie, a polar opposite to the cold, sterile environments I’m used to.
Family .
It’s been so long since I’ve had anything like that.
“Sure.”
“Nothing too fancy.” Walt guides me onto a nearby mat. The rubber surface is firm yet forgiving under my bare feet. “Just some basic self-defense.”
We start with simple blocks and strikes. Walt’s a patient teacher. His hands are warm and steady as he guides me through each movement. His touch is gentle but firm, ensuring I understand the mechanics of each move.
He positions himself behind me, his chest lightly pressing against my back as he helps me perfect a defensive stance.
The closeness is steady and professional, lacking the spark that ignites when Blake is near. It doesn’t send heat coursing through my veins like Blake’s does.
“Like this.” His hands are on my hips, adjusting my position slightly. “You want to keep your center of gravity low.” Walt’s hands move to my arms, guiding them into the proper blocking position. He knocks the back of my knee, forcing me to lower my center of gravity.
“Keep your elbows in tight.” His voice is low and encouraging. His fingers brush my skin as he corrects my form.
“Now try a strike.” He steps back, watching as I execute the move.
When I falter, he steps in close again, his body aligning with mine as he demonstrates the technique. The solid strength of his frame presses against me, providing both support and a sense of safety.
“Hey, Walt, getting a bit handsy with my girl, aren’t you?” Blake’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and cold.
I startle, turning to see Blake standing there, his presence commanding and tense.
Walt steps back immediately, hands raised in a placating gesture. A sheepish grin spreads across his face, but the tension in the air thickens as the powerful men square off.
“Just teaching her some moves. She shouldn’t have to sit on a bench and watch us fight. Gotta learn some self-defense skills, brother.” Walt’s voice carries a hint of challenge, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“That may be, but there’s no need to get all touchy-feely.” Blake steps closer, his eyes narrowing.
Walt chuckles, shaking his head. “Why’d you bring a woman to practice and force her to watch from the sidelines like a second-string player? I just thought I’d teach her some moves. She needs to learn.”
The other guys stop their activities and turn to watch the interaction. A few snickers and whistles break the silence, adding a layer of camaraderie to the scene.
“Don’t be such a caveman, Blake,” one of them calls out. I’m not sure which one.
“She’s got spirit,” another one adds with approval. “Let her learn. ”
“Blake’s getting protective of his girl,” Gabe calls out, earning a round of laughter.
Blake’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“Alright, fine. But keep it professional.”
“Professional it is.” Walt straightens and gives a mock salute. “Alright, Sophia, ready to try again?”
“Yes, let’s do it.” I glance at Blake, noting his protectiveness and the irritation in his eyes.
Walt steps in, guiding me through a couple more moves. His hands are firm yet gentle as he positions my arms and adjusts my stance, bringing us closer.
“Good, now try this.” Walt demonstrates a throw, stepping in close. His chest brushes against my back as he shows me the movement.
Blake steps forward, eyes blazing with possessive jealousy. Without a word, he physically separates us with a light shove, his presence dominating.
“Walt, stop being an asshole. If anyone trains her, it’s going to be me.” A hint of a grin plays at the corners of Blake’s mouth, but the intensity in his gaze leaves no doubt about his feelings.
“All yours, brother.” Walt raises his hands, feigning surrender, stepping back with a laugh.
Blake takes Walt’s place, his body so close that the heat radiates off him. His voice is low and intense.
“Let’s work on some throws.” His hands grip my shoulders firmly, guiding me through the motions with precision and care.
The room fills with the men’s banter and camaraderie. Their support and good-natured teasing create a surprisingly comforting environment. Despite the intensity of the training, a sense of belonging begins to take root within me.
Blake’s hands on my hips send a jolt through me, like a live wire sparking to life. His touch is firm and commanding, a noticeable difference from Walt’s calculated guidance. Every movement we make together is charged with a raw, kinetic energy that reverberates through me, intensifying our connection .
As we move, Blake’s strength complements my agility, and the rhythm of our synchronized steps feels natural. Each successful throw earns a murmur of approval from him, his voice a deep, resonant timbre that sends warmth blooming in my chest. The heat mingles with the electric sensation, creating a potent mix of exhilaration and desire.
“You’re a natural.” His breath is hot against my ear.
“I have a good teacher.” I turn to face him, our bodies mere inches apart.
Something flashes in Blake’s eyes—a potent blend of desire and frustration—but then he steps back and clears his throat.
“Let’s try that again. This time, I’ll be the attacker.”
He lunges at me, his movements deliberately slow. I react on instinct, using the techniques he just taught me. The world narrows to just us—the feel of his body against mine, the sound of our labored breathing, the faint scent of his sweat mingling with mine.
I sweep Blake’s legs out from under him in a move that surprises us both. He goes down hard, pulling me with him. We land in a tangle of limbs, my body pressed flush against his.
For a moment, we’re frozen, staring into each other’s eyes. I’m acutely aware of every point of contact between us—his muscled chest heaving against mine, his powerful thighs tangled with my own. The press of his hard length against my belly.
The air is charged, electric. Blake’s pupils dilate, and his breathing slows. His grip on my waist tightens slightly, and for a heartbeat, I think he might pull me in for a kiss.
“Nice move.” His voice is rough and thick, while his gaze fills with desire.
I allow myself a small, victorious smile as a shiver ripples down my spine.
Someone clears their throat nearby, breaking the spell. It’s Ethan, looking down at us with amusement.
“I think that’s enough fiddling around for today, lovebirds.” He extends a hand to help me up.
As I get to my feet, I catch the poorly concealed smirks of the other team members. They’re clearly relishing the sight of Blake being taken down a peg, their barely restrained laughter hinting at the teasing he’s bound to face later.
Heat rises to my cheeks, but I lift my chin, refusing to let embarrassment take hold.
“Thanks for the lesson.” I look at Blake, who’s now standing and pointedly avoiding my gaze.
“Anytime.” He runs a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, his expression carefully neutral.
The team disperses, heading for the showers, their voices carrying playful taunts.
“Man, you’ve got it bad.” Rigel claps Blake on the shoulder, giving him a little shake.
“Never seen you so distracted, Blake.” Hank smirks, glancing between us.
“Guess we know who the real knockout is here.” Walt winks at me, a playful smile filling his face.
More heckling follows, adding to the light-hearted teasing aimed at Blake.
“Our boy’s all grown up and in love.” Gabe claps his hands over his chest, mimicking a heartbeat with a pseudo-serious expression.
“Sorry about them.” Blake’s ears turn red, but he doesn’t deny their accusations. Instead, he turns to me, his expression apologetic and something else I can’t quite decipher. “I’ll walk you back to your quarters.” His voice is gruff as he steps closer, a protective edge to his posture.
As we leave the gym, the cool air of the hallway shocks my overheated skin. Every step beside Blake heightens the tension between us, the space charged with unspoken emotions. My skin tingles in his presence, the closeness making my heart race.
Frustration bubbles up inside me. I’m getting under his skin; that much is clear, but he’s still fighting it, still clinging to that professional distance.
It’s maddening.
When we reach my door, Blake hesitates. His hand hovers near my arm but not quite touching.
“Sophia, I… ”
“Yes?” I turn to face him, hope rising in my chest.
Lifting a finger, I place it gently on his chest, trailing it down slowly over the soft notch of his throat, down his broad chest, slipping down to his washboard abs, letting it linger suggestively at the waistband of his shorts.
“Do you want to come in?”
“I need to take a shower.” He swallows hard, his eyes darkening with desire, but he shakes his head slightly.
“You could take a shower here. A shower for one is lonely.” I let my finger trail back up to his chest.
It looks like he might give in for a moment, but then he steps back, breaking the contact.
“I, uh, left something in the gym. I should go get it.”
“Up to you.” Frustration bubbles up inside me, but I force a smile.
“I’ll pick you up for dinner later, okay?” His voice is gruff, and he seems to struggle with himself.
“Looking forward to it.” I hide my disappointment behind a smile.
As I shut the door behind me, I lean against it, closing my eyes. The memory of Blake’s body against mine, the heat in his eyes, and the tension in his voice swirl in my mind, leaving me frustrated and longing for more.