Dirty Games (Tropical Temptation)

That got through to her, though not the way he intended. She jerked back as if he’d slapped her. “Jesus, Luke. I’m not trying to buy you—”

“Not fair to you.” He caught her wrists to hold her to him, because he needed to clarify. “You’re here, thousands of miles from your normal support network…”

I miss you, too.

“…counting on me to help you accomplish something very important to you.” Calling on every ounce of self-discipline he possessed, he levered them both up, and placed her on her feet. Then he found the towel she’d lost sometime during the tumble and tossed it over her like a cape. “This relationship is physical, and intimate. Everything about our respective roles makes you vulnerable. I’m controlling all your fundamentals right now, including what you eat, when you work, when you rest. That fosters a huge sense of reliance. Acting on that vulnerability isn’t fair to you. It exploits your trust.”

He couldn’t judge by her expression whether she accepted his explanation. Unlikely, given she didn’t see herself as needing anyone’s protection, especially not from her own instincts. But she did, and the very fact that she required his services spoke volumes about that. It was past time for him and his unrepentant hard-on to get out, before he broke his own rules. He turned and walked toward the door.

Her voice stopped him at the threshold. “Maybe you should trust me to know my own mind?”

He shook his head and kept walking. “I know better.”

Chapter Ten

Quinn couldn’t bear to look, but she heard every tap as Luke entered her assessment results into the tracking app on his tablet. She pulled her spine straighter, because good posture made a girl leaner. Right?

His long, resigned sigh dropped an anchor of failure in her stomach. She opened her eyes and searched his face. “Are you kidding me?”

He gave her a grave look. “I am. Congratulations. You’ve earned a reward.”

Shock paralyzed her vocal cords for a second. “Seriously? How much progress have I made?”

“All of our key measurements are down. Your overall BMI is down. Your strength and endurance are way up. Look at the definition you’ve got here”—he traced a finger along her biceps—“and here.” The finger wandered down her torso, where she could see some actual abs now. “The better question is how do you feel?”

Horny would be her answer, especially if his fingertip wandered over any more of her body, but she cleared her throat and said, “Good. Energetic. Like if I can handle everything you’ve dished out over the past four weeks in here, I can handle an afternoon of takes on an action scene.”

“Great.” He walked to the little fridge and pulled a paper bag out of the small freezer section. “Do you want your reward here, or by the pool?”

By the pool sounded more relaxing. Her villa sounded even more relaxing, but he hadn’t set foot in her domain for three days—since he’d treated her like a woman so screwed up she didn’t know her own mind. He was clearly trying to enforce boundaries, and she was trying to let him because his rejection, no matter how well-intentioned, hurt like a bitch. But the notion of spending time with him somewhere besides the gym tempted her too much.

“Pool.” She skipped out the door, into thick air, and dappled afternoon sunlight. “What’s my reward?”

He strolled into the palm-shrouded courtyard at a more sedate pace. “Something from your list of favorites. Two things, actually. Have a seat.” He pointed to the chaise lounges arranged side-by-side near the pool, with a small, wrought iron table between them.

She plopped down on one and watched as he placed the bag on the table. When she reached for it, he swatted her wrist. “Hands off, grabby. I have something to say before you dig in.”

“Talk fast, Luke. I want my reward.”

“Hmm. It’s warm out here. Maybe I’ll take a swim first.” He sent her a mild smile, and then stripped off his shirt.

“Don’t you dare—” His shirt landed in her face. She swept it aside, and prepared to toss it at him, but her mouth went dry at the wide planes of his chest, the hashtag of his abs, and the enticing line of dark hair trailing from below his navel to where it disappeared beneath the drawstring of his gray sweat shorts. Did he have anything on under them? One little tug and she could find out. As if he’d read her mind, a truly impressive muscle twitched beneath the gray sweats, and lifted in a gravity-defying show of strength.

She raised her eyes to find him staring down at her with his scowling, clench-jawed look. Forbidding was the word that sprang to mind, as if she needed a reminder that no matter what she did, or how much he wanted her, he’d never actually approve of her. Long-established defense mechanisms had her mustering up a smirk. “I thought you said my reward was in the bag?”

To her surprise, the comment earned her a laugh, and she realized some of his scowl had been self-directed. “I would leave the choice to you, but I don’t really have any hope of competing with what’s in the bag.” He lowered himself to the other chaise, his big frame dominating the space, legs parted to accommodate hers, the insides of his knees almost brushing the outsides of hers.

Like a poorly trained puppy, her attention rambled over the thickly braided muscles lining his thighs and honed in on the barrier of loose, gray cotton splayed for her gaze, thanks to his manspreading. Was it a trick of the light, or did she detect—her vision narrowed and salt filled her mouth—sweat-dampened fabric? He’d said he was warm. Her tongue crept to the front of her mouth as she imagined freeing his balls from the shorts and cooling them down with her tongue.

The sound of Luke clearing his throat had her fixing her gaze on his face. His expression was entirely too knowing. “Before I lose your attention entirely, I want to tell you I’m proud of you.”

Proud? She snapped her head up so fast, she nearly bit her tongue. “You are?”

“Yeah. This is not an easy process. Getting results requires physical and mental discipline, and frankly, not everyone can follow through. But you can.” Clear hazel eyes leveled on her, and he added, “I am very proud of how hard you’ve worked.”

A lump in her throat threatened to choke her. This was no doubt part of the program—establish need, assert control, dismantle resistance, and then slowly build confidence—but even so, his praise felt like rain after a thousand-year drought. To talk herself down before she did something stupid like burst into tears, she nudged his knee with hers. “You sound so surprised. Didn’t think I had it in me, did you?”

He nudged her right back. “I knew you had it in you. Eddie wouldn’t have called me for a client who didn’t have it in her.”