Page 19 of Fumbling for Perfection

The woman folds her hands in front of her and looks over my shoulder. “Hang on a minute. I’ll be right back.”

I watch her walk toward the space with the green turf, and when I see the blonde ponytail and the most perfect ass encased in tight, black leggings, I bite back my groan. Nope. My imagination hadn’t over-exaggerated any of my fantasies the past few weeks while I had to pleasure myself with my hand.

The vision of Riley I’ve had tattooed in my brain was one hundred fucking percent spot on. I can still feel her strong thighs wrapped around my hips as I thrust into her. Not needing to sport wood in my jeans, I shake off the memory and watch as the front desk lady talks animatedly, her arms flailing, and fans her face with her hand.

Riley shakes her head until I see my name form on the other woman’s lips. Riley’s eyes grow wide and she clutches her clipboard to her chest the same time she flicks her gaze in my direction.

I tip my chin in greeting, and, even with the distance between us, I can see her cheeks bloom to a deep pink that matches the color of her nipples. Fuck, but those tits are God’s gift. I tuck my thumbs in the front pockets of my jeans and do my best to appear cool, calm, and collected as she makes her way to me.

“Walker?”

The receptionist lady stands by her side and doesn’t hide her interest in whatever there is between Riley and me.

“Hey. Long time no see,” I say, hoping I sound as chill as I’m pretending to be.

It’s been a hot minute since a woman had me stumbling over myself to spend time with her. Not since I was sixteen and tucked away at prep school in northern New York and Holly Jones showed me her tits.

She attended an all-girls academy a few miles from my Hell. Holly was a walking wet dream, and I had my fair share before she let me cop a feel. She was a tease but well worth the wait. I’m ashamed at how far I went to chase her down around town.

Once I got a taste of her though and realized she thrived on stringing as many guys along as she could, I lost interest. Quick.

Riley, however, is in a league of her own. A natural beauty. Sweet and sexy. Shy but aggressive when she’s about to climax. Fucking perfection. And not a clinger. Bonus points for that.

For the past decade, I’ve had to weed out decent women from the jersey chasers. Riley having no idea who I am is an added bonus. Granted, my intel on her is just as limited. And I’m okay with that.

She avoids making eye contact with me and glances to her left. “Thanks, Julie. I’ve got it from here.”

Julie doesn’t even pretend to hide her grin as she looks back and forth between Riley and me. “No problem. I’ll let you know when your next client arrives.”

When she’s back behind her desk and not within hearing distance, Riley’s death grip on her clipboard becomes even more apparent. Finally, her gaze meets mine.

“Walker.” She licks her lips, out of nerves I’m sure, but my dick thinks otherwise. “I...what are you doing here? I mean, how did you know I worked here?”

Even if I was worried about her being a clinger, she just doused those fears with a bucket of ice-cold water.

“You told me about Boston Strong the night we met.”

Those gorgeous chocolate eyes grow big and round. “You remembered that?”

“Of course I did.”

I remembered every fucking thing she told me. Every curve of her body. Every sound she made when I was kissing, sucking, licking, fucking her. I can’t tell her how she’s infiltrated every square centimeter of space in my head or I’ll freak her the fuck out. Hell, I’m freaked the fuck out by how much I’ve obsessed over her.

“Do you really want a tour?”

“I’d love to see the center, yeah.”

She loosens her grip on her clipboard and lets out a soft breath. “Okay, well, over here is obviously the weight room portion of the center. It gets busy in the afternoons when the kids get out of school. It’s trickier scheduling time for them and our paying clients in the summer.”

It was the curve of her hips and her doe eyes that lured me across the dance floor in Rhode Island. Then it was her sense of humor, shyness, and sexy as fuck mouth that held me captive. But learning about the program she developed for underprivileged kids sealed the deal on my obsession with her.

“Do your paying clients ever give you a hard time about having so many teenagers around?”

Not that there are any right now at ten o’clock in the morning on a Wednesday.

“If they do, then Boston Strong isn’t the right place for them. We’re up front before we take on any clients that our mission is to raise money and support kids who can’t afford PT or extra conditioning and coaching they may want or need. And we let the kids know that their scholarship can be taken away if we ever catch them using illegal substances or if they mess around in the center.”

“That’s admirable.” I follow her to the green turf at the back of the facility where therapists are working with patients. “Do you get a lot of professional athletes here with Boston being a hub for hockey, basketball, baseball, and football?”

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