Page 5 of The Hot Shot

“Man,” Rolondo mutters. “You’ve gone and done it now.”

I’m pretty sure I have. A hint of warning trickles down my spine, but I’m too irritated to heed it. We’ve been played,and now we’re expected to strip like good little boys? I don’t think so.

Chess slowly walks my way. I’ve had offensive coaches stare me down with less intensity, but they’ve never made my heart rate speed up and my skin heat. It’s unnerving, but damn if I’m going to let it show. I set my hands low on my hips and wait for the inevitable explosion.

She stops in front of me, close enough that I catch a faint whiff of sunshine and earth, as if she’s been sitting in a garden, soaking up the light. Our gazes lock. I expect her to rip into me, and maybe she’s going to—her lips part as if she’s about to. But she doesn’t speak. She just stands there as if frozen in place.

A weird shift pushes through the room. I don’t know what the fuck is happening. My focus narrows down to her, nothing else. The warmth of her body radiates outward and buffets mine. It’s as if she’s easing a hot hand down my abs. The sensation is so intense, my balls lift and my dick grows weighty and full.

What the actual fuck?

I can’t move. All my brainpower has gone south to take orders from my rising dick.

Said dick is insisting that we get closer. He wants a formal introduction.

No, no, no. Not happening.

I pull in a deep breath, and my brain gets scrambled further by her scent. I am in serious trouble here.

I’m almost grateful when she finally speaks, but her bedroom voice doesn’t help matters much. “Let’s be clear, Mr. Mannus. You’re in my house now. We have a job to do. I’ll do my part, and you do yours.” Her dark eyes search mine. “Make all the dick jokes you want. They won’t save you.”

No, I suspect they won’t. Like an inevitable collision with a charging linebacker, I suspect Ms. Chess Copper is going to take me down and make me feel it. Bitch of it is, I’m not sure if I hate the idea or kind of like it.

Two

Chess

Work flows as it always does. I cajole the shy, quiet big guy Dex into relaxing.

The showboat Rolondo, I simply shoot while he poses in as many ways as he can. I manage the flirty one, Jake, until he settles down. It’s fun, all of it.

And, yes, James is a stammering, blushing mess the whole time. The guys take it in stride. It’s clear they’re used to walking around naked, and they view their bodies as machines... for the most part.

Disrobing doesn’t seem to bother them in the least. Dicks, however remain a sensitive issue. Surprisingly, the flirt seems to be particularly worried.

“Shit,” Jake mutters as he drops his robe and a fine blush tints his cheeks. “What if I get wood? I mean, I’m not turned on or anything. Not, that you aren’t real cute... Shit. I didn’t mean that.” He shuffles his feet, his hands moving to cover his penis before they jerk away as if he doesn’t want to hide, either. “I’m just saying, I’m naked, and you’re going to be looking. That usually tends to make him stand at attention.”

The mere fact that he’s not hiding his fear endears him to me. I keep my expression neutral and take a shot to check the light. “If he decides to give us a wave, we ignore him. Just like I do whenever that happens.”

“Happens often?” he asks, brightening.

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, Mr. Ryder, that penises can have minds of their own.”

“Or lack of,” he agrees with a little laugh.

With that, he relaxes, and we get along just fine. All the while, there’s a burr under my skin, the annoying thud of my heart against my ribs. Because, unlike Jake, I am not at ease. Not one bit. And I know who is to blame.

The asshat, Mannus.

I could pretend I don’t know why he affects me when the others don’t, but it would be a lie. I’m attracted to him. And it is horrifying.

Usually, I need to like a man in order to feel a spark. Asshats who clearly think they’re hot shit do not get more than a passing glance from me. Why should they? I’m around good-looking men all the time. Physical beauty is nothing more than an appealing package. What’s below the surface is so much more interesting.

The fact that Finn Mannus, who annoys the hell out of me, has been tickling the edges of my thoughts since I’ve set eyes on him is not a welcome experience. He’s up next. I’m going to have to see him naked—keep my composure and photograph him, and it is messing with my head. A lot.

My insides are stupidly fluttering and swooping. My fingers are cold, but my skin is hot. I’m so annoyed with myself, I want to take five and slap my own face. At this rate, I’m going to need James to givemea “bitch, be cool” lecture.

I just need to get through the day, because soon it will all be a hazy memory. I’ll drink a glass of chilled white wine—maybe an icy shot of vodka, at this rate—and get ready for my date with... Shit, what was the guy’s name? I blink, unable to remember.