An endless series of oh gods rips the air, and I follow her there, chasing my own release, grunting and groaning, and loving how fucking good we are together.

Then, footsteps sound in the hall, the clack of soles on the floor.

Natalie’s eyes go wide, and I scramble off her, my dick still hard and covered in us. She pops up, and I’ve never seen someone get dressed as fast as this woman.

The click of the door unlocking lands in my ears as I yank up my briefs and jeans, then zip them closed. I don’t even have time to button the top button. I just smooth a hand on my T-shirt, crumple over and moan, like Natalie landed one in my ribs.

“I didn’t know you were going to do the dropkick thing in my stomach,” I mutter as the door opens and a redhead with a short bob walks in.

“Oh. I didn’t realize you’d still be here, Natalie. How’s it going? I forgot my hairbrush.”

Hairbrush? You came back for a fucking hairbrush? Learn to work the finger comb, darling.

“Hello, Mrs. McKeon. I haven’t seen one,” Natalie says, her tone still breathy.

Mrs. McKeon arches an eyebrow. “Looks like you could use one, though,” the woman says, gesturing to Natalie’s messy hair.

My heart catches with worry that she’s been busted. This woman let her use the studio, and now she’s going to karate chop Natalie for turning it into a bow-chicka-wow-wow pad. Natalie’s cheeks imitate a beet as she runs her hand through her sex-tousled hair. “Oh, I . . .”

“She’s a fierce one,” I say, interjecting. “She was whooping me something good with her black belt moves.”

The redhead crosses her arms. “I can’t wait to see the video series when it’s done, then. What moves did you work on tonight?”

“Headlocks, mostly,” I say, with a straight face. “Lots and lots of headlocks.”

28

Natalie: I can’t keep risking my job like that. My other job. The karate classes.

Wyatt: I’m sorry, Nat. I feel terrible.

Natalie: Not your fault.

Wyatt: All mine. I should have been smarter. Taken you to my home or something.

Natalie: It’s my fault, too. This may surprise you (not!) but I kinda love the risky sex.

Wyatt: Shocked. Shocked, I tell you.

Natalie: With you, I should add. I like it with you. It just does something to me. The danger. The chance of getting caught.

Wyatt: Um. Yeah! It’s fucking hot.

Natalie: But it’s so risky.

Wyatt: Definitely too dangerous . . .

Natalie: It really is. I know you tried, but when Mrs. McKeon asked me to stay after you left . . . well, let’s just say, I get the impression she’s not too happy with me.

Wyatt: Ah, shit. Nat. I feel terrible. What can I do to help?

Natalie: Become ugly. Act like an asshole. Stop being so damn caring.

Wyatt: Likewise, could you start acting like a cold-hearted bitch who’ll stab me in the back? It’d make it so much easier to keep my hands off you.

Natalie: If you could get a reversal on your sense of humor so I wouldn’t laugh so much around you, that’d also help.

Wyatt: While we’re at it, please stop having so damn much in common with me.

Natalie: And another thing. Maybe you can quit trying to help me succeed at my passion.

Wyatt: And how about you cut out the crap with making me sandwiches? That was crossing a line.

Natalie: I’m glad you liked the sandwich :)

Wyatt: Um, I should confess I gave it to a homeless guy.

Natalie: That’s so sweet. See? That’s what I mean. You just do these things . . .

Wyatt: Wait. Before you think I’m sweet, let me be honest. I was afraid you were poisoning me.

Natalie: SO YOU TRIED TO POISON A HOMELESS PERSON INSTEAD???

Wyatt: No! I freaked out. My mind went haywire. I told you about my ex, and what she tried to do to my business. Sometimes thinking a woman is out to get me is my default setting. It was stupid and wrong to think that about you, but I did it anyway, imagining you were up to something. I tossed the sandwich, and later I found out a homeless guy had loved it, and well, I felt like a schmuck.

Natalie: That is a little schmucky.

Wyatt: A world-class schmuck, I should add. Will you forgive me?

Natalie: Yes, because you’ve already been punished enough by missing out on my spectacular lunch. I rock in the sandwich department.

Wyatt: Maybe I can make it up to you with a stir-fry. Or a southwestern shrimp soup. Or this new blackened catfish fajita recipe that’s awesome.

Natalie: My RSVP to all three is yes. And also, I want you to know . . . I get it. I truly do. We all have fears. You have a fear of being taken. And hey, my last boyfriend was boring, so I have a fear of being bored.

Wyatt: How’d a woman like you ever wind up with a dull dude? You’re the opposite. You’re the most exciting, interesting, fascinating woman I’ve ever known.

Natalie: At the time, I thought I needed to be more serious. Less adventuresome.

Wyatt: Your sense of adventure is one of my favorite things about you, Nat.

Natalie: Ditto.

Natalie: Also, I was wrong.

Wyatt: Wrong? About what? Your sense of adventure?

Natalie: No. Remember in Vegas when I said there was no such thing as a calorie-free chocolate . . . or a guy who’s funny, well hung, and sweet?

Wyatt: YOU FOUND CALORIE-FREE CHOCOLATE?? I’m coming over.

Natalie: I wish!!! But I did come across this guy who’s funny, well hung, and sweet.

Wyatt: No way. He sounds like a unicorn.