Page 35 of In Good Company

“See how you’re forming a triangle?” I ask, keeping my lips close to her ear because I love the way it makes her shiver.

She nods as she adjusts her grip on the club. “Mm-hmm,” she hums as extra confirmation.

“Good. You want to keep that triangle.” I place my hands over hers so I can help her guide the club correctly. I still wear my golf glove on my right hand, so there’s no press of our skin against one another there, but there is with our left hands. I keep my grip on top of hers, firm but not too hard.

I test swinging our joined arms a little. She moves freely with me, giving me complete control.

“Now, keep your back completely straight and your knees slightly bent,” I command. Air seems to be ripped from my lungs as she does exactly as she’s told, but the change of her position has her grinding perfectly against me.

My entire body is tense as I try not to react. She innocently did exactly what I told her. I need to keep things appropriate between us, but all I can think about is what it’d feel like to have her ass pressed against me with no barrier of fabric between us.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to rid myself of the mental picture of her bent over in front of me.

Where are these thoughts coming from? And why are they coming at the most terrible of times?

“Everything okay?” Lucy asks, her voice quiet and unsure.

I clear my throat, hoping she can’t feel the way my cock hardens at the press of our bodies. “Yes,” I manage to get out despite the hard clench of my jaw.

It’s a natural response. It isn’t her.I repeat the words over and over in my head, but I don’t believe myself for a moment.

As much as I want to deny it, itisher. With each passing day, the more I go from being interestedbyher to being interestedinher.

“What next?” Lucy asks, pulling me from my thoughts once again.

“Make sure you keep your weight on the balls of your feet. Remember, your back stays straight, and so does your left arm.” I guide our arms backward to show her what it should feel like for the proper swing.

“And hit just like this,” I finish, taking her through the full motion. From the backswing to the downswing, I show her how to go through the entire motion. “Let your hips lead at the end, and then your torso follows. And just like that, you’ve done it.”

She lets out a sarcastic laugh. “It isn’t that simple for the rest of us, Callahan. But okay, I’m going to try.”

Before, it bothered me to have her say my full name. But this time when she says it…it excites me. It’s said intimately, like she knows me well enough to feel comfortable calling me whatever she wants.

I allow one more moment of feeling the press of our bodies from chest to thighs before taking a step back and giving her the chance to practice what I just taught her.

“Now, put it all together and hit the ball that way.” I point to the hole.

Lucy stares at me, her eyes wide with worry. She pulls her plump bottom lip in between her teeth as her eyes dart from mine to the flag on the green and then back to me. “What if I mess up and make us lose?”

“It doesn’t matter how many chances it takes, Lucy. We’re here for the fun of it and to make a charitable donation. Now, hit the damn ball,” I add, keeping my tone soft despite the words.

The bluntness must ease some of her nerves because a beautiful smile spreads across her cheeks. Her shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. “I’ve got this,” she says quietly, putting herself in the proper swinging position once again.

“Line up your left foot with the ball,” I instruct.

She nods. I’m impressed with how much she remembers from our little lesson. She spreads her feet perfectly shoulder width apart and keeps her hands in the correct position on the club.

I watch closely, my palm running over the stubble on my cheeks as she pulls back on the swing. My stomach drops as it seems like her swing happens in slow motion. I don’t know why I care so much about whether she hits the ball or not. It doesn’t matter. I don’t give a damn if we place last during this event because I’ll still feel like I won by getting time alone with her.

But I don’t want to see the disappointment on her face again. I can’t stand to hear her cry of protest and frustration at completely whiffing the ball.

So I watch, my entire body tight, as she attempts to hit the ball.

Her form is perfect.

She seems concentrated but relaxed.

She’s got this.

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