Page 6 of Faking It with the Enforcer

Not.

But again, it doesn’t really matter, because what would a man like him want with a girl like me? I’m completely inexperienced, and he’s way out of my league. Rich, sexy, successful,accomplished and mature. And I’m…I’m just Emily David. A girl with a dream.

I’ve never had these kinds of feelings before. I’ve had little crushes here and there, sure, but this feels different. Bigger and more consuming. Ballet has always been my sole focus, leaving almost no time for boys or dating or anything like that.

But Wolf…well, he’s not a boy. He’s a man. A gorgeous, gruff, intimidating man who makes me blush and makes my panties wet just by looking at me.

I let my eyes drift close again as I try to imagine what it would be like to kiss Wolf. I’ve never kissed anyone before, but I try to picture it now. What would his lips feel like? What would his hands feel like on my body? I think they’d be rough and strong, demanding and sure. My face heats in the darkness as warmth pools in my belly. What would his beard feel like against my skin? Would it be scratchy or surprisingly soft?

What would it feel like to be underneath him?

My pulse races, my breath catching as I imagine him touching me in ways no one ever has. His fingers trailing down my stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of my leggings. His hand cupping my pussy, one of his impossibly thick fingers sliding inside me, stretching and filling me.

I start to slip my hand between my legs, wanting to ease the ache that’s building there as I lie here and fantasize about Wolf. But just as my fingers brush against the edge of my panties, the alarm on my phone starts to chime, pulling me back to reality.

I sit up and turn the light on, squinting against the sudden brightness. As I rub my eyes and blink a few times, I take in the room around me and I’m reminded of how I very much don’t belong here. I don’t fit in Wolf’s luxurious home, with its plush carpeting and designer furniture and soaring views of the city. I don’t fit in Wolf’s world, which is filled with professional athletes and other rich, successful people, I’m sure. I don’t fit in this city,which is huge and intimidating and makes me miss home. And I’m terrified I won’t fit in my program at the National Ballet School, either. Yes, I had to audition and be offered a spot but…imposter syndrome is hard to ignore sometimes.

I stretch, arching my arms above my head and rolling my neck, trying to dispel the nerves and doubt curling through me like smoke. I’m probably just nervous about my first day, and probably just feeling a bit lonely and homesick because I spent the evening watching a movie by myself while Wolf was at his game. He left in the late afternoon and wasn’t home yet when I went to bed.

I shove my feet into my fuzzy pink slippers and pull a hoodie on over my tank top and pajama shorts, shuffling out towards the kitchen. My feet scuff quietly against the immaculate hardwood, and gray, early morning light pours in through the massive windows. The lights are still on in the city below, slowly winking out as morning crests. My stomach is a jumble of nerves as I move through the quiet penthouse. First day jitters are getting the best of me, and I’m hoping some tea and toast will settle my nervous tummy.

The last thing I need to do is puke all over my pointe shoes. God.

I round the corner into the kitchen, my steps faltering when I see that it isn’t empty. Wolf is leaning against the counter, a steaming mug of coffee cradled in his massive hands. He’s wearing a soft gray T-shirt that stretches taut across his impressive chest, the sleeves straining around his thick biceps. His dark hair is damp, like he’s just stepped out of the shower. My brain very unhelpfully supplies the image of Wolf, naked with soapy rivulets of water running over his broad body.

My clit pulses and my heart hammers against my ribs at the thought.

He turns in my direction, my breath catching as his gray eyes meet mine. My cheeks immediately go warm, and it’s like there’s an electric hum in the room.

“Morning,” I manage to squeak out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Morning, Emily,” he rumbles, and hearing my name in his deep voice does something to my insides, twisting them all in knots. He gestures to the fancy coffee maker on the counter. “Want a cup?”

I shake my head, moving towards the electric kettle. “I’m more of a tea drinker.”

He nods and opens a cupboard, pulling out a couple boxes of tea. “Take your pick.” I scan the labels, deciding on English Breakfast, and by the time I’ve plucked out a tea bag, he’s set a mug down on the counter in front of me.

We fall into a comfortable silence as I make my tea and toast and he sips his coffee. I can feel his eyes on me as I move around the kitchen, and it makes me hyperaware of every single movement I make. It makes goosebumps dance across my skin. It makes my stomach dip and swirl.

I mean, of course he’s looking at me. I’m only a few feet away from him, in his kitchen. I’m only reacting this way because of my crush on Wolf—a crush that’s only growing stronger by the minute.

We sit down together at the small bistro table to eat. It’s in a corner, ensconced by two massive windows that join at the seam, and I feel like a bird in a nest, perched above the city, surveying it all. His knees are almost touching mine underneath the table, so close that I can feel the heat of his legs. When he shifts, I can smell the warm, woodsy scent of him, and I have the sudden, insane urge to rub myself all over him like a cat.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I’m a ball of nerves today, and I’m not thinking straight. I’m anxious andhomesick and projecting all of that onto my very sexy—and very temporary—roommate.

Who most definitely would not be interested in a girl like me, with no experience and no boobs and nothing to—

“Nervous?” he asks softly, interrupting my swirling thoughts as I pick at my toast.

I nod. “Uh. Yeah. A little. I just…I want to do well. I want to prove that I deserve to be there.”

He takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’ll be great, Emily. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t talented. You’ve earned this.”

I small smile creeps across my face as I peer down at my tea. Warmth blooms through my chest at his kind words, at his confidence in me, at the way he says my name in that deep, rumbly voice of his. I smile shyly at him, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders.

We finish up our breakfast and then take our dishes into the kitchen.

“You just about ready? I’ll drive you,” he says as he loads the dishwasher.

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