The Summer Games: Out of Bounds

Copyright © 2016 R.S. Grey

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including
electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief
quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a piece of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons,
living or dead, is coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away
to other people. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your
use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for
respecting the author’s work.
Published: R.S. Grey 2016
authorrsgrey@gmail.com
Editing: Editing by C. Marie
Proofreading: Jennifer at JaVa Editing
Cover Design: R.S. Grey
Cover Model: Joseph Cannata
For Natasha
PROLOGUE

Brie

SCALDING WATER SEARED my skin. I should have reached back to

turn the shower nozzle colder, but I hesitated. My muscles ached from my
workout and for the moment, the pulsing heat offered a sweet escape from
the mounting soreness. I hunched forward another inch and let the water
drip between my shoulder blades and down my spine. I lathered a loofa
with body wash and dragged it down across my neck and breasts, easing the
tension from my body as I squeezed my eyes closed. It’d been another long
day in the gym and I had new bruises to show for it.
It was the beginning of summer and the Olympic games were right
around the corner. I had nothing to look forward to but days spent in the
gym, sharpening my skills for Rio. For the last few years, my life had
followed the same routine: I woke up early, scarfed down breakfast, and
caught the 8:00 AM bus that stopped a block away from the tiny one-
bedroom apartment I shared with my mom. Thirty minutes later, the bus
would drop me off across town in the ritzy area of Austin where wealthy
families could afford the exorbitant fees for gymnastics classes. I’d carve
out a spot for myself in the gym and spend my day training in solitude, too
advanced for even the elite level classes. I didn’t mind though; it was easier
if I kept to myself and focused on my own skills. At the end of the day, I’d
ride the bus back home and crash, too tired to worry about anything other
than nursing my aching muscles.
It was monotonous to say the least, but that day had been slightly
different, made interesting by the announcement made by my coach, Igor,
in the middle of my floor rotation. He’d pulled me aside and I’d focused on
his grim expression. I’d barely comprehended his words the first time, but
when he repeated the news, I stilled.
“Coach Winter was hospitalized last night. He won’t be the head coach
in Rio anymore.”
Coach Winter was the most famous women’s gymnastics coach in the
Unites States, a household name even to those who didn’t follow the sport.
He had filled the head coach position for the U.S. women’s gymnastics
team for the last thirty years, shaping young gymnasts and helping them
win gold for their country. He’d been there for the Athens games, the
London games—all of them.
I’d only worked with him a few times. His gym was an hour north of
Austin and I didn’t have the means to drive there every day for workouts.
Still, it had always been known he would be coaching me for the games in
Rio.
“The USGA has already appointed a new coach to fill his spot,” Igor
continued.
My eyes widened at the news. “So soon?”
He nodded.
“Is it you?” I asked, hopeful.
He shook his head. “Erik Winter, his son. Turns out, you and the rest of
the team will leave for Seattle to train with him for a month before you head
down to the games.”
 The news had come as a shock, considering there were already plans in
place. The rest of the team and I were expected to train with Coach Winter
at his gym in North Austin for a month leading up to the games. We were
expected to stay on his property and fly out to Rio from there. Now—
suddenly—we were going to Seattle to train with his son? A coach I’d
never met?
I turned around and let the hot water run down my chest, dipping the
loofah down across my stomach and thighs. I closed my eyes and tried to
recall facts about Coach Winter’s son, but I came up blank. Truthfully, I
hadn’t even realized Coach Winter had a son. During the few times I’d been
around him, he’d never once mentioned him.
Erik Winter.
I replayed the name in my head as I washed off and stepped out of the
shower. I wrapped myself up in an old towel. It smelled like lilacs—the
same scent my mother had washed our clothes in for the last twenty years—
but my eyes caught on the fraying edges. Soon, we wouldn’t be able to
ignore how threadbare it was.
My mother was still at work so I had our bedroom to myself. I tightened
the towel across my chest and fired up the ancient laptop we kept on a small
desk beneath the window. The heavy curtain was drawn, keeping out the
light; it was better that way. The view of the dilapidated apartment complex
and our less than savory neighbors was better left to the imagination.
The internet browser was already pulled up on the computer as I took a
seat; I’d been looking at my bank account the night before and had
forgotten to close the tab before heading to bed. Even though I tried to
avoid it, my eyes still caught on the account balance frozen on the screen:
$467.32.
 I closed the tab, ignored the dread filling my stomach, and typed Erik’s
name into the Google search bar. I was curious about my new coach.
It wasn’t hard to find information about his gym, Seattle Flyers. It was
one of the most well-known training facilities in the nation. There were
articles highlighting Seattle Flyers’ rise to notoriety, the gymnasts Erik had
coached, and the type of training one could expect at his world-class
facility. Yet, there was hardly any information on Erik himself.
I gathered from a Wikipedia page that he was 29, unmarried, and an ex-
gymnast. Beyond that, there was nothing.
I clicked over to the images page, expecting the same result, but
sprinkled in among photos of his gym, I found a single professional
headshot dated back a few months. I clicked to expand the image and the
moment his face filled my screen, my gut clenched and I tightened the
towel across my chest. I’m not sure what I’d been expecting—maybe
someone more similar to the grizzled Soviet-era coaches I’d had growing
up—but the man I saw staring back at me made my stomach clench and my
heart pound a heavy rhythm against my breastbone. I let myself linger over
his features, inhaling his ink-black hair and sharp jaw before settling on a
pair of blue eyes that seemed to reach right through the computer screen
and see me, alone and naked, still wrapped in my towel from my shower.
Shit.
I exited out of the page so fast I nearly broke the mouse, and then I
stared at the blank computer screen, trying to slow my heart. When I
blinked, I could still see the remnants of his face burned into my vision. His
appearance was shocking, unnerving. I tried to shake away the feeling,
repositioning myself on the chair and adjusting my towel.
Igor had explained that I needed to book a ticket for Seattle, that I
would be leaving in two weeks to train with Erik, but after seeing him, I
wanted to protest. Surely they’d made the wrong choice. He was too young,
too handsome, too much.
Voices outside the apartment window drew me out of my thoughts and I
loosened the fist I had clenched in my lap.
What does it matter that Erik looks like that? A coach was a coach, and
if the Gymnastics Association had picked him to take over for his dad, then
I’d trust them.
As if to further drive home that point, I had an email waiting for me in
my inbox from a representative of the Association. There was an
information packet attached that was generic and short. It outlined where
we would be training in Seattle and what kind of accommodations Erik
would have for us. I skimmed through the packet briefly; the only detail I
paid close attention to was the date and time I was supposed to arrive in
Seattle.
June 29th at 2:00 PM.
I looked up flights to Seattle-Tacoma, and the only options that fit the
itinerary were completely out of my budget. Way, way out of my budget. My
only option was to book the earliest, cheapest flight of the day, which would
put me in Seattle at 8:30 AM. I booked the early flight and then clicked the
hyperlinked email address I’d found in the information packet. My hands
shook as I typed, though I tried to convince myself they didn’t. This would
be my first interaction with my new coach and for some reason, I wanted to
come across as mature and confident. I wanted to impress him.

To: EricWinter@SeattleFlyers.com
From: BrieLWatson@Gmail.com
Subject: Early Arrival
Hello,

My name is Brie Watson and I look forward to training with you this
summer. I’ve just received word about your dad and I’m very sorry to
hear he is sick. I’ve only had the honor of working with him a few times,
but he is a wonderful coach. I’ll keep him in my thoughts, as well as you
and your family.

I know you must have a lot on your plate, but I just read the information
packet and saw that I am scheduled to arrive at 2:00 PM on the 29th.
Unfortunately, the only flights still available are in the morning, so I will
be arriving to your house earlier than expected, around 9:00 AM. I hope
that’s not too much of a problem.

Looking forward to working with you,

Brie
CHAPTER ONE

Erik

I WOKE UP ten minutes before my alarm was set to go off. 8:20 AM—
early, and yet I felt like I was running late as I tossed the blanket aside and
stood to stretch. My head pounded. The fourth beer at the bar the night
before had been a mistake; the shots had been plain stupid. I could blame it
all on the girl sleeping in my bed—the brunette beauty I’d met at the bar.
She was wild, loud, and drunk, shoving drinks in front of me like she was
hoping to take advantage of the situation. I’d let her; I’d gone to the bar to
get drunk so I could escape the anxiety mounting inside. The girl sleeping
on the opposite side of my bed had proved a good distraction—a loud
distraction.
She’d been at the bar to celebrate her birthday. Or had it been her
bachelorette party? I blinked and wiped away sleep from my eyes just
before my gaze landed on the crinkled sash lying on the ground beside her
dress. She’d worn it the entire night, and when I reached down to pick it up,
I sighed. BIRTHDAY QUEEN.
I dropped the sash back onto her dress and cleared my throat, hoping
she’d stir in her sleep. Nothing. The sheet barely covered her naked body,
and while I could appreciate her supple curves and the fact that her breasts
were nearly spilling out from the top of the sheet, I wasn’t looking for
round two. I walked closer and patted her shoulder.
 “Hey…” I realized I didn’t know her name. “Birthday Queen, wake up.”
Still nothing. If anything, she fell deeper into sleep. Christ. I turned and
headed for the bathroom, purposely leaving the door open as I brushed my
teeth and ran the faucet. I splashed water on my face and tried to will my
headache away. You’re not hungover. You didn’t drink too much last night.
I made as much noise as possible as I got ready for the day, but by the
time I’d finished, she still hadn’t moved.
Fuck it.
I headed down to the kitchen for coffee, too tired and hungover to worry
about her. The newspaper from the day before was still sitting on the island
where I’d left it untouched. The paper had hand-delivered it, ensuring I saw
my name and photo splashed across the front page. It was just a local
Seattle paper—hardly the New York Times—but it was intimidating.

New Winter for Summer Games

Gymnastics giant steps down during health scare, son vaults into top job

I turned my back to it as I reached for my old coffee grinder. It chopped

beans just fine, but it sounded like a spaceship with a blown muffler. I let it
run for a few seconds longer than necessary, nearly blowing out my
eardrums in the process, and then I listened for any sort of stirring from
upstairs. Nada. I should have checked her pulse.
I didn’t usually need one-night stands to wake up and leave at the crack
of dawn, but it was a big day. I needed her gone before the rest of the team
showed up in a few hours.
The team.
Five girls.
 Five teenage girls invading my space for the next month in preparation
for the games in Rio.
It was an idea I hadn’t quite wrapped my head around. The position as
the head coach of the U.S. women’s gymnastics team had been uncontested
for the last thirty years. My father had held the job for a year longer than I’d
been alive and now here I was, poised to take over for him whether he liked
it or not.
My father’s medical leave had come as a shock to everyone in the
gymnastics world. The team had already qualified for the games, competed
in Worlds, and developed relationships with my father, but when his heart
had put him in the hospital, the committee had been forced to scramble to
replace him.
I wasn’t their first choice, but in the end I was the best choice. I had
experience in both training as an Olympic athlete and coaching Olympic
athletes. My gym in Seattle was the best place to train on the west coast and
on top of that, I already had the infrastructure in place. I had a guesthouse
and a small gym on my property where the girls could do their early
morning workouts. For practice, we’d convene in my Seattle gym where
they’d have uninterrupted time to work on their routines for Rio.
For one month, I’d push them harder than they’d ever been pushed, and
they’d hate me for it, but in the end, I knew they’d come back from Rio
with gold.
“There you are.”
I turned to find Birthday Queen posing on the last stair wearing one of
my shirts as a dress. Property of U.S. Men’s Gymnastics Team 2004. She
must have dug deep into my dresser to find it; that thing hadn’t seen the
light of day in years. She pinched the shirt between her thumb and
forefinger and pulled it away from her body.
 “Were you really an Olympic gymnast?” She seemed surprised by the
notion. “You don’t really look like you have the body type.” She dragged
her gaze across my broad chest, down over my sweatpants. “You’re really
tall.”
I’d heard the same thing my entire life. I shook my head, staring down
at the words on her shirt before turning back to the coffee grinder. “No. I
wasn’t an Olympic gymnast.”
My answer probably confused her more, but I didn’t feel like explaining
it.
“Listen, I’ve got to head into town for a few errands…”
“That’s cool,” she replied, unfazed. “Want to get dinner or something
later?”
I thought of the team.
“Dinner probably isn’t an option for a few months.”
“Months?” she asked, confused.
“Listen, do you want me to call you an Uber or something?”
She finally understood. “No, it’s cool. I’ll have my friend come pick me
up.”
She spun on her heels and headed back up the stairs, presumably to
change back into her clothes and stuff my old t-shirt back into a drawer,
forgotten once again. I made two cups of coffee, poured hers in a Styrofoam
cup, and set it beside a granola bar. After I made sure she’d see it on her
way back down the stairs, I reached for my own cup of coffee and the
rolled-up newspaper I’d been avoiding.
It was a cold morning, foggy and dark, but the slight chill in the air
woke up my senses as I stepped out onto the porch. I nearly reached back
inside for a jacket, but I took a few sips of the coffee instead. It warmed me
from the inside out as I leaned against the wooden banister and pulled the
thin rubber band off the newspaper. I knew it wouldn’t do me any good to
read it—thus far, I’d ignored every article and news story they’d aired about
me—but this time curiosity won.
I whipped open the paper and found the article staring back at me. I
folded down the bottom half of the page where they’d blown up a photo of
me from my time as an elite gymnast, then started from the first line of the
article.

With just over a month remaining before American athletes pack their
reds, whites, and blues and head southeast toward Rio de Janeiro, a handful
of Olympians are suddenly gathering in the northwest. The emergency
summit is U.S. Gymnastics’ response to the surprise announcement of
perennial coach Filip Winter’s indefinite leave of absence for an
undisclosed medical condition. At a press conference Tuesday, the
committee revealed that Winter’s son Erik, 29, would not only be taking the
reins in Rio, but would also be hosting the newly inherited team at his
Seattle-based gym during the weeks leading up to competition.
“Obviously changing leadership so close to the Olympics is hardly
ideal,” committee President Sandra Bixby said. “However, I have the
utmost confidence in Coach Erik Winter and I look forward to seeing the
team grow together in Seattle.”
Contrary to the committee’s words of support, sources indicate many
gymnastics insiders were unhappy with the selection.
“It’s nepotism, clear and simple,” said one ESPN pundit. “The man’s
father runs the program for 30 years, steps down, and within a day his son’s
got the job? What is this, North Korea?”
Contrary to allegations of familial favoritism, it soon became clear that
the largest source of opposition to Erik Winter’s appointment is actually his
ailing father. A source close to the family made it clear that the elder Winter
lamented his son’s “inexperience” and described him as “smart, but
ultimately a quitter.”
The scathing words come from a man who is no stranger to success.
Filip Winter competed in the 1964 Olympics, leading a Swedish team to all-
around gold. Subsequently, he immigrated to the United States to open a
training center in Austin, Texas. Since the 1970s, Filip and his wife Sarah
have consistently produced Olympic-quality athletes year after year. This
list includes Erik, although he was forced to retire and withdraw from the
Olympic team in 2004 due to a chronic shoulder injury. Perhaps it was
Erik’s decision to retire that kicked off the decade of iciness between father
and son.
“I’m not interested in discussing the past,” Erik Winter said when asked
to respond to his detractors. “It’s my job to get these girls up to speed
before Rio and bring gold back to U.S. Gymnastics. Everything else is just
noise.”
After disappointing showings at the past two Olympiads, the volume is
almost certain to rise before it falls for Team USA and its new coach. Here’s
to hoping the Pacific Northwest will provide the peace and quiet they’ll
need to prepare for the storm.

My father’s comments were news to me. After everything, he couldn’t

resist a jab. He’s still the same prick he was ten years ago, I thought
defiantly.
But whether I admitted it or not, the pressure to succeed was getting to
me. Yes, it was an honor to have been selected, but after reading my father’s
words, it felt like an albatross around my neck. Turning around an
underachieving team so close to the Olympics was basically an impossible
task and made me suspect I was less of a savior for USGA and more its
sacrificial lamb. Any failure at the games would just reinforce my doubters.
The sound of tires on the gravel drive pulled my attention back to the
present. I straightened up and closed the paper, a sick feeling already fixed
in the pit of my stomach.
A black SUV pulled into view in the driveway, and I was thankful for
the distraction. The team wasn’t due to arrive for another few hours, so the
SUV was likely for my one-night stand, some white knight there to rescue
her from the asshole kicking her out at the crack of dawn. I tossed the paper
aside and turned to shout up the stairs for Birthday Queen, but paused when
the car door slammed behind me. I whipped back around and watched as a
driver in an ill-fitting black suit held open the back door and mystery
passenger stepped out from behind the tinted windows. I realized a moment
too late that it wasn’t Birthday Queen’s friend; it was Brie Watson.
I recognized her from the televised competitions I’d watched over the
last few months. On TV, her long legs seemed to make her tower over the
other girls, but it was an optical illusion. She was tiny in real life, slender
and petite, more fitting of a New York City ballet production than a
gymnastics competition.
Her chestnut brown hair was braided loosely down her back and her
high cheekbones held my attention as the driver dropped her suitcases
beside her on the gravel drive.
She hadn’t noticed me standing on the porch—she was too enchanted
by the woods surrounding my old house. I leaned forward and propped
myself up on the bannister, then finally, her penny-colored gaze made its
way to where I stood, staring at her from the front porch.
I thought she’d blush, embarrassed by the fact that she couldn’t follow
simple instructions—last time I checked “arrive at 2:00 PM” meant arrive
at 2:00 PM—but the fact that she didn’t seem the least bit apologetic pissed
me off. I was standing on my porch, shirtless.
“Why are you here this early?” I asked gruffly, bypassing a formal
greeting.
She arched a brow, scanning over my bare chest quickly before glancing
away. I didn’t care that I was meeting her without a shirt on. She’d shown
up early and unannounced, and I was under-caffeinated and pissed off after
reading my father’s comments—not to mention I had a half-dressed
Birthday Queen inside my house. This—a gymnast arriving early with a
smug smile on her face—was the last thing I needed.
“Is this how you’re greeting all the girls, shirtless and rude? Because by
my watch,” she said, glancing at her wrist. “I’m right on time.”
“Either your watch is five hours ahead or you’re incapable of telling
time.”
She frowned. “Did you see my email?”
“I haven’t seen anything from you.”
“I sent it two weeks ago,” she protested, pulling her phone out of her
back pocket and striding over to where I stood. “See?”
I glanced down at the screen where she’d pulled up an email. It only
took me a second to realize her mistake.
“You mistyped my name in the email address.”
“What? I copied it directly from the packet the USGA sent.”
She seemed truly upset about her mistake, but I picked up the mug of
coffee from the porch ledge and turned for the door.
“You can wait out here until the rest of your team arrives.”
“What? Are you kidding me?! That’ll be hours from now.”
Her words caught me off guard. With those fragile features and dainty
build, I would have painted her as meek, but her assertive tone proved
otherwise.
I clutched the newspaper in my hand and whipped the screen door open
hard enough that it clapped against the hard siding. She yelled out after me,
but I shook my head and continued inside without her. I was too hungover
for this.
CHAPTER TWO

Brie

AS OF THAT morning, I had $203.52 to my name. I’d checked my

balance as I’d brushed my teeth, refreshing my phone screen twice before
realizing the decimal wouldn’t move to the right two spaces no matter how
long I stared at it. My mom had put some cash into my hand on my way out
of our small one-bedroom apartment, even though she probably needed it
more than I did. I’d sworn to her I had more than enough money to get by
on until I returned from Rio, but I was banking on the hope that they would
have some sort of meal plan for us at Coach Winter’s house. If not, well, I
might just become the first Olympic gymnast to compete on an empty
stomach.
I was overwhelmed, tired, and hungry when I first locked eyes with Erik
standing shirtless on his porch. His greeting was cold, his smile was
nonexistent, and his body language suggested I should crawl back into the
SUV and try again later.
I’d almost been relieved when he’d turned, pulled the screen door open,
and disappeared back inside his house. I didn’t see what some USGA
intern’s mistake had to do with me, but I wouldn’t hold his cold greeting
against him. He probably just needed a cup of coffee. Or five.
“Ma’am,” my driver said, interrupting my thoughts. “Should I take the
bags inside?”
 I waved my hand. “No, no. Just drop them there. I can carry them to—”
To where? I had no clue where I was supposed to go. Would Erik have
us stay inside his house or would he relegate us to the woods surrounding
the property? Going off our first impression, I’d be sleeping on a rock for
the next month.
The driver fidgeted on his feet, as if he didn’t want to leave me with
Erik, but I shot him a flat smile and held out the tip I’d finally settled on. I’d
debated on it for the last thirty minutes of the car ride and had decided on
$5. It wasn’t nearly what he was owed, but enough that it nearly made me
break out in a cold sweat as I handed the cash over to him. He basically had
to pry the bill out of my hand.
“Thanks again for the ride,” I offered with a tight smile.
He dipped his hat in a small salute. “Good luck in Rio. My family and I
will be rooting for you.”
My stomach twisted as he hopped back into his SUV. His tires kicked
up gravel as he drove away and I glanced around the property, less than
convinced that this was a good idea. Had the Association toured Erik’s
property before making their decision to send us here? From what I could
see, it looked like there was only a small cabin tucked into a pocket of
woods. Where will we stay? Where will we train?
The screen door creaked open again and I turned to watch Erik make his
second appearance of the morning, this time wearing a shirt. It didn’t
matter; I’d seen his chest already. It was broad and tan and muscled, and
objectively speaking, most women would have found it very appealing. I
was too busy mourning the loss of my Abe Lincoln to care.
He didn’t say anything as he walked down his porch stairs toward me,
but I took the chance to study him. He was going to be my coach for the
next two months and I wanted to get a feel for what I was up against. The
small headshot I’d seen on my computer back home hadn’t done him
justice. Not at all. He was tall and built, with enough muscle on his frame to
make me feel tiny by comparison. His dark lashes rimmed a pair of bright
blue eyes, and his hair was as dark as his lashes, an inky black, shorter on
the sides but long and unruly on top. He’d gone back in to put a shirt on, but
he hadn’t touched his hair. For some reason that bothered me.
“What did your email say?” he asked, walking past me and picking up
my suitcases off the gravel drive.
I sighed. “That there weren’t many flights available and that I would
arrive early. I sent you—well, I sent Eric with a C—two emails about it.”
He shook his head and wandered off with my suitcases in tow. I had no
choice but to follow him as he rounded the back of the house.
“Oooookay,” I murmured under my breath.
He glanced over his shoulder at me with a hard stare and I stilled.
Behind a computer screen, his blue eyes had been piercing, but here, in real
life, they nearly eviscerated me.
I’d had quite a few gymnastics coaches over the years. Vlad, Boris,
Patrick, Igor—they’d all been on the right side of fifty with thick accents
and thicker mustaches. They were as gruff as they came, but I already had a
suspicion Erik would be the worst of them all.
“I tried to warn you that my flight was early,” I said, trying again.
He ignored me and pointed to the left. I let my gaze follow his finger
until I spotted a small guesthouse tucked into the tree line behind his house.
It was old, with a bright yellow door and a charming rocking chair out front
that looked like it needed a good dusting.
Erik crossed the backyard and dumped my suitcases at the foot of the
porch. By the time I’d caught up to him, he was already turning back for his
house without a second glance in my direction.
 “Aren’t you going to show me around the property?” I asked.
He waved over his shoulder as he continued to walk away. “Molly
knows her way around.”
For some reason, his flippant response was too much to handle. I was
the one who was about to compete in the Olympics. I was the one who had
to train with a new coach. I was the one who’d spent half the money in my
bank account to fly across the country to train with a man who seemed as
pleasant as a porcupine. Instead of turning around and chalking up his bad
attitude to a rough morning, I crossed my arms and shouted out after him.
“THANKS FOR THE WARM GREETING! IT WAS NICE TO MEET
YOU TOO!”
I thought I heard him mumble something under his breath, but he
disappeared around the front porch without a reply just as the door of the
small cottage whipped open behind me.
“BRIE! Finally.”
Molly’s small arms wrapped around me from behind and I smiled. Even
if Erik’s greeting had been cold, I still had Molly. She was another member
of the gymnastics team, a veteran I knew I could depend on to cheer me up.
I turned around and hugged her before stepping away to get a good look at
her. She had bright red hair, freckles dotting her cheeks, and an infectious
smile. She was still wearing her pajamas: a bright pink tank top and
matching shorts.
“Were you just shouting at Coach Winter?” she asked, reaching around
me for one of my suitcases.
“Long story,” I said, glancing over her shoulder. “Are you the only one
here?”
She nodded. “Yeah, you guys weren’t supposed to get here until later.”
 “Yeah, yeah. Believe me, I know that now. Why didn’t he yell at you for
being here early?”
She laughed. “My host family went on vacation, so I had to come here a
few days ago. It wasn’t a big deal since I train at Seattle Flyers anyway.”
Unlike the rest of the team, Molly wasn’t flying in to train with Erik for
the month. Though she was originally from Oklahoma, she’d left home at
the ripe age of 13 and moved in with a host family from Seattle Flyers, all
so she could train with Erik. It wasn’t an uncommon practice for young
girls to leave behind their family and friends to go and train at elite gyms.
Fortunately for me, Austin had more than its fair share of good coaches.
“Erik didn’t chew your head off for needing to arrive early?”
She frowned, confused. “No? Why would he?”
I rolled my eyes. “No reason.” I tried to push aside lingering thoughts of
him. “C’mon, show me the house.”
She led me past the small kitchen and up a wood-paneled staircase. The
upstairs was minimal: three small bedrooms and one small bathroom for all
five of us to share. What a joy morning time would be.
She pointed to the first door on the left. “That’s June’s room.”
I frowned. “What do you mean? She’s not even here yet, how is that her
room?”
Molly shrugged. “She texted me last night to get the layout of the house
and when I told her, she claimed the only single bedroom.”
“Of course she did. What a lovely teammate we have.”
Molly laughed and pushed me farther down the hallway. “C’mon,
you’re bunking with me whether you like it or not.”
I didn’t protest. I liked Molly and she was a valuable asset because
she’d been training with Erik for the last five years. Surely she had some
dirt on him that would be valuable in the coming days.
 She waved me to the second room down the hallway. It was painted a
pleasant shade of light blue and the bunk beds at least looked like they’d
been built in this century. I carried my suitcase into the room and kicked the
door closed after me.
“I claimed top bunk, if that’s okay,” Molly said, turning to glance at me
over her shoulder.
I tossed my suitcase on the bottom bunk and kicked off my shoes.
“Sounds good. Now give me the scoop.”
She smiled. “About what? June? She’s just nervous about the games. I
swear she thinks living with us will distract her or something.”
I rolled my eyes. “Really? How wild does she think five Olympic
gymnasts can get?”
It was a rhetorical question Molly chose to ignore.
Other than Molly, I knew the other three girls from the competition
circuit. There weren’t that many elite gymnasts in the United States, and
even fewer on the fast track to the Olympics. A few years ago I’d started
seeing the rest of the team at competitions around the United States. In
some cases, friendships had developed naturally. In other cases, they…
hadn’t.
“Honestly, I think June is just scared of Lexi,” Molly admitted.
“I think we all should be scared of Lexi.”
She laughed.
Lexi was a free spirit, even by normal standards, and I loved her for it.
“Honestly though, I think after we live together in this shabby cabin for
a month, everyone will be getting along,” I continued, tipping a smile up at
Molly.
“I think that’s wishful th—” Something caught her attention out the
window. She hopped up and pushed the dusty drape to the side. “I knew he
brought a girl back to the house last night.”
I followed her over to the small window and peeked out in time to
watch a pretty brunette in high heels teetering down Erik’s gravel driveway.
As she slid into the passenger seat of the car, she glanced back at his house
with a wistful smile. I couldn’t see Erik, but something told me he wasn’t
out on the porch wishing her a farewell like a gentleman would have done.
My brows arched. “Does he do that a lot?”
Molly shrugged. “I’ve only been here a few nights, but at practice, he
never talks about girlfriends or anything. I always just assumed he was sort
of…”
“What?” I prodded.
“Celibate.”
I laughed.
“I wonder what she looks like,” I said, leaning forward to get a better
look at her before she disappeared into the car.
Molly turned and assessed my profile. “A lot like you, actually.”
I let the drape fall back across the window.
“Yeah, well, I’m amazed he’s able to get women back here at all.”
“Have you seen him?”
I shrugged. “Yeah yeah he looks all right, but that personality ruined it
for me.”
Molly moved back and sat on the bottom bunk. “Did you not have the
best first impression of him? He’s always been really nice to me.”
I scoffed.
“He’s really not so bad. Just wait and see.”
I didn’t believe her.
AFTER MOLLY HELPED me get unpacked and settled into our room,
she took me on a tour of the property. From the gravel drive, Erik’s home
had seemed unassuming, but the more we explored, the more I fell in love.
The property consisted of his main house, our guesthouse, and a small gym
housed in an old airplane hangar a few yards to the right. The property was
surrounded by forest on three sides and everything was overgrown and lush,
green and inviting.
The property lacked a certain order, especially in the yard between the
main house and guesthouse. It looked like it still held the remnants of a
house party: lawn chairs clumped into random groups, a forgotten beach
ball, a grill that looked like it’d seen better days.
“Is that a hot tub?” I asked Molly.
She smiled wide. “Yeah. We’ll have to try it out before we head to Rio.”
“Absolutely.”
After she’d shown me the lay of the land, we headed back to the
guesthouse so I could finish the tour. I hadn’t taken the time to look around
at the first floor my first time through. The living room had an old, worn-in
couch and a few mismatched lamps. The kitchen was even worse: it was
tiny, nothing more than a microwave and a refrigerator.
“How are we supposed to cook in here?” I asked, pulling open a drawer.
Cheap plastic cutlery rattled around inside.
Molly pulled open the refrigerator and waved her arm in front of it like
Vanna White. Inside, there were mountains of healthy prepared meals,
prepackaged and ready to consume. It looked like for the next few weeks
I’d get my fill of chicken and sweet potatoes. Joy.
“But where’s the oven?” I asked, spinning in a circle.
“Oven?” she asked, letting the refrigerator door fall closed.
 I nodded. “I like to bake.”
She laughed. “Well, unless you can work with a hot plate, I think you’re
shit out of luck.”
A screen door slammed in the distance and I glanced out the kitchen
window in time to watch Erik walk down the steps of his back porch. The
sun cut across his features, making him stand out against the green
backdrop even more. His black hair and black shirt seemed out of place
there, as if he didn’t belong in such a pleasant place. He was heading
toward the hangar to work out, a water bottle clutched in his right hand. The
scowl I’d seen an hour earlier was still there, furrowing his dark brows and
flattening his smile into a straight line. He looked lost in thought, maybe
still thinking about the girl who’d just left.
I tilted my head in his direction. “Does he have an oven?”
Molly’s eyes widened. “I’m sure, but I think he prefers his privacy. It’s
been made pretty clear that we aren’t allowed to go into the main house.”
He hadn’t told me that rule. He’d barely uttered a word to me at all.
“I guess you need your privacy if you’ve got the Tinder Train rolling in
every night.”
Molly laughed just as a throat cleared behind us. I spun around to find
June standing at the bottom of the stairs, eyeing us with disdain. She must
have arrived while we were out exploring the property. Her lips were
tugged into a thin line and her brown eyes were narrowed; she looked just
as bitchy as the last time I’d seen her. Her pin-straight black hair was
tugged into a severe bun on the top of her head and her arms were crossed
tightly across her chest.
“I don’t really think it’s appropriate to discuss Coach Winter’s love
life.”
 I shrugged. “If he brings women back here for us to see, it’s sort of fair
game in my opinion.”
She tsked as she strolled into the kitchen and pulled an apple off the
counter. “I just don’t think it’s befitting of members of Team USA to gossip
like schoolgirls.”
June was seriously hard to figure out. In the few times we’d been
around each other at competitions, she’d seemed like a stuck-up asshole
(for lack of a better word) and so far, she wasn’t going out of her way to
change my opinion of her.
“I just wonder how he befitting so many dates into his schedule this
close to competition,” Molly joked, trying to break up the awkwardness
between June and me.
I wasn’t quite ready to throw in the towel though. I didn’t want to live
with a girl I hated for an entire month; we’d drive each other insane. I
shifted angles to try to get her out of her shell a little bit, to show her I
wasn’t the enemy.
“Did you have a good flight?”
She nodded.
“Where did you fly in from again?”
“Montana.”
I made out like that sounded interesting. “Do you like it there?”
“No.”
“Have you trained with Erik before?”
“Coach Winter,” she corrected.
“Right. Coach Winter,” I said with a small smile.
“No, I haven’t, but he’s the best coach in the country now that his father
is on medical leave, and I for one don’t plan on taking my time here for
granted.”
 With that, she bit into her apple and walked out of the kitchen.
“I think that went well,” Molly said once June had trotted upstairs and
slammed her bedroom door closed. A second later, loud classical music
spilled down the stairs.
I laughed. “Despite the fact that I just rolled my eyes so far back into
my head I’ve gone blind, yeah, I think it went well.”
After I regained my sight and Molly stopped laughing, we got to work
heating up a lunch of chicken and asparagus. I was starting to crash from
my early flight, so I rooted around the kitchen for a coffee pot, confused by
the prehistoric model sitting in one of the cabinets. I brushed off the dust
and plugged it in; it took me nearly thirty minutes to figure out how to turn
the damn thing on, and once I had two cups of coffee, they had the
consistency of burnt mud.
“Cheers,” I said, clinking my mug against Molly’s. “Don’t actually
drink it though.”
She sniffed the top of the mug.
“Just inhale deeply and hope you get some caffeine through your nasal
passages.”
“It doesn’t seem so bad.” She tipped back a sip and promptly spit it out
all over the table. Most of it landed on our food (thanks Molly) but a few
ambitious drops landed on my face.
I wiped my eye as she collapsed into a fit of laughter. “That’s the
shittiest thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“I told you not to drink it!”
After cleaning up her mess, I pushed our coffee mugs to the other side
of the table and took a bite of chicken. It tasted like cardboard, but I was too
ravenous to care.
“Tomorrow, we’ll go pick up a better coffee pot,” she said.
 I nodded. “Sounds good. When do you think Lexi and Rosie will get he
—”
I’d barely formed the question when the front door of the guesthouse
whipped open. Luggage flew inside the door, followed by a few duffel bags,
a pillow, a jacket, and then finally, like a tornado, our final two teammates
arrived: Lexi and Rosie. Yin and yang.
Lexi led the way into the house wearing bright blue spandex yoga pants
and an off-the-shoulder tank top that read, “I’m too sexy for my shirt”. Her
black hair was piled up on her head in a messy bun, her bright red lipstick
looked as if she’d just reapplied it, and she was wearing enough rings on
her fingers to cut off circulation. In sharp contrast, Rosie followed after her
with wide eyes and nervous energy. She wore a white polo tucked into
ironed khaki shorts. Not only was she the shortest girl on our team, at
seventeen, she was also the youngest. Even beneath her dark brown skin, I
could make out her flushed cheeks.
“Guys, first off,” Lexi said. “Our coach is fucking hot.”
She dropped her final bag by the door and blew a stray piece of hair
away from her face.
“Second, how far do you think we are from the closest nightclub?”
CHAPTER THREE

Brie

MY CAREER IN gymnastics started in ballet. At the ripe age of three, my

mom enrolled me in my first class. She said it was because I already had an
affinity for dance, though I actually think it was because the ballet studio
had free classes for toddlers on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
For four years, I danced my little heart out, and for four years, I walked
out of my ballet class and passed the gymnasts practicing on the other side
of the building. A glass partition separated me from them, but I’d lean close
and smudge the glass with my nose. Whereas the ballet studio was quiet
and stuffy, tinted in a pale pink hue, everything in the gym was loud and
painted in color—bright leotards, bright mats, bright smiles. I’d watch the
girls tumble across the floor, tipping into back walkovers and back
handsprings. They’d finish and get back in line, giggling with friends, and I
found myself longing to be one of them.
I was seven before I yanked on my mom’s hand and pointed through the
glass.
“I want to do gymnastics.”
She laughed. “But Brie-bear, you’re so good at ballet!”
I shook my head as I watched another girl tumble across the floor.
 “Yeah, but…” I pointed again, hitting the glass with my finger. “I want
to do that.”
It had taken major convincing. My mother had dictated that if this was
truly my decision, I would need to walk into Mrs. Perry’s ballet class all on
my own and announce to everyone that I was quitting. She assumed I
wouldn’t have the nerve, but I called her bluff. Even to my young ears, the
word “quitting” sounded abrasive, which is why I ended up marching up to
the front of the class and announcing my formal retirement from the art of
ballet.
I wished my dance mates au revior, shed my ballet skirt, and took the
mat for my very first gymnastics class. It took five minutes for me to fall in
love with the sport.
By gymnastics standards, I’d started late. At seven, I might as well have
been a ninety-year-old geriatric taking the mat. For reference, Dominique
Moceanu competed in the Olympics when she was fourteen. FOURTEEN.
Some kids are still wearing Velcro shoes at fourteen and she was winning
gold for her country at the Atlanta Summer Games.
I didn’t let my age stop me though; I worked harder than every girl at
my gym, and by the time I rang in my fourteenth birthday, I was competing
at the elite level. An injury kept me out of the 2012 Olympic games in
London, but two years later, I won all-around gold at nationals and then
went on to place first at the World Gymnastics Championships in 2014 and
2015.
I’d proven my skills on the second biggest stage with back-to-back
golds, but the Olympics were a level apart. Winning gold at Worlds put me
in the spotlight within the gymnastics community, but winning gold at the
Olympics would make me a household name. I wanted to be a household
name. I needed the perks that came with being a household name:
sponsorships, endorsements, commercials, photo shoots. My mom and I
would never have to worry about money again.
“Do you think Erik is still coming?” Lexi asked, leaning forward on the
couch to get a better angle on her toes. She’d just finished painting mine
bright red and now she was working on her own.
“Of course he’s coming,” June said from her perch across the room.
She’d put as much distance between herself and the rest of the group as she
could without actually leaving the house. “He said we had a team meeting
today at 2:30 PM, so he will be here.”
“Maybe he’s just running late,” Rosie said, giving him the benefit of the
doubt.
“June, you can scoot closer, we don’t bite,” Lexi said, patting the couch
cushion beside her. The four of us were all sitting hip to hip, squeezed on
the couch like Tetris blocks.
June turned her nose up at us. “I’m fine.”
There was a clear line in the sand—the four of us vs. June—even
though it made no sense. Besides Rosie and Lexi, none of us had trained at
the same gym. We had all seen each other at competitions and had made an
effort to get to know each other during the Olympic trials. June was
wholeheartedly uninterested and mildly annoyed with our presence, as if we
were warts she couldn’t quite rid herself of. She probably viewed us as her
competition and was scared to get too close. Does she think we’ll poison
her cereal or something?
“So what does the room sitch look like upstairs?” Lexi asked.
“I’ve got my own room,” June said, butting in just as Molly opened her
mouth to speak. “It’s just easier that way. I like order and routine.”
“Right-o,” Lexi said, tilting her head toward me. “I’m assuming you
and Molly are bunking together?”
 I nodded. “Which leaves the last room for you and Rosie.”
Rosie smiled. “That’ll be fun, Lex. I’m a really quiet sleeper and I’m
very clean.”
“Fine. I dumped my boyfriend before I left anyway, so it’s not like I’ll
need much privacy.”
“Privacy for what?” Rosie said, genuinely curious.
“Phone sex.”
June nearly gagged on her tongue and Rosie’s cheeks turned dark
scarlet.
I couldn’t help but laugh as Lexi assessed us. “What? Am I supposed to
dance around the subject with you guys? Do I need to give anyone the
talk?”
I laughed and held up my hands to show I was in no need of “the talk”,
but I couldn’t speak for the rest of my teammates.
“So you’re single now?” I asked, trying to change the subject for Rosie
and June’s sake.
“Yup, and just in time for the games. What about you guys? Boyfriends,
girlfriends?”
June and Rosie shook their heads, but Molly did a teeter-totter thing
with her hands. “It’s not serious or anything, but the host family I’ve been
staying with has a son.”
A son?!
Too many questions flooded her at once.
“Is he hot?” I asked.
“How’s the sex?” Lexi chimed in.
“Does he like to read?” Rosie asked.
June sat quiet in the corner like a sack of potatoes.
 Molly sighed dreamily. “I don’t know about the sex part. We haven’t
gotten that far.”
Lexi groaned, but I laughed and nudged Molly, offering up a gentle
smile.
“Who cares?” I said, trying to deflect. I wasn’t trying to virgin shame
anyone, just like I wasn’t judging Lexi for having phone sex. We’d all come
from different backgrounds.
Lexi glanced at me. “You’re not still a virgin are you?”
I shrugged. “No, but it’s been a while since I’ve dated anyone.”
I stared up at the ceiling and avoided eye contact with Lexi. My sex life
was dotted with awkward encounters and short-lived romances. I hadn’t had
much time for dating in the last few years; I found it easier to keep most
guys at arm’s length. It was more comfortable that way; I could focus on
training and didn’t have to worry about messy breakups.
“But you’re so pretty,” Rosie said with a smile.
Lexi nodded. “Yeah, you look like Natalie Portman or something.
You’ve gotta be some guy’s type.”
“Well actually—” Molly began to speak, but I reached over and pinched
her thigh hard enough to make her stop. “Hey! I was just going to agree that
you were pretty.”
I blushed. “Oh.”
“What’d you think she was going to say?” Lexi asked.
“Nothing.”
Molly chuckled. “She thought I was going to mention
Erikwejroweriyertheoirhtioehrt.”
My hand covered her mouth, turning the second half of her sentence
into gibberish. “It’s nothing. Molly thinks I look like this girl Erik—”
“Coach Winter!” June interjected.
 “—slept with last night.”
Lexi’s brow arched. “Innnnnteresting.”
It wasn’t interesting.
“Do you think he’s cute too, Brie?” Rosie asked.
I pretended like my toe nail polish was smudged and bent down to fix it.
“She’s avoiding the question,” Molly said with a laugh.
“He’s our coach. We shouldn’t be discussing whether or not he’s cute,”
June chided.
I ignored her. “Objectively, there’s nothing not to like about him, but
he’s just sort of…” I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Frustrating.” I nodded.
“He’s definitely not my type.”
Lexi nodded. “So then what is your type exactly?”
A knock sounded on the front door of the guesthouse and June hopped
up to answer it.
“Speak of the devil,” Molly said, elbowing me in the side.
A slow-spreading blush crept up my cheeks as June whipped open the
door and Erik walked inside. I avoided glancing up at him as June started to
suck up, thanking him for our wonderful accommodations and for his
generosity. He gave us a hot plate, June. Cool your jets.
“Good afternoon,” he said, addressing the group as he came to stand at
the front of the living room. He was a few feet away from us and I swore I
could smell his body wash. Unless Molly uses mountain fresh scent too.
The team offered up greetings, but I kept my gaze locked on the coffee
table in front of him. Until my blush subsided, I didn’t want to chance
meeting his eyes.
“Have you all settled in?” he asked.
“Yup. Everything is great,” Lexi said with a cheery tone. “Just for kicks
though, in what direction would we find the closest mall?”
 Rosie cut in. “Yes, we’re settling in just fine. This place is so pretty.”
“Let’s say we set out to the north,” Lexi continued. “Would I hit a J.
Crew or the Canadian border first?”
He ignored Lexi. “We just need to go over a few ground rules and then
we’ll do a light workout before we break for the evening.”
Seriously? A workout on our first day? Couldn’t it wait until the
morning? I groaned under my breath and Molly giggled.
“First off, Brie, when I’m talking, you don’t talk.”
My heart dropped as I flipped my gaze up to him. His statement—aimed
at me—finally gave me enough courage to acknowledge him, but the
second his blue gaze hit me, I felt like he’d stabbed me in the chest. He’d
showered since I’d last seen him. His black hair was still damp and the
shadow of facial hair was gone, replaced with smooth tan skin.
His domineering presence suddenly felt suffocating in the small space,
and I slumped back into the couch.
“I wasn’t talking,” I argued with a tone I didn’t quiet recognize.
I’d never talked back to a coach before.
His brow arched. “Excuse me?”
I folded my arms over my chest, protecting myself.
When I didn’t reply, he continued.
“Second, no arguing. I’ve invited you all into my house, so I understand
that you might consider our time here to be informal and relaxed. However,
I am your coach, not your friend, so let me repeat myself: when you’re here
or in the gym and I ask you to do something, I want you to do it the first
time.”
What an asshole.
“Third, no friends at this house. You’re here to train, not to party.”
 I thought of his friend from that morning, the pretty brunette with the
wistful smile. In a matter of seconds, my embarrassment from being singled
out transformed into defiance. My hand was in the air before I realized what
I was doing.
“Brie?” he asked, his tone cool and calm.
“So the no friends rule,” I started, tilting my head to the side. “Does that
mean the woman who left this morning was an assistant coach or
something?”
I thought I registered surprise in Erik’s bright eyes, but he covered it
quickly. He took a step forward and bent low so his eyes were level with
mine. I pretended his hard stare didn’t affect me, nudging my chin an inch
higher. I had no clue what I was doing. Molly elbowed my ribs, trying to
warn me, but it was too late. I wasn’t this girl. I didn’t question authority or
talk back to my coaches. I usually slid into the background, too focused on
my end goal to worry about shit like this. It’d been simple in the past
though; my coaches showed me the same respect I showed them. The
relationships were mutually beneficial, but Erik would be different; I could
already tell.
Molly had suggested I’d gotten a bad first impression, but this was the
third time I’d been around him today and I’d come to realize: this guy
didn’t have a good side. He was an asshole and he was picking a fight with
me in front of the entire team. For some reason, I was his target, and I
wasn’t going to cower in fear. Sure, he owned the place, but I had earned
my spot on the team regardless of our accommodations. I’d show him
respect when he did the same to me. Until then, my white flag would stay
tucked away.
“I’m the coach. You’re the gymnast. Got it?”
I bristled at his tone. “Yes.”
 “Yes…”
I bit down on the inside of my mouth, ignoring the sharp metallic taste
of blood. “Yes sir.”
CHAPTER FOUR

Erik

AT TWENTY-NINE, I was the youngest person to ever be named head

coach of the women’s gymnastics team, and most people assumed I wasn’t
ready for the role. They say everyone loves an underdog, yet at the moment
it seemed like everyone in the world—including my father—was waiting
for me to fail. I wouldn’t let that happen. I was prepared; I’d trained
gymnasts for the last ten years and I knew what it took to win gold.
But even if I closed my ears to the noise coming from outside my team,
I knew the girls weren’t going to go easy on me. Yes, they behaved as
consummate professionals on the world stage, but until then, they were just
like any other group of young girls. To them, I was the new substitute
teacher: young and naive. I had to prove to them I was in charge and worthy
of the same respect my father’s age and legacy commanded. The five of
them had the power to make my life a living hell for the next eight weeks
and if I didn’t start off strong from day one, it’d be an uphill battle the
whole way to Rio.
I cleared my throat, trying to get their attention again. After I’d forced
Brie to call me sir, the mood in the room had shifted. The girls sat with
nervous energy, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Brie sat back against the
couch with narrowed eyes and a hard line where her smile had been a
moment before. I’d pushed too hard, too fast, but of the five of them, Brie
would be the most challenging to coach. I could already sense a storm
brewing within her. She wanted to show me that she was a twenty-year-old
with a mind of her own. In truth, I wasn’t even upset about the email
misunderstanding; it was more the embarrassment of her catching me in a
compromising position, and I hadn’t handled it well.
“The fourth and final rule is that you’ll respect each other and you’ll
respect me.”
Brie’s eyes bored into me.
“Got it?”
“Yes sir,” they answered.
Brie pushed up off the couch. “Is that all?”
“Be ready to work out in twenty minutes. We’ll meet at the hangar.”
Before the second sentence had left my lips, she was brushing past the
couch and heading up the stairs. The other girls stared back and forth
between us, studying my reaction.
“I think she’s really tired,” Molly said with a tight smile. “She had a
super early flight.”
Brie wasn’t tired, she was indignant. I’d dealt with plenty of gymnasts
like her in my years of coaching. In my experience, there were two ways to
get a gymnast’s respect: earn it or demand it. Brie’s temperament proved
she would resent me if I continued to force it, so I made a mental note to
ease up on her during the workout.
Twenty minutes later, the five of them strolled in wearing tank tops and
yoga pants. Brie was the last one to walk in, eyeing the place tentatively
and keeping her distance from the other girls. I’d embarrassed her earlier in
front of them and she was still brooding.
I stood back and watched her as the girls started stretching on the mat.
She was thin, delicate. Other gymnasts wore their muscle like a badge of
honor, but Brie didn’t have that type of body. She looked more like a doll,
soft and feminine. Maybe that’s why her fire continued to surprise me. I
kept assuming she would fall into place, take her spot in line, keep her head
down and work, but as I showed the girls around the facility, pointing out
the ropes and weight sets, she wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“You’ll do five circuits,” I said, walking them through the obstacle
course-style workout I’d set up. “You’ll start by going up and down the
rope twice without using your legs or feet to help. After that you’ll move to
the high bar and then to the floor.”
I’d done the circuit earlier, testing it out. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but
there was no sense in babying them. The next month wouldn’t be easy and
the sooner they realized that, the better.
Brie was the first one to line up for the circuit and I almost worried she
wouldn’t be able to handle it, but the second she took the rope, I saw a
glimpse of the strength her body kept hidden away. Those slender arms
were stronger than they looked. She didn’t flinch going up and down the
rope and I watched, waiting to nail her for using her feet to assist her, but
she had her legs straight out in a V the entire way up and down.
“Nice work, Brie,” I said once her feet hit the mat.
She brushed past me with her chin raised just enough to set my olive
branch aflame. Her silence told me I hadn’t earned her respect.
Not yet.
CHAPTER FIVE

Brie

GYMNASTICS, LIKE POLO, tends to be a sport for the rich. My mom’s

job as a social worker hardly brought home enough money to cover food,
clothes, and rent. With no way to afford the thousands of dollars a month
for gym dues and training, I knew she must have negotiated a special rate
for me with the owners.
She always kept a smile on her face and tried hard to give me the same
rose-colored memories as other kids—but I wasn’t deaf to her hushed
phone calls with collection agencies, nor blind to the stress lines that
appeared at the end of every month as the bills started to roll in.
I remembered being on a first-name basis with Chuck, the greasy,
balding EZ Pawn owner that always remembered my favorite Dum Dum
flavor was blue raspberry. At the beginning of every month, I’d watch my
mom pass her late mother’s diamond pendant necklace over the counter,
and I would giggle as the man looked at it closely with funny lighted
eyeglasses. It had seemed like a game, part of our monthly routine, until the
December our car broke down on the side of the highway a few miles from
our house. After towing it to a nearby mechanic and hearing the diagnosis,
we took a cold bus to see Chuck for the last time. Out of habit, he took the
necklace out of a drawer and placed it on the counter when he saw us
coming. But, rather than passing over the bank envelope like normal, my
mom shook her head and put her old wedding ring down beside it. After a
few whispered words, we left without either, and the bus ride home was one
of the first times I’d seen my mom cry.
I used to wonder sadly where the jewelry that should have been my
inheritance ended up, but as I grew up I would hear stories about people
greedily fighting over the remnants of their parents’ estate, and I realized I
was actually lucky. When the day would come that my mother died and
there were no cherished heirlooms or family riches to pass down, I’d know
it was because she’d already given me everything of herself that she had to
give.
My father had left before I was born, never part of our dynamic duo,
and truthfully, he was hardly missed through my childhood. My mom and I
were a team. She arranged her days, her life, around me. She went into
work at 5:00 AM every day so she could finish up in time to pick me up
from school and quiz me about vocabulary words on the way to the gym.
Five days a week, she sat with the other parents, watching me practice for
hours on end with a forgotten paperback sitting on her lap. Every skill I
mastered, from a back walkover to a double layout, my mom was there to
see it. I’d stick it, smile, and glance up to see her flash me a thumbs up.
While she was committed to my gymnastics, she never pressured me to
stay in it for the long haul. Nearly every week, she’d ask if I was still
enjoying myself, if my heart was still in it. I knew she was scared of
becoming a stage mom, of pushing me to do something I hated. I always
reassured her that I loved it, and it was the truth. Gymnastics was in my
heart. Competing gave me a rush of endorphins like nothing had before.
Yet every time she told me how proud she was, my chest tightened with
sadness. Deep down, I knew that there had to be gold at the end to repay the
debt of her selflessness. She had been over the moon that I’d made the
Olympic team, and she would be beside herself if I brought home a bronze
or silver medal, but those things weren’t enough. For the person who’d
sacrificed everything she had so I could follow my dreams, I craved gold.

LATER THAT NIGHT, after I’d showered and fallen onto my bottom
bunk, exhausted, Molly started chatting my ear off about Host Boy. He had
a name (Duncan), but I liked to refer to him as Host Boy.
“We aren’t dating dating. I think his parents would freak out if they
thought we liked each other, y’know? I mean, I’m only staying with them
so I can train at Flyers. I shouldn’t even be paying attention to their son!”
“Yeah. Mmhmm,” I said, filling in with responses where I thought they
should go. “No way!”
It was interesting information, but she’d repeated it on loop for the last
hour. Duncan was a year older than her, attending his freshman year of
college while living at home, and oh so dreamy. He was funny and great
and “Did I already tell you about his dimples?” If I had to hear about him
for another second, I’d suffocate myself with my pillow.
“I think we should go out,” I declared, sweeping my feet off the side of
the bed and standing up.
Molly leaned over the top bunk, alarmed. She was wearing one of those
Hannibal Lector moisturizing face masks. “Go out?” she asked, adjusting
the mask. “But Coach Winter said we have to be at the gym really early
tomorrow.”
I rolled my eyes. “We’re about to be that dude’s slaves for the next eight
weeks. I think we deserve one night of fun. Besides, we really need to get to
know each other better.”
She nodded. “It could be fun and if we go somewhere close, we could
be back early enough to get a good night’s sleep.”
“That’s the spirit!” I clapped. “Now take off that mask and find your
skimpiest skirt.”
“But I like Duncan. I don’t want to—”
I held up my hand to stop her. “By all means, put on your nun’s frock to
save yourself for Dimpled Duncan. The skirt is for me.”
“Oh.” She smiled. “I have just the thing.”
I headed out into the hallway and pounded on Lexi and Rosie’s door.
Rosie whipped it open with wide eyes and a grateful smile. I glanced over
her shoulder to see Lexi sitting cross-legged on the floor with her laptop
resting on the carpet in front of her.
“Oh! Look, here’s another plug-in model I can show you, Rosie.”
“What’s going on in here?” I asked, glancing over Rosie’s flushed
cheeks.
Lexi finally looked up. “Oh, I was just showing Rosie a few of my
favorite starter vibes on Amazon. Can you believe she’s never tried one?”
Rosie looked like she wanted to melt into the carpet.
“I wasn’t the one who brought it up!” she exclaimed, trying to clear up
the situation. “Lexi said I was missing out if I’d never had…” She lowered
her voice to a whisper. “…an orgasm before.”
“And I fully stand by that statement,” Lexi added.
“And before I could stop her she’d pulled up all of these vibrating…
rabbits, and uh, wands. I didn’t even know Amazon sold stuff like that,” she
whispered, the volume of her voice fading until her lips were moving
inaudibly.
 I had to fight not to laugh. Lexi and Rosie rooming together was a
recipe for disaster. Rosie was a virginal lamb compared to Lexi, who
probably had more sexual experience than all of us combined. If Rosie
survived the month, I’d be surprised.
“Well, put away the research because we’re going out.”
“Finally someone is speaking my language!” Lexi hopped up off the
ground and tore off her t-shirt. She already had a black dress on underneath.
“What the—”
She shrugged. “I was going to sneak out after everyone went to sleep.
This is a much better option though.”
Rosie clung onto the door. “I’m happy to go, but do you guys think it’s a
good idea?”
Lexi shook her head. “Rosie, Rosie, Rosie. You beautiful little starfish.
Get your ass in some tight jeans and buck up. With any luck tonight, you
might not need a vibrator after all.”
I laughed. “You guys have ten minutes to get ready.”
“What about June?” Rosie asked.
Oh right. June. I’d nearly forgotten about her. It’d be rude to leave her
out, so I spun on my heel and walked down to the end of the hall. I pressed
my ear to her door, waiting for the telltale sound of classical music. There
was no music, but I could hear her on the phone.
“Yeah, we had a short workout today, nothing too intense.”
Silence.
“Oh believe me, Mom, they’re not any competition.”
She laughed and I braced myself against the door, listening.
“Brie’s probably the closest to my level, but she’s never been to the
Olympics before. I, for one, won’t be surprised when she chokes.”
 I waited a few more minutes, trying to calm my temper. When she hung
up, I tapped on the door lightly and waited for it to swing open.
“June?”
Nothing.
I tapped on her door again. “June?”
When she pulled the door open, she looked bored to find me standing
on the other side.
“What do you want?”
Don’t invite her, my inner conscious warned. She’ll bring the mood
down.
“We were thinking of heading into town to hang out and get to know
each other a little better.”
She nodded and stepped back to close her door. “I’m not in the mood.”
I reached my hand out to stop her from shutting the door in my face.
“Are you sure?”
Her dark eyes assessed me coolly and when her gaze landed back on my
face, I knew she thought I wasn’t even worth the time. “I’m sure.”

LEXI SWORE SHE’D done her research and apparently there was a hip
club downtown that didn’t card.
“It’ll be easy,” she told us after we’d piled into an Uber. “Just walk up
and be confident. They won’t turn away four pretty girls on a Thursday.”
She was right; they didn’t turn us away, but they did slap big black Xs
on the backs of our hands to keep us from drinking.
“Here,” she said, pulling a small bottle of nail polish remover out of her
purse. Who carries that around with them? “Run to the bathroom and scrub
off the Xs. I’ll go get us some drinks.”
“Why didn’t she get Xs on her hands?” Rosie asked once the three of us
were safely in the bathroom, wiping away at the permanent marker as hard
as we could. I’d locked the door to ensure no one would come in and catch
us in the act.
“She has her cousin’s fake ID,” I said.
I poured the nail polish remover on the back of Molly and Rosie’s hands
and they scrubbed away under the sink. In the end, we were left with faded
black marks. In the dim lighting of the bar, it’d be good enough.
Confident now that we weren’t sporting underage Xs, we strolled out of
the bathroom and finally took a good look at the place. The bar wasn’t
trendy by any means. The tables were old and mismatched. The lighting
was hazy and dim. The music playing over the speakers wasn’t anything I
vaguely recognized and most of the people inside looked old enough to be
my grandfather.
As we found a booth in the corner of the bar, I slid onto the cheap vinyl
seat and scanned the room. Something was definitely off and the moment it
sank in, I decided I was going to murder Lexi.
“Is this a biker bar?”
“Aw hell! Look who the cat dragged in!” a burly man hollered over the
crowd as he pounded his friend on the back. The bartender—a muscled
eighty-year-old with a faded leather vest—slid the pair a couple of
longnecks and then reached up to turn the TV station to a football game.
Most of the tables were empty, and the ones that were occupied looked
like they needed to be avoided at all costs. Yes, sometimes bikers are pretty
attractive, but this was the bar where those bikers went to retire. If the Sons
of Anarchy were based in California, the Grandpas of Anarchy must’ve
headed north to Seattle. Their once sharp and intimidating tattoos had
stretched and faded over their flabby arms. They wore baggy jeans and had
receding hairlines, and a slight stench of body odor tainted the entire place.
Any plan to meet a cute guy was pretty much off the table.
“Here!” Lexi said as she rushed back from the bar with four drinks in
hand. “They looked at me weird when I ordered so many, so drink up
quick.”
I grabbed mine and took a long swallow. The beer tasted like lighter
fluid, but I drank it regardless.
Rosie sipped hers and gagged.
Lexi clapped her on the back. “It’s shit, I know, but just drink up and get
over it. It’s time to party.”
“You told us this place was hip,” I said, tossing her an amused smile.
“Yeah well, I guess there are a lot of gassy bikers on Yelp. This place
had five stars. ”
Five minutes later, we’d all finished our first drinks and were starting to
relax—well, everyone except Rosie. She was still sipping her beer as if it
were poison.
“Let’s play ‘Never Have I Ever’!” Lexi said, shimmying her shoulders
against the back of the booth.
“How do you play that?” Molly asked.
“Everyone holds up ten fingers and when it’s your turn, you say
something you haven’t done. If someone has done that thing, they have to
put a finger down.”
“Sounds confusing,” Rosie said with a hiccup.
Lexi groaned. “No. It’s easy. Fingers up and we’ll get started.”
“I’ll go first,” I said with a smile. “Never have I ever had a one-night
stand.”
No one but Lexi put down a finger.
 Molly was next. “Never have I ever gone to third base.”
Rosie leaned forward and lowered her voice. “What’s third again?”
Lexi rolled her eyes. “You haven’t done it.”
She nodded. “Right. Oh, it’s my turn. Um, never have I ever…been
kissed.”
“ROSIE.”
“What?” she asked. “I’ve been busy training! It’s not like boys have
been beating down my door to get to me.”
Lexi covered her eyes with her hands. “That’s just wrong.”
I shrugged and came to Rosie’s defense. “It’s hard to find time for
boys.”
“You’ve never had a boyfriend?” Molly asked.
“I have,” I said, thinking over the awkward dates and even-more-
awkward sex I’d had in the past.
“When was the last one? A while ago?” she asked.
I thought of Noah. Easy, nice Noah.
“Well there was this one guy,” I said. Everyone leaned closer. “His
name was Noah and we met when we were both competing at Worlds last
year.”
“Oh! I remember him. He’s cute,” Molly said.
“Yeah. We exchanged numbers and tried to hang out a few times, but he
was boring with a capital B. I mean, seriously, on our first date he went in
for a side hug at the end.”
Even Rosie’s eyes widened at that. “Are you two still seeing each
other?”
“God no. I mean, he’ll be in Rio. He’s competing with the men’s
gymnastics team, but I don’t plan on hanging out with him or anything.”
 Lexi reached for Rosie’s beer and took a long sip. “What a waste of
potential.”
She was right. When I’d first met Noah, I assumed he would be the guy
to show me how good sex could be. I wasn’t a virgin; I didn’t want to take
it slow with him. We’d gone out on five dates, we texted all day, and I gave
him plenty of hints. I mean, there’s only so many times you can throw
yourself at a guy before it becomes embarrassing. I explained this to the
group and Lexi looked personally offended.
“Maybe Noah didn’t want to have sex with me because I’m a sea urchin
and everyone can see it but me.”
Lexi stood up on her seat, shaking the table in the process. “YOU
LOOK LIKE NATALIE PORTMAN!”
I reached out to force her back into her seat, but she wiggled out of my
grasp.
“Just because one boring ass boy didn’t want to have sex with you
doesn’t mean you aren’t pretty.” To prove her point, she turned to a table a
few yards away from us. “You just need a man. Hey! You guys!”
Four burly bikers glanced over to us and I sank lower in my seat. “Do
you think my friend is pretty?”
I groaned and buried my face in my hands. This was the most
mortifying experience of my life.
“Aw hell yeah! A little skinnier’n I’m used to!” said a toothless biker.
“I’d do her!” another added.
I waved my hand. “Okay, much appreciated. That’s all.”
“See?” Lexi said.
I wanted to slither under the table and live there forever. “I need another
drink.”
Lexi clapped. “I’ll get it!”
 A few hours later, as we sipped our third (or fourth) beer, I knew we’d
made a major mistake. My head was already swimming. I couldn’t see
straight and my stomach hurt.
“I can’t believe I’m living with a bunch of virgins,” Lexi said, shaking
her head. “It’s like a nunnery or something.”
“Hey!” I protested. “I’ve done it a few times.”
Even if they weren’t great…
“And it’s called a convent,” Rosie corrected with a hiccup. “Not a
nunnery.”
Lexi groaned. “Only a nun would know that.”
“Let’s play another game,” Molly said. “What about truth or dare?”
Rosie punched her fist in the air. “YES. I’m so good at that game.”
Lexi reached for her hand and brought it back by her side. “You nearly
just took my nose off with your fist.”
Rosie giggled, drunk. “SORRY!”
“Brie, you’re up first,” Molly said, turning to face me. Her pale cheeks
were flushed from the beer and her freckles were even more prominent than
usual. She really was pretty.
“Okay,” I agreed. “Go for it.”
“Truth or dare?” she asked.
“Truth.”
“Wait!” Lexi said, holding out her hands to push Rosie and Molly back.
“Let’s decide on a question together.”
“That’s cheating!” I argued as the three of them put their heads together
on the other side of the booth. For a few minutes, all I could hear was
whispers and giggles. I crossed my arms and tried to avoid eye contact with
the bikers at the table beside ours.
 “Yes!” Lexi said, leaning back from the huddle. “That’s perfect. Ask
that!”
“It’s sort of personal, guys,” Rosie said, eyeing me tentatively.
“Yeah, listen to Rosie,” I said. “Have some decorum.”
Molly shook her head and plopped her butt back on the seat beside me.
“Okay, truth: what do you think of Coach Winter?”
My heart dropped.
The three of them sat staring at me with wide eyes. Lexi’s smile was
sinister, knowing. I glanced away.
Why were they asking me this? I’d only met him that day.
“Never mind, I choose dare.”
“ANSWER!” they all shouted at once.
“As a coach?” I shrugged. “He seems fine.”
I reached for the beer in front of me and tried to tap out a few last drops
into my mouth. It was completely empty.
Lexi leaned across the table, trying to meet my eye. “You know what
she’s asking.”
I straightened my back and turned away, hating the accusatory tone she
was using.
“He couldn’t take his eyes off you this afternoon. I swear he forgot the
rest of us were even there,” Molly said, elbowing me in the side.
I shook my head, trying to force down the blush creeping up my neck.
“That’s not true.”
Even Rosie agreed. “He really was staring at you during the meeting.”
I rolled my eyes, tired of the subject. They were imagining things.
“He was staring at me because I was being bitchy. That’s it.”
“But do you think he’s cute?” Molly asked.
 They weren’t going to drop the subject until I answered, but I didn’t
want to answer. I rolled my beer bottle between my palms, keeping my
focus on the label instead of meeting their eyes. There was a careful line I
didn’t want to cross with Erik, a line I’d never even been tempted to cross
with a coach before. I could compartmentalize him into one of two groups:
man or coach. As a man, he was incredibly good-looking, tall, and
muscular, with a face that made my body burn. But as my coach, he was
nothing. Not cute, not ugly. Not mine.
I dropped the bottle and shook my head. “I plead the fifth.”
“BOO!” Lexi said.
“Fine, if you don’t want to answer the question then you have to do a
dare,” Molly said, exchanging an evil glance with Lexi.
My stomach clenched. “What is it?”
“You have to kiss him,” Lexi said with an evil smirk. “Y’know, since
you aren’t sure if you think he’s cute or not, you should test the waters.”
Molly bounced up and down on her seat, clapping her hands at the
possibility that I’d actually say yes to the dare.
I shook my head adamantly. “Hell no.”
They were on crack if they thought that was an option.
“Seriously!?” Molly groaned. “Come on.”
I shook my head again, staring out at the TV above the bar with a flat
smile. I knew they could sense I was reaching my limit. Why were they
pushing this on me? I hardly knew the guy, and I definitely didn’t want to
kiss him. Punch, maybe, especially after the meeting earlier.
“Okay, fine,” Molly relented. “Then I think you should have to wear
something embarrassing to practice tomorrow.”
I inhaled a deep breath, relieved. Finally, they were off the Erik subject.
“Like what? I didn’t pack any costumes.”
 Lexi leaned forward with a wide grin. “I packed a cheetah print leotard
that has a cat tail on the butt.”
Of course she did.
Rosie lost it in a fit of giggles, but I didn’t even hesitate before holding
out my hand for her to shake.
“Bring it on.”
A cheetah print leotard was light, easy, fun—nothing compared to my
first dare. I knew they were just being playful, trying to get a reaction out of
me, but I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to think of Erik outside of practice. I
didn’t want to discuss him here, giggling over how cute he was. I didn’t
want everyone to go to practice the next day and whisper about the fact that
I was harboring a crush for our coach. I wasn’t. He’d been nothing but an
asshole all day and the last thing I wanted to think about was whether or not
I might or might not find him attractive.
I didn’t.
Like he’d said earlier that day: he was the coach, I was the gymnast.
End of story.
CHAPTER SIX

Brie

I HAD A dream about Erik that night. A sexy dream. I’d gone to sleep a bit
drunk and a little annoyed by how the truth or dare game had gone. With
these facts in place, my brain had (mistakenly) assumed I wanted to dream
about Erik. Specifically, it thought I should dream about being a secret
agent on a mission to seduce and question him. Makes total sense,
considering I’m 5’2” with absolutely no interrogation skills. Regardless of
its unrealistic nature, the dream progressed until I got to the good part. Erik
was sitting in a leather chair in a corner of a hazily lit bedroom. His left foot
was resting on his right knee and he was watching me, mesmerized by me
as I danced for him. I was supposed to strip or something, and in between
articles of clothing I was supposed to be gleaning state secrets for the FBI.
(Seriously, I need to stop watching reruns of Alias.) I rolled my hips and
spun around slowly, letting my silk shift dress fall to the ground. I think I
was getting pretty close to completing the mission—shall we say—when
the dream was cut off.
“Wake up, little cheetah!” Lexi said, barging into our room.
I bolted up off my pillow like I’d just been shot. “Eri… What’s going
on?”
Something soft sling-shotted across the room and hit me square in the
chest.
 Lexi laughed. “It’s time to put your money where your mouth is.”
I blinked my eyes open and saw the leotard sitting limp on my chest,
sparkly and oh-so-cheetah printed. Molly leaned over the edge of the top
bunk and wiped the sleep out of her eyes. “Oh wow. It really does have a
tail.”
I turned it over and felt the long furry thing between my fingers.
“I can’t wear this,” I said, shaking my head.
Lexi tapped the doorframe. “Fine, then swap spit with Erik. Your
choice.”
She left before I could argue, but I still shouted at her down the hall.
“That’s not how the game works!”
“Sorry! Can’t hear you!”
It really wasn’t fair. Lexi’s dare had been to dance on the table. Molly
had to hit on a biker bro, and Rosie picked truth and was too shy to answer
any of the questions we shot at her. Yet somehow, for me the game had
extended into the next day. I should have fought harder against the leotard,
but I’d been relieved at the time, happy to get off the subject of Erik.
I pushed out of bed, much to the dismay of my head.
“I feel like shit.”
“I feel like shit that has come to life, eaten some other shit, then shat out
more shit,” Molly answered, rubbing her temples before crawling off the
top bunk and hitting the ground with a heavy thud.
I groaned. “That’s disgusting.”
“It’s the truth.”
I put on a sports bra and then pulled on the leotard over it. The thing
was tight, like skintight, and on top of that, it looked like a costume a
showgirl would wear. I tried to put running shorts on over it, but the tail got
in the way. I forced them on anyway.
 “This is the worst thing I’ve ever put on my body,” I said.
Molly laughed from the doorway of the bathroom. “I like it. The tail is
extra cute, and it might help with balance.”
“GUYS!” Rosie shouted up the stairs. “Come on! We have to be at the
gym in fifteen minutes!”
I grabbed a spare leo and ran down the stairs after Molly. For the
amount of beers I’d had the night before, I didn’t feel as bad as I’d thought
I would. I mean, yes, there was definitely a category 5 hurricane wreaking
havoc on my brain, but with a little food and water, I knew I’d be fine.
Molly grabbed protein bars for us and then June directed us outside.
“We don’t have any time to spare,” she said, tapping her foot.
“We’re coming!” Molly said, running after me.
“What the hell are you wearing?” June asked as I passed.
Lexi laughed. “It’s her leotard, June.”
I grinned. “Pretty cute, right?”
“No.” She rolled her eyes and then spun on her heel to lead us all out of
the house.
Lexi leaned in close. “Wow, guess you won’t be the only cat in the gym
today.”
I smiled back at her before trailing outside after the others. There was
an old forest green Jeep parked in front of the guesthouse and a note on the
front windshield outlined the rules. It was ours to use while we were in
Seattle—well, ours to use if we wanted to go three specific places: Seattle
Flyers, the grocery store, or the emergency room. Anywhere else was off
limits.
“I’ll drive!” Molly said, whipping around the front of the Jeep and
pulling open the driver’s side door.
 Molly was quite possibly the worst driver in the world. To be fair, the
car was a manual and she hadn’t used a clutch in years.
“I’ll get the hang of it,” she promised as the Jeep stalled for the fifth
time in the middle of the road.
“We’ll never get there,” June groaned, letting her forehead fall against
the window in the back seat.
“Just have a little faith,” Rosie said from the center seat, leaning
forward to pat Molly’s shoulder. “I think you’re doing a great job.”
“You really are,” I added, purposely leaving out the fact that Google
Maps had estimated the drive would take fifteen minutes and we’d already
been driving for thirty.
“He’s going to kill us!” June said. “Ugh, just let me out and I’ll walk
there myself.”
“JUNE! Just shut up,” Lexi snapped from the opposite end of the back
seat. She was massaging her head, likely battling the same hangover
hurricane as me.
By the time we pulled up to the deserted parking lot of Seattle Flyers,
we were all annoyed, carsick, and in a rush to get inside. Molly pulled in
next to an old Ford pickup and I’d barely hopped out and pulled the front
seat forward when June pushed past me to get out. The seat collided with
my shoulder with the force of her exit, but she didn’t care. She ran ahead so
the four of us were left to walk in her wake.
“What a joy it will be to live with her for four more weeks,” Lexi
groaned.
“That’s not even counting Rio,” Molly pointed out.
I frowned. “I keep trying to give her the benefit of the doubt…y’know,
like maybe she’s really nervous about competing…but it’s getting harder to
see reason with her.”
 Lexi shook her head. “I agree. We’re all about to be in the Olympics.
We all feel the pressure. It doesn’t mean you’re allowed to shit all over your
teammates.”
“Let’s just go easy on her, guys,” Rosie said, holding the gym door open
for us. “I’m sure she’ll warm up to us soon.”
We walked in and dropped our gear next to a wall of cubbies near the
entrance of the gym. Come 4:00 PM, the place would be packed with
gymnasts arriving to work out after school. Until then, the place was ours.
“It looks really nice,” Rosie said, stepping up beside me.
I nodded. “It’s nicer than where I trained in Austin.”
The space was divided into two areas, one for men’s gymnastics and
one for women’s. The women’s side of the place looked like it could fill up
multiple football fields. There were two regulation size floors, a dozen
beams lined up in two rows of six, three vaults, and too many uneven bars
to count. Everything was organized and clean. The equipment was all
relatively new and bright. The walls were painted a crisp white and dozens
of championship banners hung from the ceiling. Clearly, Erik had made a
name for himself in the gymnastics world.
“…and I tried to stop them, but they went out last night anyway.”
June’s voice jerked me out of my scan of the gym. I turned and walked
around a corner of the foyer to find her talking to Erik near the gym’s
office.
“Obviously I knew it was against the rules, which is why I didn’t go,”
she continued. “So I don’t think I should be included in any punishment
they receive.”
He was trying to exit through the office door, but she’d caged him in so
she could snitch on us.
“Oh hell no,” Lexi said, breezing past me. “That little rat.”
 I reached out my arm to stop her. “It’s not worth it.”
Besides, Erik wasn’t paying attention to June, he was watching us—
specifically, me.
His stubble was back, covering his chiseled jaw and framing his high
cheekbones. His hair was tousled and his strong frame stretched his gray t-
shirt in a way that made my knees weak. I’d never had a gymnastics coach
as intimidating as Erik and the longer his eyes stayed pinned on me, the
more I wanted to cut and run.
“So, you all had a little fun last night,” he said.
When we didn’t try to deny his claim, he continued. “Whose idea was
it?”
My stomach clenched.
Rosie and Molly glanced to me. I could feel their gazes boring into the
side of my face, but I kept my attention on Erik.
Lexi crossed her arms and stepped closer to me. “We’re a team, coach.
It was everyone’s idea.”
June shook her head. “She’s lying!”
Erik pushed past June and walked closer to where the four of us stood.
“Someone speak up.”
Rosie fidgeted on her feet. If anyone was going to break, it was her.
His dark brow arched. “No one?”
I swallowed.
He let out a long sigh.
“I hope everyone packed their running shoes.”
CHAPTER SEVEN

Erik

I’D SEEN THEM sneak out the night before—the Uber had picked them
up on the gravel drive for Christ’s sake—but I hadn’t stopped them. That
method would never stick. They knew the rules and they knew they were
breaking them. If I’d walked out and forced them back into the house, they
would have resented me. If I’d locked the doors, they’d have found another
way out. The only punishment I could give them was a hard workout;
they’d eventually learn that going out and partying the night before practice
wasn’t worth the consequences.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t anticipated that June would be so quick to rat
out her teammates. Sneaking out and breaking rules was one problem, but a
dividing line in the group was much worse. June wasn’t doing herself any
favors by isolating herself. The next few weeks would be a challenge for
everyone and they needed to stick together.
“Wait, why am I being punished?” June cried, crossing her arms.
I ignored her question and glanced back to the other girls, standing with
their shoulders aligned. Most of them had their eyes narrowed on June, but
Brie was watching me with hatred burning in her gaze. I’d only been
around her for two days and I’d already gathered that her eyes were the
source of her power. Large, chocolate brown, and currently narrowed in my
direction—she had a way of looking so fucking disinterested, bored even,
and it was all in her eyes. I couldn’t decide if they were beautiful or
terrifying.
“There’s a three-mile loop around the gym. We’ll start out front and run
as a team,” I said, emphasizing the last part for June.
Before I could direct the five of them back toward the front of the gym,
Brie stepped forward and shook her head. “It was my idea.”
I paused and turned back to her, hating the way my gaze sought her out
every time. There were five of them and yet I wanted to give Brie my full
attention. It wasn’t like she was trying to shy away from it. Since the
moment she’d arrived, she’d been outspoken and abrasive. Even then, she
was wearing some kind of silly costume instead of a leotard. I nearly called
her out for it, but she spoke up first.
“Don’t make everyone run,” she continued. “It was my idea to go out.”
I shook my head. “The time for honesty has passed. We’ll all run, and
since you’ve so clearly dressed for it, let’s make it two loops.”
She pinched her eyes closed but didn’t argue.
Everyone grabbed their shoes, laced them up, and headed outside. It
was a chilly morning, but we’d warm up on the run.
“You’re running too?” Brie asked, coming to stand beside me. I wanted
to push her away.
I nodded and stared out over the parking lot. “We’re a team. It’s only
fair.”
Besides, the trail wound partly through the woods and I didn’t feel like
having to explain to grieving parents why I’d let five young women run
alone through the woods. It’d be easier if I just went with them.
“I don’t think I should have to run,” June said, propping her hands on
her hips.
 June had clearly come from a gym where she was the best of the best.
She walked around like her shit didn’t stink, and she needed a dose of
humility.
“June, you’re running. Next time don’t rat out your teammates.”
The first mile was easy enough, and by mile two I was ready to pick up
the pace. I glanced behind me to take in the dynamic of the group. Brie had
been leading through the first mile, and though I’d never turned around, I’d
been aware of her breathing in time with me. Molly, Lexi, and Rosie ran
behind her in a staggered line, and June brought up the rear, still moping.
“Mind if take the lead?” Brie asked, picking up the pace to run
alongside me.
Her cheeks were flushed and a few strands of brown hair had fallen out
of her ponytail. She was smiling and breathing heavy. I’d expected her to
groan about having to run, but she looked happy to be out on the trail.
Apparently I’d have to think up a new punishment for her next time.
“Go for it. Just follow the dirt.”
She nodded and set off running a few yards ahead of the group. At first,
I focused on the trail, trying to think of what was coming around each
corner in case I needed to warn her, but the trail had been cleared recently,
so eventually, I let my gaze linger on her.
The light streaming through the tree tops highlighted her body. Similar
to the elegance of a bird taking flight, Brie was most beautiful when her
body was in motion, free. Her legs were long and toned, made for events
like the balance beam and floor, and yet she was just as confident out on the
dusty trail. Her back—all but exposed thanks to the silly costume—was tan,
smooth, and more alluring than any back I’d seen before.
I kept my distance, running between her and the rest of the team, though
if I’d been allowed, I think I would have ventured a little closer just to see
what it felt like to run beside her.
What are you thinking?
She’s your gymnast.
I shook the thoughts from my head and turned my attention back to the
trail. For the remainder of the run, I focused on the dirt beneath my feet and
nothing else.

AS THE GIRLS stretched and cooled off from the run, I checked my
phone in my office. I had a few voicemails from my father, but I ignored
them and called my grandfather back instead.
“Hallå Erik,” he said when the call connected. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve been busy,” I said, reclining in the chair so I had a view of the
team through the large glass window. “How have you been?”
“Good. Good. I’ve been working in my garden and reading.”
I loved hearing him speak English. His Swedish accent made the words
thick and comforting.
“Did you get that book I sent you?”
“It just arrived yesterday. A bit beat up on the corners—was that your
country’s lousy postmen or mine?”
“Probably a little of both.” I smiled. “Let me know what you think of it
when you finish.”
“I probably won’t have time to read it any time soon. I’m a very busy
man, Erik.”
I laughed. He’d been retired for the last twenty years and spent most of
his time reading or working out in his garden. “I know. I know. Have you
talked to the woman who moved in across the street from you yet?”
 “Again, I’m a very busy man.” He chuckled. “Besides, I’m still working
up the courage. I can’t just throw myself on the poor woman. I need to think
of a good excuse.”
“Ask her if you can borrow a cup of sugar.”
“What? Is that an American thing?”
I smiled. “Maybe.”
“I could ask to borrow an egg. I think she has a chicken coop in her
backyard.”
“Are you stalking her, Farfar?”
“Of course not. I see it when I take Ludde on his evening walk.”
I hoped to still be walking my dog around my neighborhood at eighty-
four.
“How are things going in Seattle?” he asked. “Have the gymnasts
arrived?”
“Yesterday.”
“And?”
I sighed. “And it’s going about as easy as I expected. They’re five elite
gymnasts with egos the size of Mount Everest.”
He chuckled. “I’ll never know how your father did it for so long.”
I gripped the phone tighter. He usually waited a little longer into our
phone calls before bringing up my father.
“Don’t bother bringing him up. I won’t call him back.”
“He’s worried about you. I’m worried about you. His health isn’t
looking good and the longer you go without talking, the worse it will be.”
“His health isn’t my concern.”
He sighed heavily. “Erik, I raised you better than this. I’m afraid it
might be too late for your father, but it’s not too late for you. If you become
coldhearted at twenty-nine, where will you be at sixty?”
 The girls caught my attention through the office window and I knew I
should get out there and continue practice.
“I have to go, Farfar.”
He didn’t bother trying to argue; he knew it was a hopeless endeavor.
“Good luck with the team. I’ll call tomorrow.”
I stood and walked around my desk. “Tomorrow,” I confirmed.
After I hung up the phone, I grabbed a leotard from the gym store and
walked out of my office.
Coaching gymnastics can be difficult because it’s both a team sport and
an individual sport. These girls were set to fly to Rio to compete under their
nation’s flag, but they were ultimately competing for themselves. Naturally,
it would create some friction considering only two of them would have a
chance to compete in the individual all-around competition, and only one
would walk away with gold.
As I walked toward their group stretching on the floor, I tried to get a
feel for their dynamic. June was stretching a few yards away from the other
girls, separating herself as much as she could. Brie walked over to hand her
an extra water bottle and June took it with a quiet “thanks”. Her kindness
surprised me; out of anyone, she should have been annoyed with June for
ratting her out. For all she knew, I wouldn’t have ever known they’d gone
out if June hadn’t told me.
“Brie,” I called, drawing her attention away from June. “Come here.”
She turned and walked over, eyes narrowed at the material scrunched up
in my hand.
“What’s that?” she asked.
I held it out for her to take. “Go change.”
She blushed. “It was a dare—”
“I don’t care. It’s distracting and you should know better.”
 Her bright eyes slid up to mine. “Distracting for who?”
She was testing me.
“Team USA.”
She glanced away with a slight smile playing on her lips. “Should I
come to practice with a paper bag over my head tomorrow?”
“I don’t really think you’re in a position to make jokes right now.”
“It’s a leotard with a tail on it. Big deal.” She turned to walk away and
then thought better of it. “And about last night? We went out to get to know
each other better and we were back home and in bed by midnight.”
I shook my head and leaned forward. “While you’re staying in my
house, you’ll follow my rules. No going out. No partying.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Anything else, Coach?”
There it was again, the fire. I could never decide if I wanted to fan the
flame or stamp it out. Instead, I brushed past her. “Go change.”
She laughed under her breath. “Right away sir.”
CHAPTER EIGHT

Brie

“WELL THAT WAS a disaster,” I said, reclining on the couch. I’d

showered and put on my comfiest pair of pajamas. Practice had kicked my
ass and I knew I’d be paying the price tomorrow. Or in an hour.
“I think Erik liked your tail a little too much,” Molly said, handing me
an extra ice pack and sliding down to sit at my side.
I dropped the pack onto my shoulder and closed my eyes, ignoring her
statement.
“Agreed,” Lexi said, dropping onto the couch on the other side of me.
My first instinct was to argue with them, but I’d learned it wasn’t worth
the effort. As far as I could tell, Erik was the same as he’d been the day
before: distant and chilly. During practice, I’d finish a routine and glance
over at him. I’d try to glean a sliver of emotion from his face, but he always
wore the same unreadable expression. It wasn’t filled with kindness or
hatred; no, the chill in his piercing blue eyes was somewhere in between,
too confusing to pick apart. He’d blink, shake his head, and spout out a
random recommendation. “Your feet were apart in that final pass…You
nearly went out of bounds there at the end…Keep your legs straighter in the
first double.”
I knew my routines weren’t perfect, but coaches usually mentioned at
least one good thing I’d done before harping on everything I needed to fix.
After thirteen years of gymnastics, I understood that I hungered for other
people’s approval. I loved impressing my coaches. I blossomed under their
praise, and after one day of working with Erik, I knew I’d have to adjust my
standards. He wasn’t going to sugarcoat criticism. There’d be no thumbs up
or smiles during practice, just cold, critical indifference.
I shivered at the thought.
“Ugh, I wish this stupid house had an oven,” I said, peeking my eyes
open just to confirm one hadn’t magically appeared in the kitchen while we
were away. “I really want to bake something.”
Molly laughed. “What is it with you and baking?”
I smiled and shrugged. “It’s my favorite thing to do. When I was
younger, sometimes my mom couldn’t pick me up from practice right away
because she was stuck at work. At first I’d wander over to wait at a
bookstore near the gym. There was a bakery next door, and when I got
bored or hungry I would inevitably end up drooling over the pastries in the
display case.”
Molly smiled. “Sounds like my kind of place.”
I nodded. “It was heaven. Anyway, the owner took pity on me. In the
beginning, she’d slide me the day-old baked goods, and then once it became
clear I wasn’t going away, she let me go behind the counter and help her.”
“Is that where you learned to bake?” Lexi asked.
I smiled. “She taught me everything I know.”
“So that’s what you would be doing if you weren’t competing in the
Olympics?” Molly asked, laughing. “Baking?”
I stared up at the ceiling and closed my eyes, picturing myself behind
the counter of the bakery. It was almost purpose-built for inducing
nostalgia; the haze of flour hanging in the air might as well have been pixie
dust, enchanting me with the everlasting aroma of fresh baked goodness.
The radiant warmth from the enormous ovens enveloped my tired muscles,
soothing them better than any heating pad could. After the technical
demands of the gym, I reveled in the simplicity of following tried and true
recipes.
“I guess,” I answered honestly. “I haven’t thought about it, really. It’d
be fun—”
“GUYS!” Rosie shouted.
She was walking into the living room from the kitchen, but something
had caught her attention out the window. “LOOK.”
All three of us jumped off the couch and ran to the window.
“Holy…”
Erik was walking back to his house from the hangar after a workout. He
was shirtless, sweaty, and ripped. I’d seen his body the first day I arrived
and I knew he worked out a lot—I’d nearly passed out trying to keep up
with him during our morning run—but the sight of him still stole my breath.
“I want to lick this window right now,” Lexi said, pushing her face
closer.
She wasn’t kidding. The glass was fogged over in front of her lips.
“He looks like Wolverine,” Molly said.
“Or Superman,” Rosie added.
“We’re gonna need a cleanup on aisle three,” Lexi said.
I waved my hand in front of the window to get them to stop. “Gross,
Lex, we get it.”
“But look at that back.”
I am. It was broad and tan and glistening with sweat. He pulled his tank
off his shoulder and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow. When he
reached the steps to his back porch, he took them two at a time.
“He’s so…” Rosie pushed her palm to the window. “Perfect.”
 When he reached the top step, he glanced toward the guesthouse and all
at once, we ducked and barrel-rolled away from the window.
“Shit!”
“Oh god! Do you think he saw us staring at him?” Molly said, covering
her eyes.
I crawled back toward the window and pushed myself up on my knees
just enough to peek over the windowsill. Erik was still staring back at the
guesthouse, but his attention wasn’t on the first floor. He was focused on
the second story, on my bedroom window. He propped his hands on his hips
and narrowed his eyes. Tingles spread through my body as I continued to
spy on him. He looked nearly angelic, encased in the light from the setting
sun. His tan skin glowed and the muscles on his back rippled when he
shook his head and turned for the door, whipping the screen door open with
a touch too much force. I fought the urge to run out and stop him, to
exchange every remaining dollar in my bank account to know what he’d
just been thinking, if his thoughts had possibly centered on me.
“Brie! Did he see us?”
I sighed and slumped down to the floor. “No. We’re safe.”

THE NEXT DAY, before practice, I carried my pre-wrap and tape over to
the vault and hopped up to sit on the edge. My right leg dangled off the side
and I bent my left leg, bringing my foot close enough so I could twist the
pre-wrap around my ankle. I’d sprained it a few years back and it rarely
bothered me these days, but I liked to take extra precautions this close to a
big competition.
 My earbuds were in, my pre-workout playlist blaring at nearly full
volume. After a few days in the house with the team, I needed a few
minutes of peace and quiet, just me and my music. I hit play on the next
song and then nearly jumped out of my skin as a large hand hit my lower
back.
“Here, let me do it,” Erik said.
My body’s reaction to him was swift and all consuming. Tingles spread
through my fingers, my stomach plummeted, and my breath came short.
I pulled the earbuds out of my ears and glanced up in time to watch him
circle the back of the vault and come to stand in front of me. He was
wearing a black t-shirt stretched tight over his broad chest and shoulders.
Thanks to our first encounter and the reminder I’d gotten the day before, I
knew exactly what he was hiding beneath the thin cotton, and though I
hated to admit it, I’d spent another night dreaming of that chest.
He held his hand out for the pre-wrap, assuming I’d just give in to his
demand.
“I’ve got it, I’m pretty good at it,” I insisted, clutching the roll.
He smirked and worked the roll out of my hand. “I’m better.”
I shook my head and laughed. His confidence—no, arrogance—really
knew no bounds.
“Or so you think.”
I saw his brow arch with amusement just before he stepped closer to the
vault. His height made it so his hips were level with mine and with my knee
bent, he was nearly standing between my legs. I inhaled a shaky breath. I
should have scooted farther back against the vault, put a little distance
between us, but I wasn’t going to be the first to retreat.
He didn’t ask before he took my ankle in his palm. His hand was
massive and I knew if he closed his fist, his fingers would touch around my
ankle. He unwound the pre-wrap I’d just taken my time securing in place
and tossed it aside to start fresh. He ran his finger along the back of my
Achilles, forcing me to flex my foot to ensure the wrap was in the right
spot.
“I usually like to—”
His eyes sliced up to me, warning me to stop while I was ahead. I
sighed and leaned back on the vault, letting him do as he pleased.
“Right. Just keep doing what you’re doing, then.”
He chuckled, smooth and low. “Was planning on it.”
I shook my head. “You know, if you weren’t my coach, I’d say you
were kind of an asshole.”
He paused and glanced up from beneath his dark lashes. “But since I am
your coach…”
His blue eyes seared into me and my stomach dipped. From a distance,
his eyes looked like a simple, solid blue, but up close I could see that wasn’t
the case; there was a dark blue ring around the iris, darkening the cerulean
blue to something more intriguing. His eyes were so gravitational, I had to
resist the urge to bend closer and get an ever better look at them.
Instead, I turned away. “I’ll just think it then.”
He laughed and tossed the pre-wrap aside. I handed him my role of
athletic tape and his fingers brushed mine. The proximity was unsettling.
I’d been this close to dozens of coaches over the years and I’ve never
thought anything of it. Yet sitting there, letting Erik wrap my ankle felt
charged and intimate, and the more I thought about it, the worse it became.
My cheeks flushed as his hand cradled my calf. He wound the tape around
and around and I prayed he would finish soon.
“Well if it helps you train, you can think whatever you’d like,” he
countered. “I only care about results.”
 I nodded, unsure of my next move.
“What were you listening to?” he asked, as if sensing my awkwardness.
“Oh,” I said, reaching for my forgotten MP3 player. “A little bit of
everything. It’s my pre-workout playlist.”
“A little bit of everything, huh? What was playing before I got here?”
I pulled up the playlist and hit play on the first song. He angled his ear
to me and I reached forward to slip the earbud in for him. For a few
seconds, I sat and watched him listening to the song, hoping he’d like it.
A slow-spreading smile overtook lips. “The Lumineers.”
I grinned. “Bingo.”
He handed me back the earbud. “I saw them at ACL a few years back.”
“Really? I wish I could have been there.”
He smiled. “It was a good show.”
I nodded in agreement. “Seattle to Austin is pretty far to travel for good
music though.”
He shrugged and tossed the tape aside, finished. “I was down visiting
my mom.”
I nodded. Of course. I’d forgotten he had a connection to the city.
He stepped back and assessed my ankle. I took a deep breath, aware for
the first time that the air had been spiked with his body wash; when he’d
stepped away, he’d taken the scent with him.
“Come to me from now on when you want it wrapped. It’s too close to
Rio to risk fucking it up.”
I liked the way he said that word: no apologies, no remorse.
I hopped off the vault and tested out the tape. It felt ten times better than
when I did it myself, but I would never admit that to him.
“Not bad,” I smiled.
He hid his smirk as he turned and walked away.
 I joined the other girls at the bars. They were ahead of me, standing
around the chalk bucket and fixing their grips—well, everyone but June.
She was on the other side of the mat, chalking her grips at a separate
bucket.
“How’s the ankle?” Lexi asked with a knowing smile.
I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”
“You know, I had to wrap my ankle this morning as well and Coach
Winter didn’t bother helping me.”
I kept my focus on my grips. “You should ask him to help next time,
maybe he thinks you’re better at it than I am.”
Molly snorted. “You’re delusional.”
She and Rosie walked off to take the bars first and I hung back with
Lexi. She nudged my shoulder and tilted her head to where Erik was
working with June at another set of bars. He held her arms above her head
and swept them down, showing her what form to take her for dismount.
“You know he used to compete.”
I nodded. “Most coaches were gymnasts at one point.”
She shook her head. “He didn’t just compete, he made it all the way to
the Olympics and quit just after trials.”
“Really?” I watched him step back from the mat and wave June onto the
bars. He was focused on her, his eyes narrowed, his coaching face in place.
“Was he injured or something?”
She shrugged. “No one knows for sure. He never did an interview about
it or anything. He’s pretty much stayed out of the spotlight ever since.”
Weird.
“After he quit, he disappeared for a while and then popped up in Seattle
to open this gym. He was only nineteen at the time. Crazy, right?”
 I nodded, mesmerized by the missing parts of Lexi’s story. Why would
he quit right before the Olympics? How could a nineteen-year-old afford to
start his own business?
June dismounted from the high bar, stuck her landing, and squealed.
Erik clapped. “Great, June. Did you feel how fast that last twist was? It
needs be like that every time.”
June nodded gleefully before turning to us. Her expression changed
quickly, turning supercilious. She sauntered off the mat and walked right up
to me, clapping her grips so chalk particles spiraled through the air, nearly
choking me.
“You’re up, Brie.”

I CALLED MY mom later that night when Molly and the other girls were
downstairs finishing up dinner. She’d been trying to get ahold of me since
I’d arrived, but I’d been busy, not to mention a part of me wanted to put
distance between my life in Seattle and my life back home. I could almost
feel normal here, light, free from the pressures mounting in Austin.
“I checked your bank account today.”
I cursed under my breath, annoyed with myself for giving her access to
it in the first place.
“Oh?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant about it.
“You promised me you had enough money to get through until Rio.”
I could feel my throat closing up. I hadn’t thought about the balance in
two days, but I knew it was still as abysmal as when I’d left it. I’d counted
the drinks at the bar the night before, tallying up what it had cost Lexi to
pay for them. She didn’t ask us to reimburse her, but I’d been nervous the
whole night that she would.
“And I do,” I replied, pulling confidence out of thin air.
My mom sighed, and the weight of it nearly broke my heart in two.
“Mom, I swear. I still have some cash on me and besides, everything
here is pretty much paid for.”
The cash was a lie, but the rest wasn’t.
“They’ve got food and everything for you?”
I smiled, because for once I wasn’t lying. “Yes. Tons of healthy stuff
that tastes like high-protein cardboard, and they aren’t charging me for rent,
obviously. The airfare to Rio has already been covered, so don’t worry. I
don’t need much money while I’m here, I swear.”
This time when she spoke again, I could sense a lightness in her tone. I
figured she was relieved to know I wouldn’t be asking for any money.
“And you know what?” I continued. “When I get back from Rio, we’re
going to celebrate on me,” I said, smiling at the image of my mother and me
dressed up at a fancy restaurant. We never ate out while I was growing up. I
hadn’t even been to a real restaurant until I went with a friend’s family
when I was thirteen. I’d been embarrassed to admit that fact at the time, so I
sat in silence, marveling at how the price of just one meal would buy us
groceries for a week. I’d feigned a lack of appetite and ordered a small
salad that I was embarrassed to learn only came as a side to an entree. I
shook the memory from my head and turned to look out the window.
“I don’t want you worrying about any of that while you’re there, Brie.
Just focus on gymnastics. I’ve been picking up a lot of extra hours while
you’ve been gone.”
I ground my teeth together. My mom deserved more than this life. She
deserved more than bland food and long, thankless hours. She was the most
selfless person I knew and it wasn’t fair that life had dealt her such a shitty
hand.
The USOC rewards $25,000, $15,000, and $10,000 for each gold,
silver, and bronze medal earned at the Olympics—hardly life-changing
money for most professional athletes, but any one of those sums would
make an immediate impact on my life, let alone more than one. Plus, if I
was smart about it, I could easily spin my success into sponsorships and
endorsement deals. I had no limits. If they wanted to slap my photo onto
cereal boxes? Perfect. Leotards? Makes sense. Tampons? Sure, I’d go with
the flow. (Ha.) I would shill for whatever I had to to turn our lives around,
but first I had to win. First, I had to become a household name worth
mentioning.
“When I get back from Rio, things will be different, Mom. I promise.”
CHAPTER NINE

Brie

THE NEXT MORNING, I woke up before my alarm. I blinked my eyes

open and glanced back at the small window, disappointed to see the moon
through the translucent curtain. A quick glance down at my phone
confirmed my suspicions. It was only a little after 5:00 AM. I needed to lie
back down, force my eyes closed, and go back to sleep. I’d crashed early
the night before, exhausted after a hard day of workouts and the phone call
with my mom. Still, I’d regret it if I didn’t try for another few hours of
sleep.
Molly was snoring gently above me. I strained to hear any other sounds
in the house, but it was silent. We weren’t due at the gym for another three
hours.
I could go on a morning run, but I was too sore. Instead, I lay in bed and
shot off a few text messages to my mom, letting her know I’d meant what
I’d said the night before and further assuring her that practice was running
smoothly and I was having fun. I attached a few photos I’d taken of the
property and the house. I knew she’d beg me for more details, but it was
enough to sustain her until I got another chance to call her.
After that, I tried to roll over and fall back asleep, but it was hopeless.
I’d already had eight hours and I was antsy to get up and move around.
 “Molly,” I whispered. “Psst. Molly.”
If possible, she started snoring even louder.
I texted Lexi.

Brie: Awake?

When I didn’t get a reply, I pushed out of bed, resigned to spending the
next three hours alone. I brushed my teeth and loosely braided my hair
before padding down the stairs in search of a distraction. I made coffee and
sipped it slowly, staring out the window at the quiet morning. It was nice,
really, trees and grass and a baby bunny hopping in the shrubs. Cool, I’m
already bored.
I turned and eyed the baking supplies I’d purchased the day before
when we picked up a new coffee pot. Flour, sugar, baking soda, and
vegetable oil sat in a plastic bag, untouched. It’d pained me to pay for the
supplies at checkout, but I knew I’d go crazy if I couldn’t bake for an entire
month. Molly had laughed when I’d carried the bag out of the grocery store.
“What are you going to do with all that? We don’t have an oven.”
“I’ll figure it out,” I replied.
And I would figure it out. I had three hours before practice and I wanted
to spend it baking.
Without a solid plan, I reached for the overly ripe bananas on the
counter and stuffed them into the bag of baking supplies. I pulled my coffee
mug off the counter, slipped on flip-flops, and walked out of the
guesthouse.
“Holy sh—.”
The morning chill hit me like I was walking into a deep freezer. I kept
forgetting I wasn’t in the middle of Texas, where during the summer, it was
a solid 95 degrees even in the mornings. I picked up the pace and leapt up
the stairs to Erik’s house, careful not to spill my coffee.
Molly had hinted that his house was off limits the other day, but during
the team meeting, he’d never told us to stay out. I mean, sure, it was
implied, but I pushed my face against the glass window and spotted the
exact appliance I needed: an oven.
I angled around to get a better view of the space. The living room was
dark and the only light in the kitchen was coming from outside. I lingered
there for a few seconds, shivering in my tank top.
Erik was nowhere to be found. He was likely a normal person, still
asleep in a warm bed. I walked back around and tried the door off the
kitchen. I told myself if it was locked then I’d leave. I wouldn’t break into
the guy’s house just to bake some banana bread. To my delight, the door
opened without a hitch, and warm air wrapped around me like a hug.
I walked in quietly and shut the door, cringing when the hinges
squeaked. I paused, listening. The house was silent. Phew. I set the bag of
cooking supplies on the counter and walked toward the staircase off to the
side of the kitchen. I peeked around the corner and stared up, trying to spot
Erik’s bedroom door. I couldn’t see anything beyond the second floor
landing, and it felt wrong to walk up. Breaking into his kitchen was one
thing, but walking into his bedroom while he was asleep was straight-up
stalker status.
I decided I would be extra quiet, bake as much as I could, as quickly as
I could, and then get the hell out of there before he woke up. The beauty of
guerilla baking was that if the aroma did wake him up and I was caught, at
least I had breakfast to serve as a readymade bribe to secure amnesty. I
smiled as I unloaded the bag of groceries onto the counter. I lined
everything up in a perfect row, and then started quietly rifling around the
drawers and cabinets for measuring cups and mixing bowls. I knew if I
organized it the right way, I could make banana bread, blueberry muffins,
and a batch of homemade granola before Erik woke up.
Yes. Solid plan. In T-minus 60 minutes, I’d have warm banana bread to
share with my team. Even crotchety June couldn’t turn that down.
CHAPTER TEN

Erik

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“Fuck,” a feminine voice shouted. “Turn off. Turn off!”
BEEP. BEEP. BEERHRHHpppppppppppp…
I sat up in bed and wiped sleep from my eyes, turning to my alarm
clock. It wasn’t due to go off for another thirty minutes, which meant the
beeping had come from somewhere else.
A door slapped shut and then I heard a metallic clang from the kitchen.
I frowned. Had someone broken into my house to…use my oven?
I whipped the blankets off my legs and pushed out of bed. As soon as I
pulled open my bedroom door, the scent of banana bread hit me like a
wave. Shit. I hadn’t had homemade bread in years. My mother used to make
it every now and then, but it was usually half burned. Baking wasn’t really
in her wheelhouse.
I padded down the stairs, confused and now, suddenly starving, but I
paused when my foot hit the bottom stair. Brie was standing on tiptoes on
my kitchen counter with her back to me, jabbing at my smoke detector with
a broomstick. She was barefoot with red pajama pants hanging low on her
hips and a loose gray tank top exposing an inch or two of her midriff.
 Just beyond her, I caught sight of the mess she’d managed to create in
my kitchen. Flour was everywhere, coating the counter and the floor. There
were streaks of it on her arms and back. How did she manage to get it on
her back?
After silencing the beeping device, she dropped to the ground gracefully
and resumed her work with a heavy sigh. She couldn’t see me from my
perch near the stairs, so I stood, watching her as she scraped the edge of the
bread pan. She turned it over and dumped the fresh loaf onto a plate, and
my stomach grumbled at the sight. She spun around and shrieked when she
spotted me standing at the bottom of the stairs. The pan was suddenly loose
in the air and then a second later, it crashed down onto her big toe.
“Shit,” she said, bending low to hold her toe. “You scared me!”
I cringed and stepped closer, bending low to see the damage.
“Don’t touch it!” she demanded, jerking her foot away from me. She
wouldn’t let me get close, holding her arm out to stop me and brushing
flour onto me in the process.
I laughed and shook my head. “It’s fine. If it were broken you wouldn’t
be standing right now.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Well it landed right on the nail!”
I was sure it hurt like hell, but she’d be okay.
I turned and my kitchen—or what used to be my kitchen—pushed back
to the front of my thoughts. It looked like a bomb had gone off inside my
house. “Care to tell me why you’re in my house without my permission?”
She puffed out a breath and stood up, propping her hands on her hips as
if she was the one in charge. Funny.
“Isn’t it obvious?” she said, waving to the baking supplies behind her.
I wiped my finger across the counter and came away with flour.
“Yeah, I’ve somehow deduced the what, but I’d like to know the why.”
 She turned to me, leaning her hip against the counter. “The guesthouse
doesn’t have an oven, and a girl can’t live on dry chicken and broccoli
alone.”
“So you decided to let yourself into my house and use my oven?”
She held up one hand to stifle my anger and reached forward with the
other to break off a piece of banana bread.
“Here’s your why,” she said, holding the morsel out to me. I watched
the steam curl off the top as I pulled it out of her hand and slipped it into my
mouth.
I resisted an audible groan. Fuck. “It’s all right,” I lied as I chewed the
delicious bread.
She frowned. “Yeah right. I would be willing to bet my life this is the
best banana bread you’ve ever had.”
I arched a brow as she got back to work stirring ingredients in a mixing
bowl. It looked like by the end of her baking session, we’d have enough
bread to host a community-wide bake sale.
“Let me try some more,” I said, pointing to the banana bread.
She smiled. “Only if I’m allowed to keep using your oven.”
I stared between her and the bread. On one hand, I really liked my
privacy. That’s why I’d put the team in the guesthouse in the first place. On
the other hand, I really fucking loved banana bread. I shrugged and reached
behind me for a plate in the cupboard. “Whatever. Just make sure to clean
up after.”
She grinned and turned to the refrigerator to grab a carton of milk.
“Want some?”
When she turned back to hand me the carton, I noticed two things at
once. First, Brie wasn’t wearing a bra. I hadn’t noticed at first because her
tank top was loose and Brie was petite, but then she shifted and I caught the
outline of her breast beneath the loose material. Suddenly, I was fully aware
of the fact that Brie was a beautiful woman, standing bra-less in my kitchen.
Instead of dwelling on that fact, I had to force myself to focus on the second
thing that caught my attention: she had a little tattoo running horizontally
across her ribcage. I caught the edge of it and leaned forward to capture her
arm to hold it up so I could see it clearer.
“What’s that? Ink?” I asked.
She glanced down to where I was looking. Thin black letters barely
peeked out of the armhole of her tank top.
She smirked. “Yeah. It’s a tattoo.”
She was mocking me.
“I can see that. Aren’t you a little young for a tattoo?”
She narrowed her eyes, annoyed. “I’m twenty.”
“What does it say?” I asked, ignoring her glare.
She reached down to move the loose material aside and I struggled to
resist the urge to skim my knuckle across her skin. It looked so soft there,
creamy white, not nearly as tan as her arms and legs. The scrolling tattoo
started an inch away from the bottom of her breast and stretched
horizontally toward her back. It was so subtle and small, I would have
missed it had I not been so close.
“Unbreakable,” I read.
She nodded.
“Does it have a meaning or did you just like the movie?”
She laughed and shook her head. “It’s a reminder to myself.”
“Huh, I like it,” I said, dropping her arm so I could pour myself a glass
of milk and try to compartmentalize Brie in my mind. In the gym, it was
easy. There was a buffer between us. There were other people around us,
other people to focus on and coach. There in my kitchen, as I took a seat
across the island and watched her bake, I had to keep reminding myself she
was there to use my oven, nothing more.
She stuck her finger in to taste the batter in the mixing bowl and smiled.
I found myself smiling with her before realizing what I was doing. I wiped
my mouth and took another bite of banana bread.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Blueberry muffins.”
My brows arched with interest.
She glanced up and the morning light caught her eyes, brightening the
dark brown to an alluring golden hue. She smiled. “Don’t worry. You can
eat these too.”
She finished stirring the batter and bent down to root through the
cupboard beside the stove, most likely looking for a muffin pan. I was about
to tell her to stop looking—I didn’t have one—when she leaned forward
and I caught a glimpse down the front of her tank top. I could see the full
curve of her perky breasts, the same creamy skin I’d wanted to touch a
moment before. She shifted lower and I nearly caught sight of her nipples.
Another inch forward and fuck.
“Brie,” I said, voice low.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Her head whipped up and a few more strands of brown hair fell out of
her braid. I was about to tell her to go home and put a bra on, but I didn’t
want to embarrass her or admit I’d been looking. Christ. The whole
situation was wrong. It’d been wrong from the very start. I should have
spoken up on day one, should have kicked her out the second I walked
downstairs, but instead she was in my kitchen, encroaching on my space
and pushing me to the brink of self-control.
“What?” she asked, standing back up. “Is it not good?”
 Seriously? Was she seriously asking me about fucking banana bread?
Either she was clueless or more innocent than I could have imagined. I
shook my head and pushed away from the island. I needed a long run and a
night out on the town. I needed a good reminder of what a woman my own
age felt like. I didn’t want Brie—she wasn’t even an option. I just wanted to
get laid.
“Just have this mess cleaned up before practice,” I said, taking my plate
of banana bread and carrying it up the stairs.
“You’re welcome by the way!” she called out after me.
She’d broken into my house, woken me up before my alarm, made a
mess of my kitchen, and now she was demanding a fucking thank you?
It was hard for me to believe she was oblivious to the effect brought
about by her body wrapped in that loose tank top. If she wasn’t oblivious—
if she knew what she was doing—she was lucky I didn’t call her bluff, push
her down onto the dirty counter, and rip that loose material that separated
her breasts from my lips. She was probably used to testing her maturity and
newfound confidence around hesitant boys closer to her age, but the lesson
to be learned was that unlike boys who are intimidated by feminine
boldness, men like me are inflamed by it.
I took a deep breath, shook my head, and erased the notion from my
mind. Brie was only twenty, and I knew the young gymnast lifestyle didn’t
leave much time for her to learn manipulation games like that. More than
likely, she wasn’t just oblivious to the effect she had on men.
She had no fucking clue.
CHAPTER ELEVEN

Brie

BRINGING ARMFULS OF baked goods back to the guesthouse

guaranteed I was officially the MVP of my gymnastics team. Everyone
jumped at me like rabid dogs when I pushed through the front door. I even
caught an elusive smile on June’s lips when she bit into a warm muffin on
her way upstairs, which almost made up for her lack of direct gratitude.
I hadn’t fully thought through my plan when I broke into Erik’s house
that morning, and at first he’d seemed less than enthusiastic to see me in his
kitchen, but it’d gone better than I expected. He didn’t kick me out right
away. He actually tried to have a conversation with me, asked me about my
tattoo, and touched my arm as if he didn’t completely despise me. Sure, he
could have stayed a little longer before walking away and demanding I
clean up the mess, but it’s not like I expected him to become my friend
overnight.
I didn’t even dwell on his exit; I focused on what it’d felt like when
he’d bent low to inspect my tattoo. His breath had hit my bare skin and I’d
shivered, though I don’t think he noticed. I’d glanced down to make sure he
couldn’t see my nipples hardening beneath my tank top, and fortunately, the
material was loose enough to hide the evidence of what his proximity did to
me. It was easier that way, easier to push the sensation aside and chalk it up
to the fact that I hadn’t had sex in nearly a year.
 All in all, the morning had gone well in my mind. I’d had the chance to
bake and after dropping off the baked goods on the kitchen table and
changing for practice, I realized I felt calmer than I had in days. I’d made
dozens of delicious, perfectly shaped muffins and suddenly, I felt like I had
control over my life again. Just as I suspected—carbs were magic.
We headed to the gym and beat Erik there by a few minutes. By the time
he joined us, we were warming up for our workout. I tried to catch his eye,
to continue our conversation from his kitchen, but he wouldn’t look at me.
He stood off to the side of the mat and sipped from a thermos. I walked
over, trying to continue the forward momentum we’d started in his kitchen.
“Did you change your opinion after finishing your banana bread?” I
asked, hopeful. “Was it the best you’ve ever had?”
He pushed off the wall and brushed past me.
“Time to get to work.”
My smile fell as Lexi shot me a confused glare. Did he just ignore me in
front of everyone?
Yes.
Yes he had, and he continued to ignore me through the remainder of
practice. It made absolutely no sense. What had crawled up his butt since
he’d left the kitchen that morning? When he needed to speak to me, he
spoke to the group. “One more routine.” “One more pass.” “Everyone needs
to keep their form tighter on their dismounts.”
“Everyone or just Brie?” Molly whispered under her breath.
I shot her a smile as I rechecked my grips.
“Who’s up?” Erik asked, clapping to get our attention.
“Brie,” Lexi volunteered.
He nodded and took a step back. “Let’s go.”
 It was as close to a direct order as I’d get from him. I clapped excess
chalk off my grips and walked up to take the bars, trying to catch his eyes.
He wasn’t watching me. His attention was on the high bar. How can he
coach me if he can’t look at me?
I shook my head and jumped to the lower bar to start my routine. My
hands hit the wooden bar, skimming across the surface as I transitioned my
kip, split my legs, and tightened them together over my head in a
handstand. I rotated around and around, feeling the strength in my arms. My
first release move was simple, transitioning from low bar to high bar, but
midway through my routine, I had a release on the high bar that required a
spot. I half expected Erik to ignore me, but he stepped up onto the mat just
before I finished my giant. I released the bar, finished a full twist, and
reached back for the bar. I could feel him under me and when my hands
made contact with the high bar again, I sighed with relief. I didn’t want him
to have to catch me if I fell.
After that, my routine was nothing but smooth sailing. I dismounted,
twisting for a double front with a half turn, and took a baby step on the
landing. It was hardly a deduction, but I knew Erik wouldn’t let it slide. My
gaze shifted to him. He nodded, no smile present on his stupidly handsome
face. “Now without the step.”
I rolled my eyes and brushed past him. If that’s all he was going to
critique then I was wasting my time. I loosened my grips and walked off the
mat. If I’d competed that routine in the Olympics, I would be walking away
with gold and he knew it.
THROUGH THE REST of practice, Erik did his best to avoid me, so I
followed his lead and did my best to ignore him as well. I was content to
work on my skills, relaxing into a rhythm I hadn’t found since arriving in
Seattle. By the time the lower level gymnasts started to trickle into Seattle
Flyers, the rest of my team was ready to go home. Practice was officially
over and we were all sweaty and tired, but I wasn’t quite ready to pack it in
for the day. I was working on my standing full on beam and I hadn’t landed
enough to satisfy me.
“We’re going to head back to the house,” Molly said, heading over to
where I was resting near my beam.
I nodded. “Would you mind coming back for me later? I just want to
stay for a little while longer.”
She told me to call when I was ready to be picked up and then I went
back to practicing on my own. Another few hours passed. By the time I was
confident in landing the trick, the sun had already set; I hadn’t realized how
long I’d been working out alone. I just needed to stick one more and then
I’d call Molly. One more and I’d feel good.
I knew better than anyone that gymnastics was about repetition. I didn’t
compete a skill until I’d stuck it a million times in practice. If I could land it
when I was bone tired, covered in sweat, and ready to collapse, I could land
it in any circumstance. Solid practice and repetition was the only way to
feel confident when a thousand pairs of eyes were focused on you, and the
Olympics wouldn’t just be thousands. I’d have to compete this standing full
in front of millions.
My coach back in Texas had lent me his copy of Malcolm Gladwell’s
Outliers after a particularly frustrating practice. After reading about the
relentless intensity of Mozart sweating at the piano bench, the Beatles
grinding in Hamburg, and Bill Gates programming at Lakeside, most people
take away the notion that one must spend 10,000 hours practicing
something before greatness can be achieved. My coach commended me for
taking it a step further: it doesn’t matter how many hours you put into your
craft if you’re staying in your comfort zone. Gymnastics is an evolving
sport. Skills that earned gold medals in the 90s would get you laughed off
the competition circuit today. I had to keep pushing myself further, defying
the odds by competing skills that had seemed all but impossible only a few
years earlier.
I had to continue to push myself if I wanted to be the best, which is why
I was still at the gym long after my teammates had gone.
I pushed up onto the beam and took my position in the center. My left
foot was positioned a few inches in front of my right. My toes were pressed
into my left arch. I rooted down through my legs, reached my arms
overhead, and just then, the lights flickered overhead. On, off, on, off, on.
I paused and glanced up to see Erik standing against the far wall near
the entrance of the gym. His arms were crossed over his chest. His inky
black hair was messier than usual, as if he’d spent the day tugging his
fingers through it in annoyance.
“Let’s go. I’m locking up.”
I’d been so ensconced in my own training, I hadn’t realized the entire
gym had completely emptied out. How late is it?
“Just one more,” I said, holding up my finger.
He flicked the lights off again, leaving me in darkness. “No. You’ve
done enough. The beam will still be there in the morning.”
I wanted to argue. How does he know if I’ve done enough? He hadn’t
been watching.
He flicked the lights back on—as I knew he would—and without
missing a beat, I bent my knees, whipped my arms behind me, pushed off
my toes, and pulled through for one more standing full. My feet hit the
center of the beam for a perfect landing and I smiled.
The lights flickered out again.
“Fine. Have it your way.”
I heard him open the door to the gym and then slam it closed behind
him.
The asshole wasn’t going to turn the lights back on, which meant I had
to feel around in the dark for my gear. I vaguely remembered where I’d left
my gym bag, but my shoes and shorts weren’t with it. I groaned and felt
around, eventually giving up.
I was barefoot when I pushed the gym door open.
Erik was leaning against the wall, waiting for me.
“Feel good to ignore your coach?”
I smirked. “Great, actually.”
“You could do that full in your sleep. The last thing you need to do is
push yourself too hard and get injured this close to the games.”
I rolled my eyes and turned to the parking lot. His beat-up truck sat
alone.
“How were you planning to get home?” he asked.
I dug around in my gym bag for my cell phone. “Molly.”
He grunted and pushed off the wall. “Let’s go. I’ll drive you.”
The ride was tense to say the least. He didn’t turn on the radio and he
wasn’t offering up conversation, so I stared out the window and watched
the pine trees whip past us. My phone vibrated in my hands and I glanced
down to see it was my mom calling.
“Take it,” Erik said.
I didn’t ask why he was being nosy. I swiped my finger across the
screen and smiled when my mom’s voice filled my ears.
 “Brie!”
I tilted my head so Erik would have a harder time hearing our
conversation. “Hi Mom.”
“You sound tired.”
My head fell back against the headrest. “I am.”
“Did your coach keep you at practice until just now? I’ve been trying to
reach you for the last few hours.”
“No. No. I was working on beam and lost track of time.”
She laughed. “Why am I not surprised?”
We turned from the main highway onto a gravel road. By my estimate,
we still had another ten or fifteen minutes until we arrived back at the house
—too long to sit in silence with Erik—so I asked my mom about her day.
“Oh, it was good, babe. Lots of work. You know how social services
can be. Most of the time it feels like an uphill battle.”
“Have you put any thought into where you want to celebrate when I get
home?” I asked, trying to get her mind off work.
“Brie—”
“Mom.”
“Let’s not talk about this right now. What else is going on? You’re
enjoying Seattle, right? Coach Winter isn’t pushing you too hard?”
In the gym or in real life?
“He’s fine.”
“Just fine?”
I was aware of him listening a few feet away from me. He was most
definitely taking in every word I said, and I decided there was no point in
letting the opportunity go to waste.
“I mean, I’m used to mean coaches, but he definitely takes the cake.”
Erik grunted in the driver’s seat.
 My mom sighed. “I’m sorry, honey. Just a few more weeks and then
you’ll be done and you can take a much deserved break. No more mean
coaches.”
I inhaled her words. I couldn’t wait to take a break; I couldn’t remember
the last time I wasn’t working out in the gym every day.
“He’s pretty cute though,” she continued with a laugh. “I know I
shouldn’t say so since I’m your mom.”
I laughed and leaned closer to the window. “No comment.”
The truck jerked into park and I jerked forward. I hadn’t realized we
were so close to home.
“We’re here,” Erik said with a hard tone.
I glanced over to see him staring out through the windshield, sharp jaw
set tight, eyes narrowed. He was annoyed. What else is new?
“Mom, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”
I hung up and pushed my phone back into my gym bag. My hand
reached for the door handle, but then I paused and turned back. He was still
staring out through the windshield, ignoring me.
“Listen, about this morning. I didn’t mean to barge in and—”
He shook his head before I could continue, leaned over, and pushed
open my passenger door. I ignored the feel of his strong forearm as it grazed
my bare thigh.
“Get out, Brie,” he ordered. “I’m late for a date.”
All day he’d treated me like shit, and now he was pushing me out of his
truck so he could go on a date? I hated the idea of him out on a date. He
was supposed to be focused on us and our training.
I shook my head and shoved off my seat. “Thanks for the ride, Coach.
Maybe tomorrow after you bang some random chick you’ll actually be able
to look me in the eye at practice.”
 I slammed the truck door closed hard enough I knew it would piss him
off, spun on my heel, and walked toward the guesthouse, resisting the urge
to flip him off over my shoulder. I’d never once talked to a coach the way
I’d just talked to Erik. As a rule, I respected authority, did what I was told,
and kept my head down. I wouldn’t lie though—walking away after
delivering the last word felt pretty damn good. Maybe I liked this new
version of Brie better than the old one. She had chutzpah.
When I pushed through the guesthouse door, I found my team sitting
around the kitchen table, eating dinner. I dropped my gym bag near the door
and glanced over their meals: broccoli, chicken, sweet potatoes. It looked
pretty bland, but I was too hungry to care.
“Finally! I was about to put a search party out for you,” Molly said,
spinning around to take me in. Her eyes widened at my flushed face.
I headed for the fridge and pulled out one of the meals sitting up top. It
was filled with asparagus instead of broccoli. What a culinary adventure!
“You okay?”
I nodded and dropped my meal on the kitchen counter. On second
thought, maybe I need a chance to cool down. I put the meal back into the
fridge and walked past them toward the stairs. “I’m going to shower.”
Not one of them said a word as I took the stairs two at a time and
slammed my bedroom door. I stripped off my leotard and tossed it in the
dirty clothes hamper. I turned the shower on to its hottest setting and let the
water spill down over me, erasing my weird morning and my shitty practice
and that tense car ride home. No amount of lavender-scented body wash
could calm me down though; I was still fuming when I stepped out and
wrapped myself in a towel.
I whipped the bathroom door open and leapt a mile in the air when I
spotted Rosie, Lexi, and Molly sitting on the edge of my bottom bunk
waiting for me.
“Can’t a girl get some privacy?” I asked, rifling through my clothes
until I settled on the same pajama pants and tank top I’d been wearing
earlier that morning. The cotton material of the tank top was worn and soft,
and in that moment, that’s all I wanted: something familiar and comfortable.
“Oh please.” Lexi waved her hand. “I’ve seen boobs in my day; don’t
act like yours are all that great.”
I glared at her as I pulled my underwear on beneath my towel. “At least
I have them.”
She laughed. “She’s back! I was scared we’d lost you for a second.”
I shook my head as I pulled my tank top over my head and dropped my
towel. “Sorry, Erik was just such an ass today and I swear he’s targeting me
more than anyone else.”
The three of them nodded.
“Obviously,” Molly said.
“Maybe he’s just having a hard time adjusting to the five of us living
here,” Rosie said with a shrug. “And I mean, you did break into his house
this morning.”
Lexi snorted. “Rosie, you’re naive. Brie might be a criminal, but that’s
not why Erik is worked up. He sees what we all see. Brie has this sexy,
alluring thing about her.”
I waved my hand. “Hi, I’m right here. Remember?”
Molly laughed and pushed off the bed. “All right c’mon. Let’s go put on
a movie and relax. No more thinking about practice for the rest of the
night.”
We agreed, and I told them I’d meet them downstairs after I finished
drying off. Once they were gone, I walked into the bathroom and stared at
my reflection. Was Lexi right about me being sexy? I’d never in a million
years thought of myself that way.
I leaned forward and stared at my features. I had light brown eyes that
looked brighter in the sunlight. I had clear skin and a few freckles dotting
the bridge of my nose. Sometimes if I angled my face just right and pouted
my lips, I felt pretty. I did it then and after a moment, I realized what I was
doing: I wanted to be sexy for Erik. I was trying to see what he saw when
he looked at me. I shivered at the thought.
“Fuck him,” I muttered, reaching for my hairbrush and yanking it
through my long brown strands. There was no point in blow drying it. I’d
just toss it into a braid or ponytail for practice in the morning.
The girls had already picked a movie by the time I made it back
downstairs. I plopped down in the middle of the couch between Molly and
Lexi, and Molly passed me a giant bowl of popcorn. I ate it, stuffing giant
handfuls into my mouth. I knew I’d eventually have to get up and make
dinner, but until then, I’d fill my stomach with buttery goodness.
“Did you guys seriously pick a romance?”
“Yes,” Lexi said, stealing some popcorn. “Deal with it.”
I didn’t know what the movie was called, but it had Emma Stone and
Ryan Gosling and there was no need to actually pay attention to the plot.
Really, it was worth it just to see Ryan Gosling walk around in a fitted suit.
Sometime later—during a part of the movie that didn’t include Ryan on
screen, thus wasn’t important—I heard a truck door slam and my heart leapt
in my chest. It was early, which meant Erik’s date must have been terrible if
he was already home. I pushed the popcorn bowl onto the coffee table and
hopped off the couch.
“What are you doing?” Lexi asked, following after me.
 “Spying,” I said, pulling the living room drape aside to see the gravel
drive.
Erik was rounding the front of his truck to open the door on the
passenger side. The seat I’d occupied two hours earlier had been stolen by a
leggy blonde with a tight black dress and killer heels. He held the door open
for her as she stepped out and I rolled my eyes. Who is he trying to fool with
the gentleman act?
“Jesus Christ, is that a playboy bunny?” Lexi asked.
I glared at her. “She’s not that pretty.”
She snorted. “Yeah, hot is more like it.”
Whatever. So she had that beach babe thing about her—long blonde hair
curled to hell and tan skin—big whoop. Everything was probably fake. I
hope.
Erik pressed his hand to her lower back and guided her to the back door
of his house.
“Is he seriously bringing a new girl back to his house?” Molly asked
from over my shoulder. “He was with a brunette the other night.”
“So inappropriate,” I spat just as the two of them ducked inside. The
kitchen light flipped on and I caught their shadows moving behind the
drapes.
“I mean, it’s not that inappropriate. He’s single and young,” Lexi
argued. “It’s not like he has to be celibate just ’cause he’s our coach. He’s
not a priest.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Whatever. He can do that stuff somewhere else.
We don’t need to be around it.”
“You’re jealous,” Molly said, watching me as I spun away from the
window.
“No. I just think it’s super unprofessional.”
Lexi smirked. “Fine. Then let’s do something about it.”
CHAPTER TWELVE

Erik

I LIED TO Brie when I pushed her out of my truck. I didn’t have a date,
but I did go to my favorite bar downtown and nurse a drink for half an hour
before Cassie approached me. She was in the middle of finishing her
internal medicine residency at a hospital downtown. She’d explained that
most nights she was on call, but she had the night off and fortunately for
her, she’d found me at the bar. We’d talked for a little bit then I’d leaned
closer, brushing her silky hair off her shoulder.
“Want to head out?”
A smile had slowly overtaken her lips as she nodded. “Let’s go.”
I lead Cassie through the back door of my house and offered her a glass
of wine.
“I’d love one,” she said, turning slowly and inspecting my kitchen.
“Red or white?” I asked.
“White please.”
I pulled open my fridge and found a stray bottle rolling around in the
bottom drawer. I rarely drank wine and the fact that I actually had a bottle
chilled was a happy accident.
“This is a pretty cool place you have here,” she said as I uncorked the
bottle of wine. “How long have you lived here?”
 “Nearly ten years.”
She nodded and took a seat at the kitchen island. Our gazes landed on
the bag of muffins sitting between us. Brie had left them there that morning
and I’d already devoured four.
“These look homemade. Do you bake?” Cassie asked with a smile.
I shook my head, reached for the bag, and tossed it into the trash.
“Nope.”
She laughed, nervous.
I didn’t bother offering up any more of an explanation as I poured her a
generous glass of wine and slid it across the counter. Her blue eyes met
mine and she smiled.
“Cheers.”
Before I could bring my glass to my lips, there was a knock on the front
door.
Cassie frowned. “Who’s that?”
“Probably Jehovah’s Witnesses.”
She laughed. “This late?”
“They’re relentless this time of year. I swear they have a quota.”
I whipped open the door, surprised to find Rosie standing on the porch,
fidgeting and wringing her hands.
“Rosie?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
She swallowed slowly. “Um, do you have an egg we could borrow?”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out if I’d heard her right. “An
egg?”
Her eyes darted to the guesthouse and then back to me. “Uh, yeah. An
egg.”
“To borrow?”
Her hands squeezed tighter as she nodded.
 “Right,” I continued. “An egg.”
I walked back into the kitchen, pulled the full carton out of the fridge,
and walked back to hand Rosie the entire thing.
“Thanks,” she said, taking it out of my hand and bolting from the porch.
“Were they hungry?” Cassie asked with a laugh after I closed the door
and joined her in the kitchen.
I took a long sip and nodded.
She laughed again. I was happy she didn’t pester me about the intrusion,
and even happier to see her glass already in need of a refill.
I opened my mouth to ask her about residency, curious about why she’d
chosen the internal medicine route, when another knock sounded from the
door.
Her smile faded. She clearly hadn’t expected any disruptions to our
night. I held up my finger, dropped my glass back to the counter, and
walked back to answer the door.
This time, Molly was standing on the other side, holding her hand to her
forehead.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, speaking a little more gruffly than I had with
Rosie.
“Do you have an Advil?”
I shook my head. “You guys don’t have Advil over there?”
She sighed. “No, and I have a really bad migraine.”
I gripped the door, resisted the urge to call her bluff, and turned for the
stairs. Once there, I reached into my medicine cabinet for Advil and pulled
out Tylenol as well. When I handed both over to Molly, she peered over my
shoulder, trying to get a good look at Cassie.
“Is that it?” I asked, holding the door in my fist and starting to close it
on her when she hadn’t budged.
 “Oh, right.” She turned and shook the pills overhead. “Thanks!”
I closed and locked the door, walked back into my kitchen, and finished
off the rest of my wine with a long gulp.
“Is everything okay?” Cassie asked, peering at me from beneath her
long lashes.
I nodded and tried to plaster on a smile. “There’s a group staying in my
guesthouse and they’re being extra needy tonight.”
“Oh, like Airbnb?” she asked.
“Something like that.”
I hadn’t told Cassie about my job because I didn’t like all the questions
that came with the conversation. It was safer to stick to medicine. Usually
doctors could ramble on for hours if you got them started.
“So, tell me what it’s like working downtown. Do you have to work in
the ER?”
Her eyes lit up at the question, but she’d hardly opened her mouth to
answer when another knock sounded at my door. This time, the knocks
were louder and longer than before and I nearly threw my empty wine glass
across the room in frustration.
Christ.
“Um…if you need to handle your guests, I can totally come back
another time,” Cassie said, starting to edge off her barstool.
I shook my head and reached out to touch her arm. “Stay. This will just
take a second.”
I can kill five girls quickly, right?
When I whipped the door open, Lexi was standing on my porch with
her arms crossed and a devilish smile spread across her face.
“Evening, Coach Dub.”
“What do you want, Lexi?”
 She smiled wider. “Do you have a cell phone charger I could borrow?
Mine’s dead.”
“Borrow one from one of your teammates,” I said, stepping back to
close to door.
She reached out and used her hand to keep the door propped open.
“Fine. Then I need a thermometer.” Her hand covered her mouth as she
pretended to cough. She didn’t even bother to sound convincing. “I think
I’m coming down with something.”
“Lexi, I don’t know what kind of shit you guys are pulling, but—”
I felt a hand hit my lower back as Cassie slid past me to get through the
door.
“Hey, this has been fun, but I’m going to head out. I have an early shift
tomorrow.”
I shook my head and reached out for her. “No. Stay.”
She smiled and waved her phone in the air. “It’s cool, the Uber driver’s
already a minute away. I’ll catch you around town sometime.”
She waved over her shoulder and headed down the gravel drive without
a second thought. I couldn’t blame her. In the ten minutes she’d been in my
house, I’d had three different people come and knock on my door. I’d
treated each one with more disdain than the last, and if I were her, I would
have left too.
Lexi shot me a self-indulgent smile. “Actually, I feel better now. Maybe
it’s a miracle? I should start going to church again.” She turned and hopped
down the porch steps. “See you at practice tomorrow!”
A few yards behind her, nearly hidden in shadows, Brie stood with her
arms crossed. Her chin was raised; her shoulders were back. She was
wearing a smirk that matched Lexi’s and the gleam in her eyes—shining in
the moonlight—conveyed how proud she was of herself.
 When Lexi reached her, they fell into a fit of giggles and turned to speed
back to the guesthouse in tandem.
“BRIE!” I boomed.
She stopped dead in her tracks. Lexi tried to pull her forward, but she
wouldn’t budge. She knew better.
“I need to talk to you,” I said, lowering my voice to a subtle shout.
She said something to Lexi and then turned to assess me. Lexi
continued to the guesthouse, glancing between; she was clearly worried to
leave her friend with me, but Brie stood confident.
“Then talk,” she shouted across the yard, locking her arms across her
chest.
“In private,” I said, walking back into my house and leaving the door
open for her.
I poured myself another glass of wine, then thought better of it and
poured it down the sink. I corked the bottle and stuck it back in the fridge,
slamming the door closed in time to hear Brie’s footsteps hit the hardwood.
“Shut the door,” I said, turning to assess her.
The cool girl standing in the shadows a moment earlier was replaced by
the softer version I’d seen in my kitchen that morning. Her hair was still
damp from a shower and when she turned, I noticed she wasn’t wearing any
makeup. She was nothing but soft tan skin and wide brown eyes.
“What do you want?” she asked with a skeptical tone.
“That was quite a stunt you just pulled,” I said, stepping around the
kitchen island and cutting the distance between us in half.
She braced herself, steeling her shoulders and fisting her palms as I
grew closer. She glanced away, pinning her attention on my couch, and
shrugged.
“I don’t know what you’re t—”
 “Cut the bullshit. What is your goal here?”
It was a long few seconds before she finally answered, and by then I
was only a foot away from her, close enough to inhale the sweet scent of
coconut from her shampoo.
“We just don’t think it’s appropriate for you to bring girls back to the
house. Surely you can find somewhere else to fuck them.”
My lips twitched as the expletive left her lips, but that wasn’t the word I
focused on.
“Women,” I corrected.
“What?” she asked, her gaze snapping back to me.
“I fuck women in my house. Not girls.”
Her eyes narrowed and I felt desire grip my cock like a warm hand.
Those damn eyes. If they weren’t slicing me in two, they were begging me
closer, promising to devour me.
I took another step closer. “You’re upset I brought my date back here?”
I leaned in close so she couldn’t miss my words. “Guess what…” My voice
was low, nearly a whisper. “This is my house and I’ll fuck here whenever I
want.”
Her nostrils flared in anger.
“You’re supposed to be our coach! I just don’t thi—”
“I don’t care what you think,” I argued, cutting her off. Her back hit the
front door as she tried to get away from me, but I conquered every inch she
ceded. She thought she could manipulate my life, thought she could send
her teammates over to do her bidding and there wouldn’t be consequences?
Wrong.
“Why don’t you say what you’re really mad about,” I continued.
The game was a diversion. Brie wanted Cassie gone, but she wasn’t
being honest about her motive. She didn’t give a fuck about propriety; she
was upset that Cassie was here for another reason…something she’d rather
keep secret. I smirked, knowing full well what she was trying to keep
hidden.
“Is this what you’re so desperate for, Brie?” I asked, my breath
skimming her bare neck as I leaned forward. I was nearly brushing my lips
across her skin, but I held off, gauging her reaction. “Is it my attention you
crave?” I reached forward and gripped her lower back to bring her stomach
flush with mine. I wanted her to feel my hardness, feel how real this
situation was. Her hands reached out to grip my chest, trying to put a barrier
between us, but I wouldn’t let her.
“Do you want me to touch you like I was going to touch her?” I was an
inch away from her lips when she slid her tongue out to wet them.
I smiled, pleased with how much I was affecting her. “You’re not mad
that I brought a woman back here, Brie. You’re mad that it wasn’t you.”
She practically snarled at the accusation. She reared back and pushed
me away as hard as she could, but I barely budged.
“You’re an asshole,” she said, deflecting the accusation.
“And you’re a child having a tantrum. Get out of my house.”
She turned and whipped open the front door. The thick wood would
have slammed straight into me had I not stepped out of the way in time. I
watched her walk back to the guesthouse, sparks flying off her. She loved
teasing and testing me, but she couldn’t handle the consequences. She
thought she could keep nipping at me and I wouldn’t bite back.
After this morning in my kitchen, I’d assumed she was harmless, naive,
but she’d pushed too far. She’d assumed too much. I’d needed a night with
Cassie. I’d needed to blow off steam, sink my cock into a woman, grip her
hair in my hands, and fuck her hard. Brie had ruined that and now, I wasn’t
just going to bite back. I was going to draw blood.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Brie

SHRILL, LOUD BANGS were the first thing I heard the next morning.
They rang out downstairs like fireworks exploding in the sky and they
broke me out of my REM cycle with a jolt.
“Jeez! What is that?”
“What’s going on?” Molly asked, jerking awake in the top bunk.
I wiped the sleep from my eyes and pushed off my bed just as the
crashes started again, this time even louder. I pressed my hands to my ears,
trying to dull the sound, but it didn’t help.
“WAKE UP!”
Erik.
“You have five minutes to get dressed and get down here!” His voice
boomed through the house, forcing a shiver down my spine.
Molly jumped off the bunk and started tossing clothes out of her
suitcase.
“You coming?” she asked, turning to glance at me over her shoulder.
I’d been standing by, immobile, processing the fact that Erik was in our
house, yelling. The night before, I’d assumed he would kiss me. His body
was on mine, pushing me up against the door with enough force to make
my toes curl. I’d tried to hide how turned on I was, but he knew. The
bastard definitely knew.
“FOUR MINUTES,” he yelled.
I inhaled a deep breath and followed suit, reaching for a clean leotard
and a matching black top and shorts. I brushed my teeth quickly and threw
my hair in a braid.
“So I guess he didn’t appreciate the jokes last night?” Molly asked,
coming up to stand beside me so she could reach for her own toothbrush.
I avoided her eyes in the mirror and didn’t offer a reply. The girls had
asked me what had happened when I’d returned from Erik’s, but I’d ignored
their questions and locked myself away upstairs. I’d tried hard to go to
sleep, to forget how hard he’d felt against me, how badly I wanted to taste
him, but the harder I fought against the memories of him, the more they
corrupted my mind. Residual adrenaline and desire had swirled through me
all night, and it wasn’t until 2:00 AM that I was finally able to drift to sleep.
Now, glancing down at my phone on the bathroom sink, I realized it was
only 4:30 AM. No wonder I felt like I’d been hit by a truck.
Lexi and June were already downstairs when I took the stairs two at a
time. Erik was standing in front of them with pots scattered around his feet
and when I glanced up to meet his eyes, I nearly melted beneath the heated
gaze. I wanted to look away, to cower, but I lingered there, trying to find
even a sliver of the emotion I’d seen the night before. He’d wanted me
against that door. I’d felt his desire burning between us, but now, in the
kitchen, he wasn’t just furious—he was indifferent. His cold eyes swept past
me as he shouted up the stairs.
“Molly! Rosie! Hurry up!”
He wore a gray Henley shirt that stretched tight over his broad chest and
shoulders. I focused on his arms, on the thick muscles corded beneath his
shirt. He was so much bigger than me, tall and broad, and realizing that sent
an icy chill running down my spine.
“If Rosie and Molly aren’t down here in the next minute, it’s an extra
mile,” he said with a calm, dark tone.
“ROSIE. MOLLY,” Lexi yelled back over her shoulder. “Get down here
already!”
“We’re coming!” Rosie called out from the top of the stairs.
They made it downstairs just before the minute was up, and when all
five of us stood shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen, he swept his gaze over
us, landing on me with a small smile.
“Who knows how far the gym is from here?”
My stomach tightened.
“Five or six miles?” Rosie offered with a fragile tone.
“Eight.” He turned and headed for the door. “Let’s go.”
Our Jeep was sitting out in front of the house, but he passed it and
directed us down the dark gravel drive. The moon painted his yard in eerie
light and I suddenly wished for the sun, thinking maybe he wouldn’t seem
quite so intimidating in the light of day.
“Apparently I haven’t given you all nearly enough work to occupy your
time. As of today, that changes.” He turned and pointed down the deserted
road. “Run.”
He wanted us to run all the way to the gym? The sun was nowhere near
rising; we’d be running in the dark.
“Are you serious?” Lexi asked with a laugh. “I don’t even know how to
get there. We’ll get lost in the middle of the woods or something.”
He swept his arm back around and pointed at the road. “Run.”
Fuck him. He wanted to punish us for ruining his booty call the night
before? Fine. This wasn’t punishment anyway; this was a morning stroll.
 I walked ahead of the group and stopped a few feet in front of him. I
could smell his body wash as I stretched out my calves, making a real show
of it. “Do we need to get there it in a certain amount of time or—”
His blue eyes pierced mine. “Don’t test me right now.”
I offered a shaky smirk that I hoped looked more confident than it felt.
“Yes, sir. I just want to make sure I run fast enough for you.”
He leaned forward, invading my space. He’d taken the time to shave
and I found myself wishing he hadn’t. His jaw was a weakness of mine, so
sharp I preferred when it was softened with stubble. Without facial hair, his
face was too handsome, too smooth and inviting. His jaw sat in perfect
complement to his high cheekbones and though I knew he’d slap my hand
away, I was tempted to run my finger along the edge and feel its
smoothness in the moonlight.
I was pissing him off; I knew it and I couldn’t stop. He had been right
the night before—I did like his attention on me, even if he was about to rip
my head off. I thought he’d say something—he looked like he was on the
verge—but instead, he shook his head and brushed past me like I meant
nothing, less than nothing.
My skin was on fire and my heart was pounding against my chest so
hard it hurt, but I straightened my back and set off down the gravel drive.
The girls could join me if they wanted. I had a vague understanding of how
to get to the gym and a whole hell of a lot of energy to burn.
I ran for the first ten minutes before I heard footsteps behind me on the
dark road. The sun was creeping up enough over the horizon and once our
eyes adjusted, it wasn’t so hard to see. I followed the road, took deep
breaths, and ran.
No one said a word the first few miles; I think we were all too stunned
by the change in Erik. We’d pushed him too far, but he deserved it. Or so I
kept telling myself.
“What the hell did you guys do last night?” June shouted from behind
me.
I was setting the pace for the group and I didn’t have to turn around to
feel her glaring at the back of my head.
“Nothing,” Molly answered.
June snorted. “So then why am I running down a dark road at 5 in the
morning? This is bullshit.”
“You know what’s bullshit,” I said, whipping around so quickly Molly
ran straight into my chest. We gripped onto each other’s shoulders to steady
one another and then I turned to June. “It’s bullshit that you think you’re too
good for this team.”
Her eyes widened in shock, but it didn’t last long. She stepped up until
the toes of our tennis shoes hit. “I’m sorry I don’t want to help you get into
our coach’s pants! I have more important shit to do than hang out with any
of you.”
I groaned. “You don’t eat with us. You don’t talk to us. When we get to
Rio it’s supposed to be us against the world.”
She shook her head, eyes glossing over with fury. “No. It’s me against
the world. Now get out of my way.”
With a burst of speed, she pushed through me so hard I fell back against
the pavement. Loose gravel ripped into my palms as I caught myself and I
hissed at the sharp sting of pain.
“Oh hell no,” Lexi said, reaching for June, but she was too fast. She’d
already started sprinting away, heading for the gym without us.
Rosie rushed forward to help me to my feet. “Are you okay?”
I nodded and brushed my hands against my tank top. My palms stung
and when I flipped them over, there were a few drops of blood, but it wasn’t
anything I hadn’t dealt with before.
“She’s the worst,” Molly said, reaching back to wipe the loose gravel
from my shorts.
“I actually feel sorry for her,” I said, staring off toward where she was
running in the distance. “These next couple weeks are going to be nearly
impossible and if she wants to go it alone, I’m not going to stop her.”

BY THE TIME we arrived at the gym, I was exhausted, bloody, and

sweating through my clothes. I wanted to go back home, shower, and go
back to sleep, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen. Erik stood outside
the gym doors, waiting for us to arrive, further proving how far I was from
the safety of my bed.
“June beat you all by five minutes.”
“Because she attacked Brie,” Lexi muttered under her breath as she
brushed past him and pulled open the gym door. I moved to follow after her,
but Erik reached out and gripped my arm to stop me. I glanced down,
shocked to find that his hand nearly eclipsed my bicep, so powerful he
could have ripped me apart if he wanted to. Hell, it feels like he’s already
started.
The girls went inside, but he wouldn’t let me budge. I stared past his
shoulder, ignoring his gaze and the feel of his hand on my arm. I knew he
could feel my pulse jumping against his palm, but at least he’d assume the
heavy rhythm was from my run and not from his proximity.
“If you’re going to ask why she attacked me,” I said, taking a step back
so he finally released me. “Just save your—”
 He laughed then, a dark, sinister sound that chilled my blood. “I don’t
care.”
I inhaled a shaky breath, waiting for his next words.
“This isn’t about June. This is about you and me.”
I locked my jaw and fisted my hands, ready to fight.
“The next time you pull a stunt like you did last night, you’ll get a one-
way ticket back to Texas.”
He leaned in close like he was getting ready to tell me a secret.
“I’m going to say this once, but I want you to think about it every time
you feel like fucking with me.” His lips were inches away from mine as he
continued. “You’re replaceable. Do you understand? There are a million
gymnasts who would cut their right arm off to be a member of this team.”
I pressed my lips together, trying hard to act as if his words meant
nothing.
“You aren’t special, Brie, so stop acting like it.”
His words had the same effect as a knife to my heart. You aren’t special.
I was fuming, sweaty, angry, and ready to attack him. Instead, I forced a
slow-spreading smirk. “We both know that’s an empty threat. I led trials in
three out of four events. I’m not trying to brag, it’s just the truth. If you get
rid of me, the committee would let you know in a heartbeat who the real
replaceable one is.”
He stood there as I brushed past him and walked into the gym. I ripped
off my tank top and shorts. The rest of my team was already stretching out
on the floor, guzzling from water bottles and stretching out tired muscles.
June sat on the opposite side of the floor with headphones in. I resisted the
urge to say something to her as I took a seat next to Molly.
She passed me her water and nudged my shoulder. “What was that all
about?”
 I shook my head. “Nothing. He just wanted to know how we’d
managed.”
Lexi smirked. “I’m sure that was it.”
I barely managed two sips of water before Erik descended on the floor
behind us.
“We’re not done yet,” he said, kicking an empty water bottle aside.
“Stand up and get in line.”
Not a single one of us argued with him and for the next two hours, he
led us through the hardest workout of my life. Handstand pushups, burpees,
skin-the-cats, and more sit-ups than I’d ever done before. I thought my
limbs would fall off, but I never acted like I was close to giving up; I didn’t
want to give him the satisfaction.
We were in the middle of a set of pushups when his shoes cut into my
line of sight.
“Keep counting,” he said, crouching low in front of me and casting my
body in his shadow.
“Twelve,” we said in unison, bending our elbows and lowering our
chests to the ground.
We pushed back up to a plank position and his hand hit my neck. I
jumped, surprised by the touch, but I continued, trying to act as if he didn’t
scare me. A string of goose bumps bloomed across my skin as he dragged
his palm lower, resting it between my shoulder blades. My leotard left me
exposed there and his palm felt good, warm and solid against my skin.
“For the past few days, I’ve been trying in vain to earn this team’s
respect,” he said, holding his hand steady on my back.
We bent down for another pushup and counted the number aloud.
“But if you won’t give me your respect freely, then instead, I’ll just take
it.”
 As soon as his words hit me, the force of his hand on my back
increased. He pushed down with the weight of his entire body, keeping me
from pushing back up to a plank position. I struggled beneath him, straining
and groaning with the effort, but try as I might, I couldn’t win against him.
“Do you feel how hard it is to resist me?”
I gritted my teeth, searching for some residual pool of strength, but he
pushed down harder, making it nearly impossible for me to move. Maybe I
could have finished the pushup on another day, but we’d already been at it
for hours and my arms were shaking, threatening to give out.
“Ugghhh!” I groaned as I collapsed on the floor. My lungs gulped in air
and my eyes pinched closed. I stayed there, frozen, relishing the break.
Erik stood and walked off, and I swore I heard a light chuckle.
“Asshole,” I muttered under my breath.
He stopped dead in his tracks, turned, and glared at me on the ground.
“Since Brie didn’t finish that round, we’ll all repeat it. From the top.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Erik

BRIE WATSON’S METEORIC rise to gymnastics elite has taken the

world by surprise. Watson is by far the least experienced—the other four
members of the women’s Olympic team have been competing at the highest
level for half a decade—however, she just might be the most formidable.
She’s earned gold at the World Gymnastics Competition three years in a
row, and when the Olympic games begin next month in Rio, she’ll have a
chance to write the next chapter of her inspiring Cinderella story.
Watson’s path to success was never an easy one. Raised by a single
mother, she has been no stranger to hardship. Her mother, Monica, worked
long hours at several jobs to make ends meet and ensure that Watson could
continue to train in the sport. The hard work of both Watson women
eventually paid off after Brie qualified for her first World Gymnastics meet
in 2013. Faced with the prospect of bankrupting the small family to finance
the cost of attending, the eventual world champion nearly pulled out. But
when a friend close to the family set up a Kickstarter page online, Watson’s
tightknit gymnastics community pulled together to fund her path to the
world championships.
Much of her success can be attributed to her coach Igor Bortnik at Elite
Gymnastics in Austin, Texas. He saw “an indomitable spirit” in young
Watson and pushed her to consider making gymnastics a full-time aspect of
her life—
I was in the middle of reading the article about Brie when my phone
vibrated on the table beside my laptop. I reached to silence it, then paused
when I saw my mother’s number flash across the screen.
I inhaled a deep breath and answered it, bracing myself for the worst.
“Hi Mom.”
“No. It’s me.”
My father.
Bastard.
“Thought you were in the hospital?” I asked, leaning back in my chair
and crossing my arms. Even half a country away, his voice geared me up
for a fight.
“I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks. We have to discuss the girls’
training—”
“Not interested.”
The man was not only on the brink of a heart attack, he was fucking
delusional.
“Erik, please,” he said with a gruff tone. “Put our differences aside for a
moment and realize you need me. Let me help you. I’ve been in your
position for the last thirty years.”
I smirked and shook my head. “Yeah, so I’ve heard. What was it—seven
Olympic teams? And not a single one of them earned all-around gold.
Maybe it’s time to change things up a bit.”
Silence.
“Put Mom on,” I ordered, done with our conversation. It wasn’t going
anywhere anyway.
 I heard the phone exchange hands and then my mother’s voice cut in.
“Erik? Sweetheart?”
“Don’t do that again.”
She sighed. “I’m just trying to help. I know you won’t answer his calls.”
“I haven’t answered his calls for ten years and that’s not going to
change now.”
A door shut on the other end of the line and her voice dropped low.
“He’s sick, Erik. I suspect you’ve read about it in the news, but it’s worse
than they’ve made it out to be.”
My gut clenched despite my anger.
“They’re going to try surgery in a few days, but the doctor isn’t sure it’ll
help. He already has two stents in his heart.”
“I don’t care.”
“Erik,” she hissed, hurt.
“Do you honestly think I’m going to send the man a get well card?”
“I’m not saying your feelings aren’t valid!” she argued, sounding
defeated. “I know he’s not been kind to you. I just don’t want you to—”
“Regret it,” I cut in. “Yeah, I get it. You don’t have to worry though. I
lost my dad twelve years ago. The man lying in that hospital room means
nothing to me.”
I hung up and pushed away from the table. I was already in my running
gear, prepared to head out after breakfast, but the article about Brie had
distracted me.
It was still early, hardly 6:00 AM, the best time to run. I didn’t bother
stretching. My calves would have to deal with it later because I needed to
run, needed to work off my excess anger from that phone call. I set off,
turning right out of the driveway and heading out on the deserted road.
I was a mile in when something up ahead caught my eye.
 Brie.
She was running alone with her iPod in an armband and her earbuds in
place. Stupid. Out on these deserted roads, anyone could have grabbed her. I
shook my head and kept my distance, just far enough away that with her
earbuds in, she couldn’t hear my shoes on the pavement behind her. She
was heading away from town, through winding roads with no ends. Did she
think about that before setting out by herself? I didn’t live in a
neighborhood. The roads were confusing, the trees all the same. I’d gotten
lost myself a few times when I’d first moved here, but Brie seemed to run
without a care in the world.
Until her shoe came untied.
I came up short, at a loss for what to do. If I stopped running and she
looked back and saw me, it’d be weirder than if I just kept running. Right?
Fuck. Why did I care? I shouldn’t have given two shits about Brie Watson’s
opinion, but as I rounded the top of the hill and she came within a few
yards, I knew I was lying to myself.
Her head tilted up as she finished tying her laces. Her brows scrunched
in confusion and she reached up to pull out her earbuds.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked with a scowl.
I ran past her without answering and I heard her audible groan from
behind me as she pushed to her feet and ran to catch up to me.
“You were following me weren’t you? Jesus.”
My fists tightened at the accusation. Is she kidding? “Don’t flatter
yourself. I run every morning.”
“Right.”
She still didn’t believe me.
I picked up my pace, leaving her in the dust. Unlike her, I was smart
enough not to run with headphones in. If someone pulled over to kidnap
her, I’d hear it. There was no sense in slowing down to protect her. She
obviously thought she could protect herself.
“Hey wait!” she called, speeding up to catch me. “Now I’m the weirdo
following you. Let’s just run together.”
I shook my head. “I run by myself. Ask the Lumineers to keep you
company.”
I ran faster.
She caught up, but her breathing was heavy, strained. I glanced over to
see her chest rising and falling in her tight tank top. A trickle of sweat slid
down her neck and disappeared between her breasts. I whipped my gaze
back to the road as my dick stirred in my athletic shorts, not letting me
ignore the sight of Brie’s body in tight running clothes.
“I like to run by myself too, but we’re both already out here,” she said.
“Jesus, can you just slow down a little bit?”
There was no use in running unless it was a workout. “I only run with
people that don’t slow me down.”
“Oh please, you’re practically sprinting to get away from me. Just run
like a normal person.”
I slowed down a smidgen, just enough to earn a little smile from her.
“Why do you want to run with your asshole coach anyway?”
To her credit, a slight brush crept up her neck, overtaking her already
flushed face. “I believe in second chances,” she said, sliding her gaze to me
with a hint of playfulness. “Or in your case, seventh or eighth chances.”
I grunted. “You deserved what you got yesterday.”
She sighed and then slowly, as if the words were torture for her to say,
she continued, “You’re right, I’m sorry. Okay? Bring as many girls home as
you want. Far be it from me to try to dictate the terms of your booty calls.”
 I smirked but turned away before she could see it. Brie was bluffing and
unfortunately for her, she had a shit poker face. I saw the way she looked at
me, the stolen glances in the gym, the burn of desire behind her gaze.
Reading between the lines of her defiance gave away the extent to which
my presence had affected her. Around me she was a ticking time bomb, but
then again, she had lit my fuse as well. Toying with Brie was quickly
becoming my favorite pastime and a part of me wondered why I was doing
it. Yes, she was disrespectful and constantly talked back during practice, but
she was hardly the first strong-headed girl in my gym to be guilty of that.
No, I was enjoying her punishment a little too much. Most coaches would
have ignored the insubordination rather than engaging it, distanced
themselves from the problem until it worked itself out peacefully. Most
coaches would have stayed safely behind a professional facade, but
unfortunately for her, I wasn’t most coaches.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Brie

I DIDN’T HAVE a lot of friends growing up. In gymnastics, if you’re

good, you’re lonely. Sure, in the lower levels, you develop friendships—it’s
impossible not to; spending twenty hours a week with the same set of girls
pretty much ensures that. The awkward part comes during evaluations.
Which girls improved over the course of the year and which ones
straggled? Inevitably, some of the team gets bumped up to the next level
and some are left behind to perfect their skills and hold on to promises of
“next year”.
My friends dwindled more and more each year. It wasn’t hard to get
bumped from level 5 to 6, but by the time I was competing at the elite level,
my friends were all left on the outside looking in. They practiced at
different times. Even the kindest among them couldn’t hide the resentment
in their eyes when we happened to cross paths, and truly, I didn’t blame
them. At practice, the coaches couldn’t help but favor me, showering me
with attention because they saw my true potential.
I was fourteen when I quit school to focus on gymnastics full-time.
They had tutors for us at the gym and we still had to take classes and finish
a GED, but it wasn’t the same. There was no lunch, no cute boys to distract
me in first period, no prom, no parties on the weekends.
 I was only twenty, but it felt like I’d lived a thousand lives already. In
Texas, my days were long and regimented. There weren’t weekends or
vacations. I had a singular goal and my entire life revolved around it. My
body was a machine. My hands were callused. My bones had dealt with
breaks and sprains and fractures. I knew what it felt like to push myself to
my limit and then go ten steps further. I wouldn’t be able to rest until I had
that gold medal around my neck. Then, maybe, finally I’d feel like I was
worth all my mother’s sacrifices.
“How do you want your omelet?” I asked Molly.
I was in charge of dinner that night and I was sick of the prepared food
sitting in the refrigerator. We had a hot plate and a pan, and I was using
them.
“Super cheesy, please!” she said, licking her lips.
“I want bacon in mine!” Lexi said.
They were sitting at the table with forks in hand, ready to devour
whatever food I dropped in front of them.
I shook my head and dipped forward to rummage around in the fridge.
“We have ham, onion, cheese, and spinach.”
“Fine. Extra ham then.”
After I whipped up omelets for my team (save June who nuked a
prepared meal with her head down and then carried it up to her room like
we didn’t exist), I scanned over the extra ingredients I’d prepared.
“Does anyone want another one?”
Full groans and protests proved I’d made enough omelets to feed an
army, but I didn’t want the extra eggs to go to waste. I glanced over my
shoulder and paused on the dim light of Erik’s house in the distance.
Without a second thought, I turned back to the hot plate and poured some
eggs into the pan, adding a mixture of ingredients in the very center.
 “No, seriously. I can’t eat another,” Molly said, patting her stomach.
I smiled down at the pan. “It’s not for you.”
“Surely you’re not going to give it to Ju—”
“I bet it’s for Erik,” Lexi said with a laugh. “You’ve got Stockholm
syndrome, girl. The man literally tortures you and you make him eggs?”
“Maybe she’s poisoning it,” Molly pointed out.
I rolled my eyes and flipped the omelet in the pan. “I’m not going to kill
him. Jeez.”
“Then you really are in love with the guy. He was such a jerk
yesterday.”
I straightened my back. “I’m not in love. Haven’t you heard of a peace
offering? We have a few more weeks with the guy. There’s no point in
fighting with him the whole time.”
Lexi snorted. “You like fighting with him. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
I turned to stare at them over my shoulder, but they avoided my eyes.
Even Rosie kept her gaze on her plate, not bothering to protest.
“I’m standing up for myself. That’s all.”
“Mmhmm. Remind me, after Rosa Parks stuck it to that bus driver, did
she bake him a soufflé?”
I ignored Lexi and slid the finished product onto a paper plate. The
three of them sat in silence as I slipped on my flip-flops and headed through
the door.
“We’ll leave the light on for you!” Molly said with a laugh.
I shook my head. They were being ridiculous. Eggs and flip-flops
weren’t some grand romantic gesture—I was just trying to solidify the truce
we’d seemed to come to during our run. For miles, he and I ran side by side,
sometimes talking, mostly running and listening to each other’s steady
breaths. After that, he didn’t ignore me quite as much during practice. He
helped me with my form on a tumbling pass on floor. Sure, I’d nearly
swallowed my tongue when he’d come up behind me and slipped his hands
down my arms, rotating them in the air and showing me the path my body
should take when I was flipping. I’d pretended like I was confused so he’d
have to do it again and when I’d glanced up, Molly and Lexi were making
crude gestures across the gym. Fortunately, Erik hadn’t noticed and when
he’d released me, I’d kept my head down, hiding my flushed cheeks.
When I walked up the stairs of his porch, I caught movement behind the
front window and peered inside, wanting to ensure he was alone before I
knocked. If he’d brought another girl home, I wasn’t going to interrupt
them. Still, my stomach tightened at the thought. Would he really bring
home another girl? I leaned another inch to the side and spotted him pulling
open a kitchen cabinet. His back was to me and he was wearing nothing but
low-slung pajama pants.
I barely managed a quick glimpse before he turned back to drop a bowl
on the counter. I whipped around, pressed my back against the side of the
house, and hoped he hadn’t seen me.
I took two deep breaths, glancing down at the omelet shaking on the
paper plate.
Get it together. You’ve seen a guy without a shirt on. Correction: I’d
seen boys without their shirts on. Erik was all man.
After another calm your shit breath, I leaned back and peeked through
the window. He was pouring cereal into a bowl, and while the act itself was
innocent, he looked positively sinful doing it. The simple movements
stretched the taut muscles of his abdomen and obliques, making me salivate
on the spot. His body was insane, lean and toned enough to make my heart
race and my hand shake harder. I let myself absorb him for another second,
trying to pin to memory every detail I could manage: his smooth shoulders,
his tan chest. Every part of him begged to be touched—from his mussed up
hair to his bare feet—but then like a slap to the face, I realized what I was
looking at: Erik was at home, eating a bowl of cereal for dinner.
Alone.
Sure, maybe he was a brooding jerk, but even monsters need warm
meals.
I glanced away from the window, forced my hand to stop shaking, and
then walked to the back door and knocked.
“One sec,” he called from inside.
I fidgeted on my feet, watching the steam rise off the omelet just as he
whipped the door open and finished pulling a tight gray t-shirt on over his
head. I saw a glimpse of his abs up close and gaped at the sharp V that
disappeared into his pajama pants just before the material covered him,
stealing him from my sight.
“Brie?” he asked, drawing my gaze up to his face.
He’d seen me checking him out.
I held out the plate. “We made dinner and I figured you might want
some.”
His brows rose in shock. “What did you put in it?”
I groaned. “What is it with everyone thinking I’m trying to kill you?”
He smirked and I looked away.
“Obviously, if I wanted to kill you, I would do it in a much more painful
way than poisoned eggs,” I continued with a soft smile. “So eat it or throw
it away. I don’t care.”
He reached out for the plate.
“You say that a lot,” he said, holding the door open a little wider.
It was an invitation.
“Say what?” I asked, clasping my hands in front of my chest.
 He turned away from the door, leaving it ajar for me as he walked into
the kitchen.
“You ‘don’t care’.” He threw the words over his shoulder as he pulled
open a drawer and grabbed a fork.
I stood on the porch for another second as he took his first bite of the
food I’d offered. His head bobbed in approval and the appreciation settled
like an anchor in my stomach. Why did I want to impress him? Prove to
him that I was more than what he saw?
I fidgeted in place, glancing back to the guesthouse and wondering what
the girls would think if I disappeared inside Erik’s house.
“Shut the door before the bugs get in,” he said. “I’ve already got enough
tenants to deal with.”
The command spurred my body into action before I’d even made up my
mind. I stepped into his house with a long inhale and then turned to shut the
door. The ominous sound of it settling in place released a swarm of
butterflies inside my stomach. The last time I’d been there he had pressed
me up against that door, yelling at me for ruining his date. There’d been
anger in his eyes then, but when I met his gaze over the kitchen island, there
was something new: curiosity.
His attention swept down my body as he took another bite of the
omelet.
“This is good,” he said.
He’d nearly scarfed down half of it already. I smiled and walked closer,
taking a seat across the wide island. With him on one side and me on the
other, I felt some semblance of safety. It was an illusion, but I tried not to
fight it. I liked the way the granite felt between us. Stone was as strong a
barrier as any.
“It’s not fancy or anything.” I shrugged.
 He nodded and peered up at me from over his plate. “What do you care
about?” he asked.
I scrunched my brows, confused.
“You like everyone to think you don’t care about anything,” he
continued, going back to our earlier conversation. “So I’m curious, what do
you care about?”
I gripped the edge of the island and tilted back in my chair. “Umm…”
My gaze flitted around his kitchen, trying to think up an answer that didn’t
sound like a cliché dating profile. “I like baking and running.”
He nodded, swallowing down another bite. “I already know that.”
I glanced back to him. His gaze was on me, eyes narrowed, dark brows
drawn together in concentration.
“Why does it feel like you’re, I don’t know, gathering intel on an
enemy? Are you going to use this against me the next time we fight?”
His features relaxed slightly. The edge of his mouth tipped up in a
seductive smirk and he dragged his gaze across my bare neck and down to
the top of my chest. My skin heated under his casual perusal. “You’re not
my enemy.”
I swallowed slowly and hoped my next words didn’t come out shaky.
“Honestly, I don’t have much in my life I care about outside gymnastics.”
“Your family?”
Family was an exaggeration. Can two people be called a family? We
were a duo, a pair—hardly a family. Erik’s gaze met mine across the island
and I stilled at the intrusion. His blue eyes were searching, trying to see past
my facade and dig out my insides. When he looked at me like that, I had an
unexplainable urge to back up, to hold him at arm’s length and ensure he
didn’t get any closer…but then I realized that though it felt like it, he
couldn’t read my mind. He couldn’t know how much he affected me, so I
eased the tension in my shoulders and answered him on my terms.
“My mom is great. She gave up a lot so I could compete when I was
younger.”
“And your dad?”
My instincts told me he knew more, but then I reminded myself it was a
simple question. Most people have two parents.
“I never knew him.”
I didn’t need to elaborate. There really wasn’t more to say; I didn’t miss
someone I’d never met.
“What about friends?” he asked, sensing my desire to move on from the
subject.
I tilted my head toward the guesthouse and offered a small smile.
“You’re already familiar with them.”
He nodded and tossed his fork in the sink. It rattled against the shiny
stainless steel.
“And boyfriends?” His voice was rough, like sandpaper against my
nerves. “What about them?”
I laughed, thinking he was making a joke, but when I met his gaze over
the island, my breath caught in my throat. He was serious. Dead serious. He
had his hands propped up on the granite counter, and he was leaning closer,
studying me. It felt like a game even then. He was baiting me, daring me.
I blushed and glanced away. “I’ve had a few.”
I could see his faint smile out of the corner of my eyes.
“Yeah? Did they last long?”
“A few months. Nothing serious.”
I was answering like a suspect in a cross-examination, as if my
attorneys had counseled me to offer no more information than was
necessary.
His expression told me he thought I was bluffing.
“I know it must shock you,” I continued, glaring back at him. “But
some men actually find me attractive.”
“Oh I don’t doubt it,” he replied, no hint of sarcasm in his tone. “So
why don’t those men last?”
I shrugged. “Elite gymnastics isn’t exactly conducive to casual dating.”
“Yeah? Is that the only reason?”
“I’m a busy girl,” I said, purposely leaving it vague.
“Something tells me it had more to do with impatience…or maybe
boredom,” he said.
“Boredom?”
“I think girls your age start to lose patience for boys that don’t know
what they’re doing.”
He was so close to the bull’s-eye that I narrowed my eyes and sat back
in my chair, folding my arms over my chest. Truthfully, I’d had a string of
duds in the last few years. Zach was slightly better than the rest, but he had
been naive and just as inexperienced as me. After him, I’d had high hopes
for Noah, but that had crashed and burned. They were all the same: young
and nervous and shaking. It’s like they wanted to look but were too scared
to touch.
I’d be damned if I let Erik know that though.
“I assure you, Zach kept me plenty interested,” I replied with a
suggestive smile.
His gaze slid to my mouth and my smile faded. I licked my bottom lip,
trying to ease the tension growing between us. It swirled in the air, tingling
against my bare skin.
 “Somehow I don’t believe that.” He tilted his head and ran his finger
along his smooth jaw. My lips ached to do the same. “I’ve never met an
interesting Zach.”
He was egging me on with his fuck-me smile and smooth words. He
seemed wholeheartedly unaffected by my presence in his kitchen and that
only made me want to push back harder. I liked this little game we were
playing and I’d die before I let him see me falter, so instead of backing
down, I leaned forward until my breasts hit the island and offered him a
slow-spreading smirk.
“This one was interesting enough to take my virginity.”
I caught his sharp intake of breath, that fleeting moment of shock at my
blunt response. For a moment, I tasted control and I fucking loved it, but
then a devilish grin overtook his lips and a rush of heat pooled between my
thighs.
I’d just poked a bear.
“So you’ve been fucked, Brie?”
My jaw dropped, but his eyes twinkled with amusement. Asshole.
“I have fucked,” I corrected coolly, as though the semantics mattered at
the moment.
“How’d he take you that first time?”
My chest tightened and I resisted the urge to flatten my palm there, to
ease the pain. He wanted details. Fire burned through me. It’d be so easy to
walk away, but I liked this. It was fun to shock him, to say the dirty words
out loud.
I answered with a calm tone, like the words spilling out of my mouth
were fitting for an afterschool special. “He took me to his house when his
parents were at work and he locked us in his room. He kissed my neck as he
bent me over the edge of his bed. I can still remember the exact moment
when his hand first dipped between my legs.”
His brow arched in disbelief though the devilish grin spread an inch
wider. “I think you’re lying.”
I was exaggerating.
There’s a difference.
Zach had barely managed to roll on a condom before he came, buried
halfway inside me. It’d been the most disappointing moment of my life, but
I had technically been bent over his bed.
“I can’t imagine Virgin Zach knew how to handle you,” he continued
with a voice that finally sounded strained.
“I don’t care what you can imagine.”
“Is that right?”
I nodded, past the point of return.
“How did he make you come?” he asked with a challenge in his eyes.
Heat coiled around my chest and neck. It felt like it was a hundred
degrees in his kitchen. Boiling hot. I was more turned on than I’d ever been
before and he hadn’t even touched me. His hands were still on the granite,
propping up his body and keeping him a safe distance from me.
“With his fingers,” I answered.
“And his mouth?”
How did we get to this point? I couldn’t believe Erik, my coach, was
here asking me for specifics about my orgasms, and even more, I was
answering. My stomach quivered and this time when I spoke, it was hardly
more than a whisper.
“All the time…”
He smirked. He knew.
 I turned away before he could sense my embarrassment. My hands
worked to smooth my pajama shorts, but the pressure on my thighs was too
much. I moved them away as he replied.
“I think you’re lying, Brie.” My breath caught in my throat as I glanced
up and met his smoldering gaze once again. “You’ve never really had your
pussy licked.”
God.
That word.
He couldn’t say that word and expect me not to storm out…and yet I
wasn’t leaving. I was melted to my spot, trying hard to ignore my pounding
heart, my sweaty palms, the urge to wet my lips again.
“Did he make your body burn?”
My skin felt warm and a cold sweat broke out across the back of my
neck.
He laughed, a low chuckle that told me he was teasing me, playing with
me. I was an idiot. I whipped my head back to look at him.
“If you mean the way I feel when you’re around me? No, he never
infuriated me the way you do.” His eyes narrowed. “You have a way of
crawling under my skin like no other man ever has before.”
The edge of his mouth tipped up again, amused. “So not counting the
boys, Brie—how many men have you been with?”
He was teasing me again and I was sick of it. I pushed away from the
counter and turned for the door.
“Enough to recognize a bad one when I see him,” I snapped.
I flung the front door open so hard it slammed against the wall then I
strode out into the chill.
“Go to bed, Brie. I don’t play with girls.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Brie

I HATED ERIK with every fiber of my being. It’d been a few days since
I’d stormed out of his house; I still wanted to rip his face off, but in my
dreams—when I wasn’t in control—my mind morphed him into my darkest
fantasy. No matter how hard I tried to resist him during my waking hours,
the moment I closed my eyes, he was all I saw.
In my dreams, our time in his kitchen had played out differently. He’d
tossed the fork into the sink and stalked around the kitchen counter,
watching me like prey.
He’d asked me how many men I’d been with and then he’d caged me in,
dropping his hands to the counter on either side of my body.
I felt his warm breath on my neck and a shiver ran down my spine.
“None,” I replied, truthfully.
He groaned and leaned closer, wrapping a hand around my waist until
his chest was flush against my back. His lips hit my neck, dragging down
slowly. I knew he could hear my breaths quickening. I knew he could feel
how turned on I was.
“I want to bend you over this counter,” he said, forcing me forward so
that I had no choice but to give.
 My face hit the cold granite and his hands were on my waist, sliding my
tank top up to expose my back. His palm ran along my spine, burning my
skin.
“You’d let me wouldn’t you?” he asked with a dark tone as he pushed
his hard cock against my ass. “You’d let me to take you like this.”
I was going to come from nothing more than his dark words whispered
in my ears. I could feel my insides churning, growing, warming…
A pair of feet hit the ground beside me and I jerked awake. Molly stood
beside my bed, reaching forward to hit snooze on our alarm. I blushed,
hoping she wouldn’t look over at me; thankfully, she turned and headed into
the bathroom. I sighed and glanced down to find my body fully covered by
my blanket. Underneath, my legs were spread wide, my hand was down the
front of my panties, and my fingers were touching my soft skin the way
Dream Erik had been.
Embarrassed, I ripped my hand out from beneath my blanket just as
Molly glanced over with her toothbrush in her mouth.
“Hurry or you’ll be late for practice,” she said, completely clueless of
my nighttime escapade.
I was relieved; I didn’t want anyone to know the extent of my feelings
for Erik. The feelings that were rioting in my chest were better left locked
up. I knew I could force them to the side, tamp them down if only I kept
trying. Lusting after my asshole coach wasn’t exactly why I’d traveled
across the country. I’d all but depleted my bank account so I could train in
Seattle. I was here to focus on gymnastics, to perfect my routines for Rio,
and Erik was nothing but a distraction. He liked to rile me up, to pull my
attention away from what was important, but I wouldn’t let him. I had a few
weeks left before the Olympics and if I wanted to win gold, there was no
room for Erik’s games.
 In the gym that day, I tried to put my thoughts into action, but I was off
all day. I stumbled on easy skills, losing balance over the simplest of
moves. During my beam rotation, I didn’t land a single standing full and my
ankle was hating me for it. My focus was nowhere near the gym, and Erik
knew it.
“Brie, that’s the fourth Deltchev you’ve eaten shit on,” he said as I
pushed myself up off the mat and tried to catch my breath.
We were working on uneven bars and it was going just as pitifully as
my beam rotation had gone before it.
“You’re better than that,” he continued with an angry tone.
Like he needed to tell me. Like he needed to point it out in front of
everyone. I was the one who’d missed the high bar and fallen flat on my
face. I was the one whose air had been knocked from my chest. I was the
one whose shoulders ached and whose hands were torn up and bloody
beneath my grips. I was the one who had to compete in three weeks.
Fuck!
“You’re wimping out at the last second,” he continued with a dark tone
as I got to my feet and brushed past him. “Trust your body and go for it!”
“I am!” I shouted back so loudly I felt the vibration in my chest.
The gym went silent.
Molly cleared her throat and Lexi tried her best to hide a snicker.
Erik jerked around to face me with enough fury in his eyes that I nearly
cowered. My knees wobbled and I knew on another day, I could have
collapsed down, gripped my hands together, and begged for his forgiveness.
Instead, I held my ground and tilted my chin an inch higher. Couldn’t he see
I was trying? Couldn’t he see I was having an off day? It wasn’t my fault.
“Excuse me?” he asked, his jaw tightened with anger.
 I ripped my grips off my hands and winced at the pain of the rips
opening up along the tops of my palms.
I glared at him, too riled up to back down. “I said, I am trusting my
body. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
If I’d toed the line with disrespect with the first comment, my second
comment had blazed past it. Even Lexi didn’t laugh then, too focused on
whether or not Erik would kill me.
He stepped closer, bending low to level me with a dark gaze. “Thin ice,
Watson.”
I clenched my jaw and tilted my chin, showing him how little he
intimidated me. Sure, my entire body was shaking like a live wire, but I
prayed he didn’t notice.
“Get back up on the bars.”
My hands stung; I knew a few of the rips were bleeding. I needed
Neosporin and ice. He knew I was at my limit and he didn’t care. He
wanted me to look down, avert my eyes, and offer up a submissive yes sir. I
would have eaten my own tongue before I gave into him then, but if he
wanted another routine, I’d give him another routine.
I put my grips back on and chalked them while my team stood off to the
side, watching our exchange with wide eyes.
There were certain elements an Olympic uneven bar routine had to
consist of: a transition from the high bar to the low bar, a release move, the
dismount, etc. The entire routine needed to flow from one movement to the
next without any pauses or extra swings. Exact handstand positions were
expected and large deductions were given for even minor deviations. Bent
knees, piked hips, even a slight gap between my feet and I could kiss my
chance of winning gold goodbye.
 The routine I planned to compete in Rio was the hardest routine I’d seen
in competition. It was packed with difficult transitions and release moves,
and if I could compete it with a clean finish, there was no question I would
outstrip every other gymnast there.
That day in the gym after Erik chewed my head off, I didn’t perform my
routine for Rio. Instead, I pulled from the skills I’d learned in my early
tween years: easy giants, kips, hip circles. A five-year-old could have done
the same routine. I released from the high bar with a soft push, not
bothering with a release move. When my feet hit the ground, I swiveled
toward Erik and held my arms out in an exaggerated V to signal the end of
my routine, but it was less of a finale and more of a Go fuck yourself.
I could feel the tension emanating from him as I walked away, but I tore
off my grips and threw them behind me, too exhausted to care.

Molly: Wow. That was…

Lexi: AWESOME.
Rosie: Are you okay? I’ve never seen you like that before.
Brie: I’m fine.
Molly: Where are you?
Brie: In town.

After storming out of practice, I’d gone back to the guesthouse and
showered, trying to calm my temper. A night of baking—flour, sugar, and
freshly baked bread—would have helped, but I didn’t dare approach Erik’s
house after my tantrum in the gym. No. Instead, I slipped on a soft
sundress. It was an old favorite that was a bit too short for Seattle’s cool
weather, but I didn’t care. I liked the feel of the cotton against my skin. It
was a small comfort, and after the day I’d had, I knew I’d take anything I
could get.

Lexi: Where? We’ll come join you.

I glanced around the bar and tried to find a name plastered somewhere.
The place was small and dark, a real hole-in-the-wall I’d stumbled into by
happenstance. I’d been walking around downtown Seattle, trying to find a
distraction far away from the world of gymnastics. I needed a place to hide
out for a few hours so when I turned down East John Street and found the
door to the bar unmanned, I walked in and found a spot in a secluded booth.
The place was perfect. It had low lighting, loud music, and was all but
deserted.
I felt bad not ordering anything, but there was no point in trying to get a
drink. For one, I couldn’t afford it, and two, I didn’t want to get kicked out
once the staff realized I was underage.
The young bartender—who’d been eyeing me from behind the bar since
I’d first walked in—came over to my booth and offered me a small smile.
He dropped a glass of water on my table and the coaster beneath it had the
bar’s name printed around the edge in big bold letters: Paul’s Ice House.
“Figured you could use some water.”
I smiled. How polite.
“Thanks,” I said, grateful.
“Can I get you anything else?” he asked, tilting his head to get a better
view of my downturned head. I glanced up and offered him the smile he
was after. He was cute, with blond hair, kind eyes, and an affinity for the
color black. He looked to be around my age, maybe a year or two older.
“I’m good. Thanks.”
 “We don’t usually have girls come in here alone,” he said, eyeing the
group of men sitting at the bar, griping about a baseball game playing on the
TV.
“Should I leave?” I asked, testing him.
His smile widened and he leaned closer. “Not until my shift is over in a
few hours.”
I smirked and glanced away, indicating that he could go back to work. I
wasn’t leaving.
When he went back behind the bar, I unlocked my phone to reply to the
group text.

Brie: I’m at a place called Paul’s Ice House. I’ll just call when I need a
ride home. I don’t feel up for company.
Lexi: Whatever emo girl. Just don’t yell at the bartenders like you yelled
at Erik. We might not be able to pool enough bail money to save you.

I rolled my eyes and pocketed my phone, annoyed at her for bringing

Erik back to the forefront of my thoughts.
I’d had a terrible day at the gym and I couldn’t pinpoint where the stress
was coming from: Erik or the Olympics. Most of the girls on my team were
veterans. This was their second time competing in the games and they knew
how to handle the pressure. Rosie and I were the only rookies, though there
was one glaring difference: Rosie was young. She had at least one more
Olympics to compete in after Rio, but for me, this was it. At twenty, my
body was at its peak, but it was also tired. I could feel the ache in my
muscles, the need for a break. My tendons and cartilage wouldn’t survive
four more years of wear and tear. Maybe that was why it was hard to
breathe at times. The pressure of having one chance at changing my life
grew to be too much to handle at times.
If I flew to Rio and competed anything other than perfect routines, I’d
have to fly back to Texas with a depleted bank account and no endorsement
deals to show for it. I’d go right back to my old life—same shitty apartment
complex, same overworked mom, same tiny bed that squeaked any time my
mother adjusted in her sleep—except this time, I wouldn’t have gymnastics
to distract me. No, I’d have a GED and a mountain of regret. I couldn’t do
it. I had to win gold; I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t.
“Figured you might want something a little stronger than water,” the
bartender said, returning to my table and sliding into the seat across from
mine without an invitation. Between us, he dropped a pint of amber-colored
beer. I glanced up to meet his eye and smiled my thanks. He nudged the
beer an inch closer to me. White foam spilled over the sides and I leaned
forward to suck down the first few ounces so it wouldn’t spill over the rim
when I picked it up off the table.
The bartender seemed to enjoy the show.
“What’s your name?” I asked, eyeing him over the brim of the glass.
“Colby.”
I smirked. “I’m Brie.”
“Colby and Brie.” He nodded, already gloating. “Cheesy, but it looks
like it’s meant to be.”
The rowdy group near the bar interrupted our flirting with loud cheers,
reminding me of their presence. “Shouldn’t you be manning the bar?”
He shrugged. “Those guys tip like shit anyway. Besides, this is my
uncle’s bar. He can’t really fire me for flirting on the job.” His gaze dragged
down my neck and chest, not bothering to hide his attraction.
 I laughed and took another small sip of beer. I hadn’t had dinner yet so I
made a point to take it slow.
“Don’t like it?” he asked with a laugh.
I shrugged. “I can’t really stand beer to be honest.”
His brow arched. “I could have guessed that. You look kind of uptight.”
I furrowed my brows. “Uptight?”
He pointed to my hair. It was up in a tight bun and even though a few
wisps had fallen out, I knew the visual it offered. I looked like a prima
ballerina when I styled my hair like this, but Colby didn’t seem to mind.
“I bet we have a bottle of champagne or something in the back,” he said
with a sly smile. “Want me to try to find it?”
Before he could get up, a shadow fell over our table, blocking the hazy
yellow light from the bar. I knew it was him before I even looked up—not
because he had some kind of superpower over me, but because the man had
a signature smell, his natural scent and mountain fresh body wash
combining in a way that made my body tingle.
Erik.
His gaze hit me, dragged down to the beer I was still clutching in my
hand, and then slowly swept over to Colby.
“Get out of the booth.”
Colby reared back, surprised. “Excuse me? This is my bar.”
Your uncle’s bar.
“Do you always serve alcohol to minors in your bar?” Erik asked,
pointing to the beer in my hand.
His voice was pure grit and if I had been Colby, I would have gotten the
fuck out of the booth, but he didn’t budge.
Colby shook his head, feigning innocence and looking to me for
backup. “Man, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
 I shrugged, bored. “I’ll be twenty-one in two months.”
Clearly, Erik was bored too, because he leaned in and gripped Colby’s
collar in his fist, yanking him out of the booth.
“What the hell!?” Colby shouted, yanking out of Erik’s hold. “I’ll call
the cops, bro. Are you her dad or something?”
I bit back my smile.
Erik practically snarled. “Or something.”
Colby threw up his hands, deciding I wasn’t worth the trouble—or
maybe he realized Erik wasn’t a man to challenge. He was taller than
Colby. His chest was broader. His arms were leaner, muscled. His eyes,
though beautiful, worked well to warn most people off, and his strong jaw
finished the job nicely.
I clapped slowly, drawing Erik’s attention back to me as Colby
wandered back to the bar, mumbling under his breath. “Good work. You
saved the world from a twenty-year-old having a drink and a moment of
peace.” I pointed to the door. “You can go now.”
He slid down into the booth as I leaned back. Colby had sat in that same
spot a moment before, but Erik filled the space, consuming everything
around him like a black hole. I crossed my hands over my chest, steeling
myself against his presence.
He reached across the table and gripped my beer, taking a long drag
before leveling me with his gaze.
“Quite a day you’ve had,” he mocked.
I looked away, not interested in his teasing, but when he spoke up again,
there was no hint of amusement in his tone.
“When I used to have bad days in the gym, I took it out on my coaches
as well.”
 His honesty shocked me, but I kept my gaze on the TV screen,
pretending like I cared what was happening on the baseball field.
“I had a bad temper and a short fuse. No one was harder on me than
myself, and I know you’re the exact same way.”
I glanced back at him with an arched brow. “I ate shit today—on skills I
can usually do in my sleep.”
He nodded, swallowed another sip of beer, and waited for me to
continue. I didn’t, not right away. I let him finish off nearly half my beer as
I worked up the courage to talk to him.
“It’s starting to get to me,” I said, hating the softness in my voice. “We
leave for Rio in two weeks.”
“Two weeks is plenty of time.”
I snorted. “Right.”
“I meant what I said earlier. You’re not trusting your body. You’re
letting the competition shake your confidence and you need to relax.
Remember you’re a world champion. The Olympics aren’t that different
than Worlds.”
I shook my head. “They’re very different and you know it.”
He sat back and drank his beer, letting me stew in silence.
“No,” he argued, finally. “I don’t know. This will be my first games too.
I quit competing a month before the Olympics and never came back to the
sport.”
I arched a brow, surprised he was willing to offer up details about his
life after the day we’d had.
“Were you injured?” I asked, bringing up the rumor I’d heard.
He turned away, narrowing his eyes on the row of alcohol behind the
bar. It was a while before he answered. “It was a culmination of things.” He
rubbed his hand across the back of his neck before meeting my eyes again.
“The reasons aren’t important.”
I could sense a darkness there, a secret he wasn’t quite willing to offer
up yet. I wanted to lean forward and take his hand, promise he was safe
with me, but he wasn’t. We weren’t each other’s confidants. Far from it.
“That’s fine if you don’t want to share the reasons, but I am curious.”
I stared at his lips cast in the hazy glow of the bar. “Curious about
what?”
“If you regret it.”
He leaned close so I had no choice but to focus on him, inhale his
beauty from across the table. “Never. Not once. The fire that burns in you—
that need to compete and win—it never burned inside me. I never had the
passion you have.”
“I’m scared I’m going to choke,” I admitted, playing with one of the
coasters on the table, tearing it in two and then in four. “June, Lexi, and
Molly have done this before. They know what to expect, but I feel like I’m
the wildcard. I could go down to Rio and win gold, but I could just as easily
go up in flames.”
“It’s not luck, Brie,” he pointed out. “It’s skill, and you’ve got it.”
I laughed. “Do I? It didn’t feel like it today.”
He dropped the empty pint glass back on the table and pushed up off out
of the booth. “You need to forget about today. It’s gone. Over. Tomorrow
you’ll get back in the gym and your body will know what to do. Give
yourself a break.”
I slid out of the booth after him; I knew there was no point in resisting if
he was ready to go. He dropped a few bills on the table to cover the beer
and Colby’s ego, then ushered me toward the door with his hand wrapped
tight around my elbow. I inhaled a deep breath, feeling the stress of the day
start to melt away. His body was right behind mine, steady like a rock as he
led me out to the parking lot.
“Thanks for that,” I said as he held the passenger door open to his truck.
When I glanced up, his gaze was on my mouth, hovering there for a
moment before he backed up.
“It’s nothing,” he assured me, rounding the front of the truck to get to
the driver’s side.
I hopped in and buckled my seatbelt. As he put the truck in reverse and
pulled out of the parking lot, I leaned forward to turn on the radio, trying to
find something to drown out the silence.
“It’s broken,” he said, catching my hand before I could turn the dial.
“And I’ve been too lazy to fix it.”
I smiled and settled back into my seat. “Or maybe you just like the
silence.”
He didn’t argue and when I glanced over, I could see him gripping the
steering wheel with both hands.
“I need to text the girls to let them know I don’t need a ride home.”
He shook his head. “They’re the ones who told me where you were.”
My brows arched; I hadn’t even questioned how he’d found me.
“Did you ask them where I was?”
His gaze was on the road and his knuckles were turning white on the
steering wheel.
I smirked. “You were worried about me, weren’t you?”
I liked the idea of him thinking about me, wanting to check in and make
sure I was okay. The fact that he didn’t answer only confirmed my
suspicions.
“You were.”
 He still didn’t reply, but a slow Cheshire grin overtook my features. I
leaned closer, focusing on his sharp profile. That jaw. Those cheekbones. I
wanted to brush my lips across them, listening for his quick intake of
breath. He was completely tensed, ready to fight, but there was no need.
“I thought you didn’t play with girls, Erik,” I said, throwing his words
back at him.
The game was over; I’d won.
With one quick jerk of the steering wheel, he whipped the truck to the
right. The tires thumped against the lane dividers and I lurched to the left,
holding my hands out to steady myself between the car door and the center
console.
He kept driving along the shoulder until we reached a line of oaks with
branches hanging low over the road. He slammed on the brakes and I jerked
forward. He killed the engine and the headlights faded. The sounds of the
forest invaded the cabin, owls hooting and frogs croaking.
I turned to face him, praying he’d gather his senses, restart the truck,
and pull back out on the road.
Suddenly, I was scared.
Suddenly, I wanted out of the game.
“What are you doing?” I asked with a shaky voice. “Take me home.”
He turned to me and the moonlight cut across his face, casting him half
in shadow.
“Unbuckle your seatbelt.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Erik

“WHAT ARE WE doing here?” Brie asked, her voice wavering. “It’s late.”
Now she was scared. Now she was the meek girl she had tried hard to
convince me she wasn’t.
“Unbuckle your seatbelt,” I repeated.
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared out at the road, resisting
me. I pushed off my seat and reached over to unbuckle her myself.
“Hey—”
I cut her off. “Prove it.”
“Prove what?” She turned to glare at me, fire brewing behind her
narrowed eyes. “God, just take me back to the house or we’re going to start
fighting again.”
Even as she tried to argue, her body contradicted her words. Her heart
was racing beneath that thin cotton dress. Her pupils were dilated. Her
hands shook as she crossed her arms, steeling herself against me. The air
between us was charged—electric—and when she took her bottom lip
between her teeth and bit down, I knew she could feel it too.
“Prove you’re not the weak girl. Prove you can get out of your head for
once in your life.”
I saw the fire spark in her eyes after that. They were smoldering.
 She was fierce; she wanted to be seen, and not just for her gymnastics
skills. No, she wanted to be desired. Coveted. Craved. Had anyone ever
touched her the way she wanted to be touched? Had anyone ever ripped that
bun out and tugged her long hair, tilting her head back to expose the creamy
skin of her neck?
I wanted to devour her. I wanted to reach across the front seat, tilt her
neck to the side, and drag my mouth down her chest, listening for soft
moans and cues for where to take my lips next. But sitting in the moonlight
with her trim body and her delicate features, she looked scared. I wouldn’t
touch her until she proved to me she wasn’t. If I pushed this past the point
of no return, I didn’t want to break her.
For three long breaths, we stared at each other from opposite sides of
the truck. Her eyes widened, questioning whether or not I was serious, and I
told myself that if she looked away, if she broke the connection, I’d restart
the ignition and take her home.
When a slow-spreading smile overtook her pink lips, I nearly lost
control. I contained my urge to reach over and pull her onto my lap, to force
her to feel my erection between her thighs, but suddenly there was no need.
She was moving, pushing off her seat and crawling over. She draped one
leg on either side of my hips and slowly—so fucking slowly—she slid down
to straddle me. Jesus. She was so sexy. Her dress rode up on her hips,
exposing her bare thighs. I touched her knees and then dragged my hands
higher. I gripped her thighs tightly, keeping her there as she settled into
place. I could feel her shake, nervous about crossing the line we’d both
been walking for weeks.
“You’re right, I’ve never been touched by someone like you,” she said,
leaning forward to drag her lips across my neck. “Show me what I’ve been
missing.” She sighed and her warm breath hit my neck like a shot of lust.
My palms moved higher and I glanced down, watching as I unveiled
another few inches of her thighs. Her skin was velvet there.
“Are you going to teach me?” she asked, pressing her lips to my neck
again.
I groaned and squeezed her thighs, answering her without words. My
thumbs were an inch away from her panties, so damn close and she knew it.
Her breathing picked up. Her breasts pressed against my chest with each
inhale she took. Her nipples were tight little buds, further proving her
desire.
“Touch me,” she begged.
Fuck.
I ripped one of my hands from her thighs and gripped her neck, tilting
her head so that when my lips crashed against hers, she couldn’t pull back.
She wanted to be felt and I was too selfish to leave her hanging. I kissed her
once, softly, then pulled back to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were wide and
dilated. Her lips were parted and just as I leaned in to kiss her again, she fell
forward to meet me. I kissed her hard and she whimpered. Her lips were
soft, tentative, but she warmed up quickly and started kissing me back with
equal fervor. She tasted so sweet and when I tilted her head to the side and
slipped my tongue past her lips, she ground down against me, rubbing
herself against the zipper of my jeans.
She knew how to move. She knew how to use her little body. All those
years of ballet ensured she knew how to keep a rhythm and she was teasing
me, showing me how good it would be with her on top, rolling her hips and
riding me until I couldn’t stand it. I used my hand to grip her waist, keeping
her against me as I rose up to meet her. Her panties were nothing, silky and
thin and so fucking wet I knew I’d have a stain on my jeans when we were
done.
 She pulled her mouth free and dragged it up to my ear, whispering
against my skin, “Don’t make me beg for it.”
I grinned and leaned back to stare down at her. She was a vision. Her
lips were swollen and red. Her bun was falling out and long strands of
brown hair fluttered around her face, framing her high cheekbones.
I moved my hand from her waist and brushed it up beneath her dress,
shoving it higher so her panties were finally exposed. She tried to lean in
and hide her face against me again, but I held her neck with my other hand,
tilting her so she had to face me, face us. I wanted her to watch this. I
wanted her to see me touch her. If she wanted to be with a man, she needed
to learn what that meant.
“Erik.”
Her panties were a pale shade of blue, dark and damp in the very center.
They were already slightly off center from her little lap dance. I could see a
sliver of her pussy, pale pink and so sexy I almost forgot she was there,
watching my reaction to her. A quick glance up showed she was wearing a
little smirk, so pleased with herself for stealing my control.
I didn’t wait then. I reached down and hooked my finger around the
material, brushing it to the side and baring her completely.
“Jesus,” I moaned under my breath.
Her fingers dug into the back of my neck and I didn’t hesitate then. I
reached forward and stroked a finger up and down her wetness, biting back
a groan as I did it again. I took it slow, feeling her and loving the way she
squirmed on my lap. Her legs parted even more, a silent plea for me to
continue.
“You’re so beautiful.”
She let out a soft cry as my finger found her most sensitive spot. I
circled around it gently, never quite giving her the touch she craved. I toyed
with her, teased her until she was nearly putty in my hand.
I looked up at her with a devilish smile. Now who has the control?
Her eyes were half hooded, lost in the hunger. She wanted it as much as
I did, maybe more, and when I brushed lower and finally, slowly, sank my
middle finger inside her, it took hardly anything. I dragged my finger out
and pumped it back into her tight pussy once, twice, three times, and then
she came apart for me, clenching around my finger and crying out in the
silent car.
Her hands gripped my shoulders, squeezing and digging into my flesh
as she rode out the rest of her orgasm. It was the most beautiful sight I’d
ever seen—and I knew I wasn’t even close to being done with her.
“Erik...” She squeezed her eyes closed and leaned back against the
steering wheel. My finger was still inside her, stretching her gently. “I…
just…give me a second.”
I didn’t listen. My finger was back to rubbing her in soft circles as she
jerked against me, still so sensitive and raw from coming undone a second
before.
“That was easy,” I said with a little smirk.
I knew the last few weeks had felt like the world’s longest foreplay, but
she had still come apart in my hands with barely any goading at all.
Her eyes flew open and she narrowed them on me. “Don’t let it go to
your head.”
Her hips rolled to meet my finger. Even then, she wanted more. She was
begging me for it.
I leaned forward, squeezing her neck. “Actually, I think I will.”
“Oh my god, there it goes.”
With a quick shove, she pushed away from my chest and unhooked her
legs from around my hips to move back to reclaim her spot on the
passenger side of the truck.
I laughed incredulously. “What?”
She shook her head and tried to straighten her dress, concealing her
body from my gaze. “Your ego seriously knows no bounds. I knew it’d be
impossible for you to just keep your mouth shut for two seconds.”
I leaned toward her, sensing her lust turning into anger. “I just had you
splayed out on my lap and it took hardly anything, just one finger and you
were throwing your head back, screaming my name.”
She crossed her arms. “Fuck off. You know, you talk a big game about
being this big bad man, but who was really in control just then? It seems to
me you were the one that drove downtown to find me, you were the one to
pull over after I said one little sentence, and now you’re the one sitting here
with blue balls, not me.”
I smirked. It would take more than a taunting to make me crack. “I
guess it’s a matter of perspective.”
She turned her head toward the passenger side window so I couldn’t see
her reaction. “Start the car, Erik.”
“Not until you tell me what it felt like when I touched you.”
“Worse than I could have possibly imagined.”
I nearly laughed as I started the car and pulled off the shoulder, but I
knew it would set her off even more. She was a little ball of fire, always
burning. She couldn’t just let herself enjoy a moment with me and it was a
reminder of why I wasn’t interested in girls her age.
We pulled into the gravel drive back at my house and she hopped out of
the car, leaning back in to grab her purse from where it’d fallen on the
baseboards. “And just so we’re clear,” she said, eyeing me with a
smoldering glare. “If you ever try to touch me again, I’ll bite your hand
off.”
 She slammed the door hard and turned for the guesthouse. I sat in my
truck, watching her walk away and taking in the curve of her ass in her tight
dress. I was so fucking hard. I palmed my erection through my jeans, trying
to ease the tension she’d just built up inside me.
She whipped the front door open and I hunched forward,
absentmindedly stroking my dick and trying to make sense of the last hour.
I laughed, thinking of how stressed I’d been about Rio the last few days.
Hell, it didn’t even matter anymore. I doubted either of us would make it
there in two weeks. She’d eat me alive well before then.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Brie

THE NEXT FEW days passed in a blur. If I wasn’t at Seattle Flyers, I was
working out on Erik’s property, going for runs, fielding my mom’s calls, or
hanging out with the team. I was running on fumes and I barely had time to
squeeze in basic hygiene, but it felt good. I was slowly starting to get more
confident in myself, but the Olympics were quickly approaching and my
routines still weren’t where they should have been.
“Again,” Erik said.
I glanced up to see him standing at the end of the beam, arms crossed
over his chest and his eyes on me. I stretched my arms overhead to gain
momentum for the sequence, but he shook his head.
“From the mount.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and hopped off the beam, tired and
wishing practice would end already. For the last few days, we’d both done
our best to avoid one another. I gave him space and he did the same. We
staggered our morning runs and generally stayed away from each other in
the gym. Despite what he’d done to me in the front seat of his truck, he was
still my coach, which meant I couldn’t avoid him forever.
“You feel that ache in your muscles?” he asked as I tried to catch my
breath. I’d lost track of how many routines I’d completed that day, but Erik
still wasn’t satisfied.
I reached up and massaged my arms. They were tired and shaky. There
was chalk and sweat all over them, but Erik knew my limit; he knew how
far to push me before I collapsed.
“Use it. You’re going to be exhausted when you get to this event. Your
muscles are going to tell you to quit, but you need to override them. Make
this routine just as good as the very first one you did today.”
I inhaled a deep breath and nodded, feeling strength building in my
body.
Beam was mine. It came so easy to me.
I just had to own it.
Beam was made up of difficult skills disguised by beauty and grace. My
years of ballet came in handy the most in this event. I finished my first pass:
back handspring, back handspring, layout full connected to a Korbut. The
Korbut was one of the hardest skills in my routine. It started with a
backflip, but instead of landing back on my feet, I had to pause my
momentum midway through and catch the beam with my hands, slowly
lowering myself down to straddle the beam. If I didn’t slow my momentum
enough or if my hands didn’t catch the beam in time, my thighs collided
with the beam hard enough to make me see stars. I’d messed the skill up
enough times to know I needed to stay controlled and nail it or I’d have
bruises to contend with later.
I finished the Korbut and moved into my next piece of choreography,
but Erik’s voice cut through the gym.
“Stop,” he said, cutting me off. I jerked my head up and stared at him.
“You’re still not trusting your body. You’re hesitating on the layout, and the
Korbut was weak. I could see you nearly falter at the end, scared to hurt
yourself.”
 My mouth dropped open in shock. “Of course I’m scared! Have you
ever split the beam? It freaking hurts.”
He shook his head. “It’s too late in the game for that. Your routine has a
9.1 start value; that’s the highest in the world. You’ve done that skill a
thousand times; stop acting like this is your first day in the gym.”
He didn’t give me time to reply before he walked away to help June on
uneven bars; just as his back was turned, I flipped him off with both hands.
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
God, I hated him.

LATER THAT DAY, after I’d showered and iced my aching muscles, I
stood at the living room window, peering past the curtain and studying the
hot tub that sat in the backyard between Erik’s house and the guesthouse.
There was a plastic covering on top, but I wanted to try it out. The
temperatures had dropped to the 50s now that the sun had set, and it would
definitely feel good to sink into the hot water and let my body relax for a
while.
“Wondering where Erik is?” Molly asked, coming up to stand beside
me.
The windows of his house were dark. His car was gone, and yes, I’d
originally peeked through the window to try to figure out if he was home or
not. Generally, it was easy to guess where he was—running, working out,
or coaching at Seattle Flyers—but it was late and the chances that he was
still up at his gym were slim to none. There were other options of course.
Maybe he’d gone to dinner with friends or maybe he’d gone to a bar for a
drink. Just the image of him sitting alone nursing a beer made my stomach
churn. How many women approached him in one night? A handful? How
many would he smile at? How many would he ensnare with his good looks
and smooth words?
And of course, there was the last option, the worst one of all. Maybe he
wasn’t just out at a bar, trying to find a random fuck. Maybe he already had
his sights set on a woman, someone as beautiful and smart as the blonde
he’d brought home the week we’d arrived. That thought didn’t just make
my stomach churn, it made my blood boil.
“Brie?”
I shrugged, realizing I’d never answered Molly. “I’m trying to figure out
if it’s worth the risk to try out that hot tub.”
She perked up. “I’d go with you.”
I grinned; Erik tempered his anger around Molly since she was a
longtime pupil. It was settled.
We gathered Rosie and Lexi and brought them up to speed on our plan.
Rosie protested, of course, but we insisted Erik wouldn’t care. He’d
specifically given us rules to follow, and not using the hot tub wasn’t part of
that list, ergo, it was free rein.
“I don’t speak Latin!” Rosie said as we dragged her out of the house
after us. “What does ‘ergo’ mean?”
“Hot tubs are meant to be used!” Lexi insisted, whipping off the heavy
plastic top that protected the water when it wasn’t in use. She tossed it
aside, propped her hands on her hips, and looked my way. “Now what?”
I was already shivering in my bikini and I had no clue how to operate a
hot tub. “Look for an on/off switch?”
Molly snapped and offered up a sarcastic, “Stand back everyone, we’ve
got a genius here!”
I flipped her off.
 After a few more minutes of searching, we were no closer to turning on
the hot tub. I reached in to test the water, just to see how cold it would be if
we hopped in before it was heated.
“Oh hell no,” I said, jumping back. “It’s freezing.”
Rosie shook her head. “Someone should call Erik. We should ask for his
permission to use it and he could help us turn it on.”
Three sets of eyes swung in my direction, but I shook my head
adamantly. “No.”
“Yes,” they replied.
“He hates me.”
Lexi reached for where I’d stashed my phone on the ground beside our
towels. “Here.”
His number had been included in the information packet, and before
arriving in Seattle, I’d plugged it into my phone as Coach Winter. I smiled
at how naive I’d been then.
“Do it,” Lexi said, pressing dial for me.
“No!” I protested, but it was too late.
He answered on the first ring and I let his deep voice glide over my skin
for a beat too long.
“Hello?”
I blushed.
“Who is this?”
I’d forgotten he didn’t have my number.
I cleared my throat. “Uh…it’s Brie.”
His subtle groan proved he was less than enthusiastic to hear from me.
“This number is for emergencies.”
His voice faded at the end, like he was pulling the phone away from his
ear to hang up.
 “Wait! This is an emergency.”
He paused, giving me time to continue.
“We’re trying to figure out how to use the hot tub.”
I could hear the slight amusement in his voice when he spoke again.
“And that’s an emergency because…”
“Our muscles are really sore from practice,” I insisted, trying to make it
sound clinical, therapeutic. “The heat and bubbles will help loosen us up.”
“Brie—”
“Oh! I figured it out!” Molly exclaimed just before bubbles started
erupting from the jets.
I smirked, though he couldn’t see it. “Never mind. Molly figured it out.”
There were voices in the background. Music too. I wanted to know what
he was doing, but I didn’t want to seem desperate.
“Have fun on your date,” I added casually.
“I’m not on a date.”
“Oh.” I smiled, butterflies erupting in my stomach.
“You guys have an hour before I get home. Be out of the hot tub before
then.”
“Or what?” I dared.
The line went dead. I glanced down at my phone to see he’d hung up.
Jerk.
“Sorry.” Lexi shrugged. “Guess you didn’t need to call him after all.”
I tossed my phone onto our pile of towels and slid into the hot tub. It
wasn’t hot yet, but it was starting to warm up fast and I was too cold to
care. A few minutes later, we’d all settled into our designated sides, letting
the jets pound against our aching muscles. It felt like heaven.
“Molly, do you and Host Boy fight a lot?” I asked, opening my eyes to
peer over at her. She was as blissed out as I was.
 She blushed at the mention of her crush. “No, not really. He’s super
nice.”
I rolled my eyes, bored.
“My last boyfriend and I fought all the time,” Lexi offered up.
“Really?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, but there was a language barrier there, so most of
it was just miscommunication.”
“Did he ever infuriate you?”
She snorted. “Every day I was with him.”
“But you liked it?” I asked.
“I loved it,” she insisted. “He turned me on like crazy.”
“We heard you shout at Erik last night out front,” Rosie offered,
blushing and glancing away when I met her eye.
“It sounded intense,” Molly added.
“It was nothing.” I shrugged and stared down at the water. “He just gets
under my skin.”
“And under your dress too.”
I punched Lexi in the shoulder.
“Hey!”
“I told you that in confidence.”
She shrugged. “And then I told Molly and Rosie in confidence too. So
now I’m confident we’re all up to speed.”
Molly was smiling, seemingly proud of me for acting on my crush on
Erik, but Rosie was averting eye contact as if uncomfortable with the topic
altogether.
“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” she insisted. “I mean…he is handsome
and I can’t really blame you, but are you sure it’s a good idea? Fooling
around with him?”
 I laughed at her question. “Of course I don’t think it’s a good idea! I
have no clue what I’m doing. For all I know he’s out with another woman
right now. I just…can’t really make myself stay away no matter how much
he infuriates me.”
Lexi waggled her eyebrows. “Because you loooooovveeee him.”
I reached out to punch her arm, but she whipped out of the way before I
could. I groaned and relaxed back against my side of the hot tub, trying to
think of a way to turn the conversation away from Erik and me.
I turned my attention back to Molly. “Did you and Host Boy ever shout
at each other like what you heard last night?”
She grinned. “No. Duncan is really easy to get along with. He’s sweet
and considerate.”
Lexi held up her hand with a bored expression. “Say no more. Clearly,
Molly is into some Full House shit, whereas you and me, Brie, we’re
looking for the kind of love they can’t show on daytime television.”
“That’s not true! Sometimes he kisses me when his parents are home,”
Molly added.
Lexi rolled her eyes. “Real titillating stuff, Molly. Tell us more.”
She crossed her arms to pout, but I nudged her shoulder playfully.
“It’s not that I enjoy arguing with Erik,” I continued, though it felt like a
lie. Is it healthy to want to argue with someone? To get off on it? I sighed
and stared up at the sky to avoid their judgmental stares. “I just can’t decide
if I like him or if I hate him. One minute he drives me insane, and then the
next he’s opening himself up to me. It’s hard to resist his vulnerable side.”
“Well, we have a week until the Olympics,” Lexi said. “I would figure
out if you hate him or not before then.”
I scrunched my brows. “Why?”
 Her smile unfurled, slow and devilish. “Because once you arrive in that
Olympic Village and you see the wealth of athletes Rio has to offer, he
might not be worth the trouble anymore.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN

Erik

“HOW IS YOUR team coming along?” my grandfather asked over the

phone.
It’d been a few days since I’d last talked to him and I knew he was
itching to talk about my father. For now, I was more than happy to discuss
my work.
“They’re doing well, but I’m thinking of doing something different
before we head to Rio.” I wedged the phone between my shoulder and
cheek then leaned over to adjust the stuff sitting on the passenger seat of my
truck. All afternoon, I’d run around like a mad man picking up things I
needed for Rio. A garment bag blocked the window and I resisted the urge
to toss it on the floorboard. My new tailored suit was inside—the one I’d
need for formal events during the games—and though it was taking up too
much room, I didn’t want to ruin it.
“Oh?” my grandfather asked, bringing my attention back to the call.
“What did you have in mind?”
I stared back out to the road. “Just some personalized lessons for them.
Cross-training of sorts. See, they’ve come up in this rigid gymnastics
crucible that standardizes learning, even though they each have unique
deficiencies to address. Like for instance, June moves like a robot on floor
no matter how much I tell her to loosen up. I’m thinking of having her take
a hip hop dance class.”
He chuckled. “Sounds like a good idea. What will you do for Brie
then?”
I gripped the steering wheel, surprised to hear her name from him.
“Brie?”
“Yeah,” he continued. “I was just reading an article about her this
morning. The press is going crazy. First time Olympian slotted to win gold
on every event? It’s all anyone cares to talk about—well, her and that
British swimmer. I think Brie is a bit more interesting though. I love a good
underdog story.”
“Right.”
“So what does she need to help her improve? She looks pretty good
from what I’ve seen.”
“It’s minor, but…she doesn’t trust her body. Gymnastics is more mental
than it is physical, and she’s been psyching herself out over the last few
weeks.”
He sighed. “That’s a shame. Most first-time Olympians don’t know how
to channel the pressure.”
“Exactly.”
“How are you going to help her?”
I smiled and turned my truck up onto the gravel drive. Even from a
distance, I could hear the girls outside in the hot tub. I’d given Brie explicit
instructions to be out of the hot tub before I got home, but she sounded
fairly content breaking the rules.
I ended the call with my grandfather, promising I’d call him in the
morning, and then I killed my engine. I reached to the side and grabbed the
handful of groceries I’d picked up after my suit. Though I wanted to get out
and shout at Brie to get back inside, I knew that wouldn’t end well. I
couldn’t see the girls in the backyard as I unloaded my stuff, but I told
myself I’d give them the benefit of the doubt. If they were out by the time I
finished unloading, then it’d be no harm, no foul.
I hung my suit in my closet and pounded back down the stairs, annoyed
by the high-pitched laughter filtering in from outside. I peeked through the
blinds, spotting Brie right away. The other girls were tilted toward the
guesthouse, but Brie was facing my porch with her arms outstretched across
the top of the hot tub. She was wearing a black bikini top that barely rose
above the water. Her tan skin glowed in the hazy moonlight. She’d piled her
long hair high on the top of her head, but a few pieces had already fallen
out. The strands were wet from the water and stuck to the exposed patch of
cleavage between her breasts.
She threw her head back and laughed at something one of the girls said
and then her gaze flickered to my house. She knew I was home; the gravel
road was loud and my old truck was louder, not to mention my lights were
on throughout the bottom floor. She sat up a little taller, exposing more of
her bikini top as her gaze swept across the bottom floor of my house. If she
knew I was home and she was still in the hot tub, then she wanted to test
me. Perfect. I was in the mood for a fight.
I swiveled on my heels and headed for the breaker box inside the utility
room. It was labeled well: Kitchen, Guest Bath, Master Bath, Patio, and
most importantly, Backyard.
Without hesitation, I flipped the switch and killed the power to the hot
tub and exterior lights. A second later, moans rang out from outside. I
smiled and slammed the breaker box door closed again.
By the time I made it back to the kitchen, Rosie, Molly, and Lexi were
getting out of the hot tub and drying off.
 “I guess it was nice while it lasted,” Molly said with a shrug as she set
off back toward the guesthouse. “Come on, if we hurry we can still watch a
movie or something before we go to sleep.”
“Yeah, better than nothing,” Rosie agreed.
Lexi turned back to the hot tub, where Brie sat immobile. “Are you
coming?”
Her attention was on my house when she nodded, just once. “Yeah, go
ahead. I’ll just be a second.”
They set off without her, whipping open the guesthouse door and
disappearing inside. Brie hadn’t budged from her spot, illuminated by the
light spilling out of my house. She looked angry, though there was no
reason to be. I’d been the one to allow her to use the hot tub; she was one
who couldn’t follow simple directions.
I pulled open the back door and stepped out onto the porch. Her gaze
locked on me immediately. Those brown eyes assessed me with an air of
curiosity, but she still made no move to get out of the water.
“I gave you an hour.”
A gloating smirk overtook her lips. “And I wanted more.”
Of course she did.
“Get out. It’s late.”
“You know I don’t need your permission to sit here. The water’s still
warm and I’m feeling pretty relaxed.”
I walked off the porch and stepped out onto the grass, closer to her than
I should have been. She stood up and water dripped down her skin, rolling
down her chest, stomach, and thighs. Her bikini was nothing, little strings
holding her top up behind her neck and two bows on either side of her hips.
She stood there as I raked my gaze down her body.
 Her breasts were small and perky, enough to fill my hands. Her nipples
were hard beneath her bikini top and goose bumps bloomed across her skin
as she acclimated to the cold night air. Her arms and legs were slender,
toned. Her waist was tiny and I knew it’d be so easy to get a grip on her
there. I wanted to dig my fingers into her waist and take her from behind,
bending her forward over the hot tub.
She cleared her throat and I flicked my gaze away, but it didn’t matter. I
had her body burned to memory. I reached down and grabbed her towel off
the ground, tossing it toward her so she had to catch it fast before it fell into
the water.
She wrapped it around herself and stepped out of the hot tub on my side,
cast in the yellow glow seeping from my windows. The movement brought
her just feet away from me, hardly enough distance to keep her safe.
“Cover up,” I demanded, annoyed with how quickly I was losing self-
control.
Her brow arched. “Why? Is it hard for you to see me like this?”
She tilted her head, waiting for my answer, but I wouldn’t give her a
single fucking word.
Her smile widened and I swore I could see the wheels in her head
turning as she thought of how she’d torture me next. I thought once I gave
her the towel, she’d beg off and head inside, too nervous to take the game to
the next level.
I was wrong.
She reached up to pull the string behind her neck, then her hands
slipped inside her towel, working on the string behind her back. She was
removing her bikini top so she could dry her skin and I couldn’t open my
mouth to force her to stop.
 The black material fell to the ground beneath her feet and then her towel
dropped after it. She stood there topless, shrouded in darkness, hidden from
the guesthouse. She was wearing the most devilish smirk I’d ever seen. My
hands fisted by my sides as she reached up and felt her skin, dragging the
palm of her hand over her stomach until she reached her right breast.
“How long has it been since you touched me?” She answered the
question herself. “Nearly a week? God, you must be going crazy.”
She was so fucking sure of herself, like she’d done this a million times.
I wouldn’t call her bluff; I didn’t need to. I knew if I stepped closer, I’d feel
how shaky her hand was.
She liked my attention; she wanted to show me everything I couldn’t have,
and though I should have walked away, I stood immobile. My breaths were
coming heavy and my fists were clenched to my sides, aching to reach out
and stroke her breasts as she pushed her palm down, down, down, right to
the spot between her legs. I wanted to lean forward and cup her breasts, roll
my thumb over her nipples until her mouth fell open and she begged for me.
She hadn’t done a good enough job; she didn’t know how to make herself
moan the way I could.
Fuck.
She was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen and I was so turned on, my dick
strained against my jeans.
Her hand dipped into the bottom of her bikini and she dragged it back
and forth, rocking herself against her palm. Her bikini bottom fell another
inch down her legs and I knew she was about to strip for me, bare herself
completely.
“Remember what I said the other day?” she asked, sling-shotting me
back to reality. “About you touching me?”
Brie wasn’t stripping for me, she was taunting me, teasing me.
 She took two steps toward me and pulled her hand out of her bikini
bottom. She pressed up onto her tiptoes, rubbing her naked breasts against
my chest, and I resisted a moan.
“I still mean it,” she snapped with a little laugh.
The brat assumed she’d won. She’d gotten me hard—she’d felt it when
she brushed herself up against me—and now she was backing off, slinking
back to the safety of the guesthouse.
She stepped back, reaching for the towel on the ground, but I reached
out and gripped her arm, hard enough that she couldn’t pull it away when
she tried.
Her eyes blazed as she whipped around. “Let me go.”
I pulled her in, just as close as she’d been a second before. I tilted down,
dragging my lips up her neck as my other hand found the wet spot between
her legs. I could have made her come with a single swipe of my finger, but I
didn’t move, didn’t give her the satisfaction.
She bared her teeth, trying to yank her arm free.
“Get off me.”
I smirked and reached up to grip her chin, her wetness still on the tip of
my finger. Slowly—slow enough that I watched her eyes close with need—
I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips. I thought she’d bite me, but
her lips were soft and receptive. She moaned into my mouth, leaning herself
into me, needing more. She wanted it just as badly as I did, but I pulled
back, breaking the kiss off with an angry growl. Then I let her go and she
stumbled back in the grass, eyes wide, lips swollen.
“Tease me like that again and I’ll make sure you regret it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY

Brie

I WAS PLAYING with fire—no, I wasn’t just playing with fire; I was
rolling in it. I was so confident I wouldn’t get burned, I didn’t realize how
deep into the flames I’d fallen. The night before had been meant to be a
joke, a dare. I’d stayed in the hot tub longer than anyone else because I’d
wanted Erik to come and kick me out. I’d wanted to make sure he wasn’t
lying about his date and I’d wanted to see the look on his face when I defied
him.
Provoking him entertained me. On normal days, he was the image of
stoicism, but when I pissed him off, his bright blue eyes smoldered. His
strong jaw tightened. His muscles coiled with anger and I loved it. I craved
it. It was the only time I got a real emotion out of him, and even if it was
hate, it was better than nothing.
The moment he’d released me from his hold, I’d run back inside the
guesthouse and locked the door behind me. Why? Had I honestly thought
he’d follow me inside and deliver on his sensual promise? His words had
been so twisted, so dark, and he knew the way they affected me. He’d felt
the way they ignited me.
A blush spread up over my cheeks as fire overtook my veins. I tried to
adjust in my seat to help ease the tension building between my thighs, but it
was no use. Even after a night of restless sleep, I couldn’t get the feel of
him out of my head. When I’d brushed up against him wearing nothing but
my bikini bottoms, I’d felt his size. He’d nearly eclipsed me with his
massive shoulders and hard chest. His hands had wrapped around my arms
so tightly it nearly hurt—nearly being the key word, because that was the
thing with Erik: he knew just how far to go. He knew what I wanted, even if
I hadn’t yet admitted it to myself.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Molly asked, nudging my
shoulder.
We were in the back seat of the Jeep, heading to the gym for practice.
June sat on the other side of Molly with her headphones in place, tuning us
out. Lexi was driving like a madwoman, and Rosie sat next to her up front,
trying to ignore Lexi’s “sexual lesson of the day”, as Molly and I had
dubbed them.
I shook my head and brushed Molly off, too aware of June listening in
on the other side. Her music wasn’t that loud; she could have easily heard
every word I said. Does it matter though? She’d probably seen my little
display by the hot tub last night.
There it was again.
The fire.
I inhaled a shaky breath and turned toward the window, trying to get a
grip on my fantasies before we pulled up to the gym. Practice would be hell
otherwise.
“So most girls forget about the balls,” Lexi said from the front seat. “If
you want to know the difference between a good blowjob and a great
blowjob, just go ahead and cup those bad boys. Keep ’em warm. Don’t let
the shaft get all the spotlight.”
I stifled a laugh.
 Rosie fidgeted in her seat. “It’s okay. I don’t really need to know…I
mean, I can’t imagine wanting to—”
Lexi held up her hand to stop her. “Oh please. I used to think the same
thing—blowjobs are misogynistic, blah blah blah, NPR—but believe me,
oral isn’t about feminism, it’s about driving each other wild.”
Molly shook her head. “So what do you do after you, uh, cup them?”
Lexi smirked. “It’s up to you, but when I really like a guy, I’ll lick my
thumb—”
Rosie turned the dial on the radio up loud so Lexi’s last words were cut
off.
Lexi turned it back down. “—and at the last second I’ll stick it right in
his—”
Rosie flipped the dial up so loud I had to hold my hands up to cover my
ears.
June yanked her headphones off. “Jesus! What are you guys doing? Just
leave the radio alone.”
“Speaking of tight-asses, no one asked for your input, June,” Lexi said,
eyeing her in the rearview mirror. “You can go back to ignoring us.”
Fortunately, the gym came into view over the horizon before June could
escalate the situation. Lexi whipped into a parking spot, not even close to
being in the lines. June hopped out and ran for the door, and the four of us
sat in silence for a second, absorbing the last few seconds.
“Do you think we should ease up on her?” Rosie asked, turning back to
stare at Molly and me in the back seat.
“How can we?” Lexi asked. “She’s the one being a twat.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, we’re not exactly going out of our way to be
nice to her either.”
 Molly nodded. “I think we should try harder to include her. Maybe she
thinks we don’t want to be friends with her.”
“Not after what she pulled on Brie!” Lexi argued. “Of course we don’t
want to be friends with her!”
I frowned and shook my head. Something told me not to count June out.
Sure, she wasn’t the nicest girl I’d ever been around, but she was stressed
and away from home with no one to lean on.
“I think we should ease up on her as well.”
Rosie clapped from the front seat excitedly. “Maybe we could do
something fun to make her feel included!”
Lexi eyes widened. “Should we take her to a strip club?”
“No.”
“Gentlemen’s club?”
“Definitely not,” I insisted.
“You’re right.” She clapped. “We bring the strippers to us.”
I groaned. “No strippers, Lexi.”
Rosie perked up and clapped excitedly. “When I was younger, the older
girls in our gym kidnapped us from our houses in the middle of the night
and took us to IHOP.” She beamed. “All-you-can-eat pancakes.”
Lexi leveled her with a glare. “How has life failed you so miserably?”
“It was fun,” she said, defending herself. “I had whipped cream on
mine.”
Oh Rosie.
Molly held up her hands to cut the two of them off. “Okay, how about
instead of some crazy plan, let’s just try to talk to her a little more, maybe
offer her a smile every now and then, yeah?”
Lexi groaned as she hopped out of the driver’s seat. “Suit yourself,
losers. Keep your bottomless pancakes. I would have picked bottomless
strippers.”

I TOSSED MY t-shirt and shorts into my bag and rooted around for my
pre-wrap and athletic tape. The rest of my team was already set up on floor,
stretching and slowly easing into practice. I hadn’t seen Erik on my way
into the gym, but he was there now, talking to the girls as I approached. I
wanted to pretend as if it didn’t matter, but there was no denying the jolt of
excitement that shot through me at the sight of him.
Even as he stood talking to Rosie, my body begged me closer, but then
he broke out in a smile—a real, wide grin he’d never once used on me. A
dark thought spiraled through me. It’s not that I thought for one second he
might be attracted to Rosie, but maybe he liked that type of woman. She
didn’t talk back, she called him sir, she finished her workouts on time, and
she smiled politely every chance she got.
What an easy life he’d have with a woman like Rosie: no fights, no
games, no war—just obedience. My stomach twisted at the thought as I
stepped up onto the floor and crossed the white boundary taped around the
perimeter. I chanced a quick glance at Erik as I approached the group, but
he was still talking to Rosie. It was like he wasn’t even aware of the fact
that I’d joined the group.
My stomach ached as I took a seat beside Lexi. She tried to meet my
eye, but I ignored her, busying myself with finding the start to my roll of
pre-wrap.
“Here,” Erik said, startling me.
When did he come over here?
 He didn’t wait for me to hand him the tape, just reached down and
grabbed for it, brushing the back of his hand along my thigh with the effort.
“Let me do it,” he insisted.
My mouth went dry as I handed off the pre-wrap and a barrage of
memories flooded in at once: his finger between my legs, his tongue gliding
across my lips, his hard cock pressed against my stomach beneath his jeans.
He was acting casual, but less than ten hours earlier, we’d nearly attacked
each other in his backyard. I mean, I stripped for him for God’s sake. My
entire body blushed from head to toe and I turned away, trying to hide my
red cheeks against my shoulder as he bent down in front of me.
He reached out and pulled my foot to him like he owned the damn
thing. I shivered at his touch as he gripped my ankle, but I’d be damned if
he saw me blushing. I bent my other leg to my chest and folded my arms
around it, glancing to Lexi for a distraction. She was smiling, flitting her
gaze back and forth between Erik and me. I narrowed my eyes, trying to
convey how much I hated her in that moment.
“Flex,” Erik said, gripping the arch of my foot in his palm. My body
pooled with warmth as his thumb dragged across my sole. Why. Why. Why.
He was touching my foot! Last I checked, my vagina was somewhere
between my hips and thighs.
“Before we get started today, I have two things to announce,” Erik said,
glancing over his shoulder to the rest of the team while he continued
wrapping my ankle in yellow pre-wrap. I needed him to hurry up or I was
going to spontaneously combust.
“We’re leaving for Rio two days early.”
My eyes widened.
“What?!” Lexi asked. “Why?”
“The Olympic Committee wants us there for press.”
 My heart pounded. No. We were supposed to have another full week in
Seattle before we left. How is this possible? June and Rosie shook their
heads, just as distraught by the news as I was.
“Calm down,” Erik said, tossing my pre-wrap aside with a touch too
much aggression. “It’s two days. We still have plenty of time to train, and
even if we didn’t, every single one of you is ready to compete.”
He turned back to my ankle and propped it up on his thigh so he could
use both hands to wrap the white athletic tape around it. Is having my ankle
on his thigh supposed to be intimate? Because it’s making me sweat.
Suddenly, I felt like leaving for Rio as soon as possible, just to get some
space.
“I’ve been very impressed with everyone’s skills, conditioning, strength
—your hardware,” he said. “But that’s only half the battle. What I’d like to
see you work on is your software, your mental toughness, so I’ve drawn up
some unorthodox training schedules for these last few days before we
leave.”
We sat in silence, waiting for him to continue. Surely he wouldn’t do
anything too torturous to us this close to our departure. Right?
“Well?” Lexi interrupted. “What is it?”
“I’ve identified something unique you each need to work on.” He tilted
his head to June. “I’ve been telling you for the last few weeks you’re too
stiff on floor, so I’ve signed you up for two hip hop dance classes before we
leave.”
June’s eyes nearly fell out of her skull. “Hip hop? No! That’ll mess up
my choreography.”
“It’s not optional,” he replied with a hard stare before turning his gaze
to Molly and Rosie.
“You two will be taking a boxing lesson.”
 Rosie’s eyes widened. “Boxing?”
“You’re both too timid on vault, like you’re afraid you’re going to get
hit. So, I want you to get to do the hitting and build some confidence.” At
Rosie’s wide eyes, he continued, “Don’t worry, you’ll have a trainer who
knows you’re both competing soon. Injury prevention is key.”
Both of them nodded, glancing to one another with excitement once
they realized it wouldn’t be too bad.
“What about me, Coach?” Lexi said, waggling her brows.
“Ballet.”
Her face fell. “Ballet? That’s not really my thing.”
“Exactly. I think a ballet class will balance you out. A little grace never
hurt anyone.”
She mumbled under her breath as Erik’s gaze turned back to me. The
weight of his attention was almost too much to bear. I wanted to turn away
or glance down, but I held his piercing gaze and tried not to cower. My lips
were dry, but I didn’t lick them; I didn’t want him to think I was inviting
him to kiss me or something. Instead, I locked my arms tighter around my
knee as he spoke.
“Brie, will be taking a yoga class.”
I furrowed my brow. Yoga? What was that supposed to teach me? How
to become one with my chakras?
“Sounds good,” I said, turning away just as he finished wrapping my
ankle.
“No argument?” he asked, standing to tower over me. He tossed the tape
down and it rolled against my thigh.
I smiled a private smile and shook my head. “I could use the peace and
quiet. Last night kind of wore me out.”
There.
 It was out.
If he wouldn’t bring up the previous night, then I would.
A devilish smirk was the only reply I needed. He most definitely
remembered. Even if he was putting on a show for everyone else, there was
still a war waging on inside him.
Good.
It only seemed fair that we were both going insane.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Brie

SLEEP BECAME ELUSIVE those last few days before Rio. I’d stay up
late, switching positions and telling my body I was comfortable, and then
I’d wake up at the crack of dawn feeling as if I hadn’t slept at all. My
mother called often, more nervous than ever, but I screened them, opting for
replies through text messages whenever I could.
I didn’t want her to know I was starting to crack, and I knew one word
spoken over the phone was all it would take for her to know the truth. She
would insist I was carrying too much weight on my shoulders, that I needed
to relax and have fun. All the while, I’d have to ignore how tired her voice
sounded, ignore the shrieking babies and blasting car horns from around the
apartment complex. My mother was hopelessly compassionate; it was why
she’d gotten into social work in the first place. It definitely wasn’t for the
money. She wanted to be someone’s voice when they were beaten down,
lost, forgotten—but now it was my turn to stand up for her. She deserved a
better life and I wouldn’t let myself rest until I gave it to her.
Birds chirped through our bedroom window and I stretched my arms
overhead, staring up at the bottom of Molly’s bunk. She was still snoring
softly, lost in sleep. For a moment, I tried to will myself back to sleep as
well, but I knew it was no use. Instead, I pushed the blankets aside and got
up out of bed. Usually, I’d throw on my sneakers and go on a run, but we’d
had a hard workout the day before and I knew we’d have another one later.
Instead, I padded down the stairs in search of my favorite distraction:
baking.
I pulled a few ingredients from the cupboard and carefully set them up
in a line. Without an oven, I didn’t have many choices: no-bake peanut
butter cookies or some fresh granola. I sighed. Neither of those would
satisfy my baking bug. I wanted to slip something into the oven and wait for
the delicious smell of rising bread to fill the air. It was like an adult security
blanket.
I thought about sneaking into Erik’s kitchen again, but I’d kept my
distance from him the last few days. Safer that way. Still, I needed an oven,
and his was only a few yards away.
I pulled my phone closer to me on the counter and pulled up his
number, opting for a benign text over a more invasive phone call.

Brie: Hello. May I please use your oven?

There. He couldn’t say no to me when I asked that politely. I nearly

jumped when he replied a minute later.

Erik: I’m out on the trail. You have an hour. Clean up after.

I rolled my eyes. He didn’t need to say that. I’d cleaned up his entire
kitchen the first time, even reorganizing his spice drawer so it made more
sense. Had he thanked me? No.
With a giddy smile, I swept up my ingredients in my arms and headed
for his house. An hour of uninterrupted kitchen time sounded heavenly. I
could put some music on and whip up anything I wanted. Croissants?
Scones? Quiche? I got lost in the possibilities as I pushed open his kitchen
door. For a moment, I paused, bracing myself for his presence even though
I knew he was gone. The house was quiet and clean. I smiled at the big
kitchen island, bare and begging for my use.
Last time, it’d taken me nearly an hour just to find all the equipment in
his kitchen. I’d had to hunt down his muffin tins and scrape away rust from
his whisk. This time, everything was exactly where I’d left it. I put on a
playlist and started swaying my hips as I pulled out his mixing bowls and
baking sheets.
I was lost in the calm of the kitchen when his phone rang on the kitchen
wall. It was one of those old wall-mounted phones that were a staple in 90s
TV shows. The ring was loud, vibrating the headset against its base. I
paused my music and listened to it ring, wondering if an answering machine
would pick up after.
It rang four more times and then it went silent.
I frowned and got back to work, making a mental note to let Erik know
someone had called. There probably weren’t many people with the number
to his landline; I couldn’t imagine he gave it out very often.
I cracked three eggs into a large mixing bowl and then added a touch of
vanilla extract and milk. I reached for the whisk, ready to whip the wet
ingredients together, but the phone started ringing again. It seemed even
louder this time, as if annoyed I’d ignored it the first time.
I stared over at it as it rattled on the wall.
RING. RING. RING.
Whoever was trying to reach him wasn’t going to give up. I glanced out
to the driveway, praying I’d find Erik home early, but he was nowhere to be
found and the ringing wouldn’t stop. I sighed and reached for it, wedging it
in the groove between my shoulder and ear as I started whisking the
ingredients in the bowl.
“Uh…hello,” I said into the receiver, unsure of what I should say. “Erik
Winter’s residence.”
“Hello?”
“Hi,” I tried again. “Can you hear me?”
The voice on the other end of the line chuckled, low and raspy.
“Of course I can, I’m just surprised. May I ask, with whom do I have
the pleasure of speaking?”
The man sounded much older than Erik and I braced myself, hoping it
wasn’t his father.
“Brie Watson. I’m one of Erik’s—”
“Ah, the gymnast! Brie. Hello!”
I scrunched my brows together and pulled the phone away from my ear,
realizing a second too late that the old style phone didn’t have caller ID.
“Who is this?” I asked hesitantly.
“Niklas Winter.” I could hear a broad smile in his voice. “I’m Erik’s
grandfather.”
“O-oh,” I stammered. “I’m sorry, Erik isn’t home right now. He went on
a run, but I could leave a message for him?”
“The boy gets enough messages from me. I would much rather talk to
the girl that is answering his phone so early in the morning.” He laughed.
My gaze took in the ingredients spread out in front of me. “It’s not what
you think! Your grandson didn’t give us an oven, so I had to beg to use his.”
He chuckled. “What a miser! Tell me he’s given you a toilet, at least.”
I smiled. “Thankfully, yes. But…maybe you can talk some sense into
him…”
 I’m not sure how it happened—and if I had to repeat our conversation, I
wouldn’t be able to—but for the next hour, I whipped around the kitchen,
adding ingredients and slipping things into the oven while I spoke to Erik’s
grandfather. He told me where he lived in Sweden, that he had goats and
cows on his property, and that recently, a new neighbor had moved in across
the street.
“Is he friendly?”
“It is a she, as luck would have it.” I hummed, encouraging him to
continue. “And I haven’t the slightest clue as to her nature, since I haven’t
introduced myself yet.”
All men around the world must be the same. I wondered how many
great romances over the millennia had never come to fruition because of
male shyness.
“You should,” I said, measuring out a volume of sugar. “Ask to borrow
a cup of sugar.”
“What is it with Americans and sugar?” he bellowed, laughing deeply.
“Erik suggested the same thing. You’d think there was a shortage!”
I smiled.
“Do you think she’s married?”
“I’m not sure. She lives alone.”
“How do you know that if you haven’t introduced yourself?”
He stammered. “W-well, my dog enjoys sniffing her azaleas. Sometimes
he lingers there and I sort of—”
“You spy on her!” I filled in for him.
“No, no, not spying. Observing.”
“Well if you won’t ask for sugar, you should offer it. You could take her
some cookies or something.”
“Cookies?”
 “Yes. Cookies. Or meatballs. Don’t they have those in Sweden?”
I was teasing him, but he didn’t mind. We’d become fast friends.
“I guess I could pick up some cookies at the shop around the corner.
They have these buttery ones I like.”
I frowned. “You should make them yourself. She’d like that.”
He tutted. “I haven’t used the oven in ages. I doubt they’d turn out
edible.”
“What is it with you and your grandson? Does everyone in your family
have something against kitchens?”
As if on cue, the door to the kitchen opened and the devil himself
strolled inside, t-shirt stuck to his broad chest, sweat dripping down his
biceps. He was breathing hard and eyeing me with a furrowed brow as he
dropped his cell phone on the kitchen counter. He was in pursuit of water, I
think, when he caught sight of his house phone against my ear and paused.
“Time’s up,” he said, still catching his breath. “Wait, who are you
talking to?”
“I have no idea how to bake, of course,” his grandfather admitted,
continuing on with our conversation, oblivious to the tornado that had just
rolled inside on my end of the line. “I think I’ve got a dusty recipe book
lying around somewhere.”
“Brie.” Erik sliced across the kitchen, trying to pry the phone from my
hand. “Hang up.”
“Is that Erik?” Niklas asked, happy to hear trickles of his grandson’s
voice through the receiver.
“Yes. He just got home.” I turned and held a finger up to Erik. His eyes
widened in shock and I knew I had a minute, maybe two before he went off
the rails.
“Well I suppose you should put him on, and I’ll ask for his opin—”
 A loud dial tone cut off his sentence and when I turned, I saw Erik
standing at the wall with his hand covering the wall mount, having ended
the call for me.
“Are you kidding me?” I asked, tossing the phone at him. He caught it
without trouble and dropped it back onto the mount with a flick of his wrist.
“Now he’s going to think I hung up on him.”
“Why were you talking to my grandfather?”
I turned back to the oven and bent to check on the croissants.
Fortunately, they looked done.
“The phone kept ringing while you were gone and I wanted to make
sure it wasn’t an emergency.”
“And then what?”
I opened the oven door and pulled out the croissants. They smelled
divine, warm and flaky and golden brown.
“Brie,” Erik demanded, pissed that I was ignoring him.
“And then I talked to him.” I turned to shoot him a glare over my
shoulder. “I don’t understand what the big deal is. Unlike you, he seems to
actually like me.”
The phone rang again, piercing the silence with its shrill sound. Erik
groaned and pulled it off the wall. I didn’t have to listen long to know it was
his grandfather calling back.
“No. I can’t put her back on,” Erik answered, turning toward the mount.
“She’s just leaving.”
I hid my smile.
“I’m not kicking her out. She has to go get ready for practice. She’s an
Olympian, remember? It’s what they do.”
With my back turned to Erik, I slid the croissants onto a platter, plated a
few for him (though he didn’t deserve their flaky goodness), then scrubbed
the dirty dishes in the sink with lightning speed. Erik wanted me out of his
space and I didn’t want to lose oven privileges—though by his reaction, I
feared taking his grandfather’s call had already ruined any chances of him
letting me back into his house any time this century. With the supplies
gathered into my arms supporting a precarious croissant tower on top, I
rushed out of his kitchen as fast as I could.
He was still speaking on the phone as I slipped outside. I walked slowly
back to the guesthouse, realizing that before he’d stormed in and ruined it,
I’d had a very relaxing morning. Talking to his grandfather while I baked
had helped clear my head, and best of all, I still had an hour before practice
—plenty of time to sit and enjoy the fruits (carbs) of my labor over a cup of
coffee.

LATER THAT NIGHT, while I was brushing my teeth and getting ready
for bed, Lexi knocked on my bathroom door and told me I had a package
waiting for me out on the front porch. I scrunched my eyebrows, confused.
I wasn’t expecting anything from my mom. She had the address to Erik’s
house, but that was really only so she would be able to point investigators to
the most likely location of my body after Erik killed me.
I finished brushing my teeth before heading down the stairs two at a
time. Even if it wasn’t much, the idea that I had mail was too exciting to
resist.
I whipped the door open and glanced down, my smile slowly fading as a
pink and white box came into focus at my feet.
Easy-Bake Oven was printed across the side of the box in pink cursive.
“What the—”
 I leaned forward and ripped off the yellow post-it note stuck to the top.
Stay out of my house was scrawled out in thick black Sharpie.
I looked up at Erik’s house, prepared to march over and throw the Easy-
Bake Oven at his head, but then I caught sight of him in his kitchen. He was
sitting at the island, hunched over a paperback, reading. One of my
croissants was in his hand and I watched as he brought it to his mouth and
took a giant bite before turning the page. Bastard.
I looked back down at the pitiful play-oven. It looked like revenge, if
any was to be had, would at best be served half cooked and chewy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Erik

IN THE LAST two days, my grandfather had called three times looking for
Brie. He pretended like he didn’t mind talking to me, but he wasn’t fooling
anyone. Ten minutes in, after I’d pushed away talk of my father or the
impending Olympics, he’d move the conversation on to his next favorite
topic: Brie.
“She seems really nice.”
She’s not.
“She was going to send me a recipe. Will you get it from her?”
No.
“I took a picture of my garden. Could you pass it along to her?”
Yeah, let me get right on that.
The morning after I’d dumped the Easy-Bake Oven on the guesthouse
porch, I’d walked out of my front door and nearly tripped on the box on the
way to my truck. She’d returned it with a butter knife sticking through the
side, and despite myself, I smiled.
I wasn’t an asshole with everyone in my life, but Brie pushed my
buttons like no one had before. If I gave her an inch, she took a mile. An
hour spent in my kitchen and she was answering my phone and laying claim
to my personal life. My grandfather was off limits. My home was off limits.
Brie needed to learn that I had boundaries. She couldn’t bulldoze through
the rules I’d set out for her and expect me to be okay with it. For the next
few days, I kept my distance as much as possible, trying to redefine my
personal space and ensure she was far, far away from it. I ran the trail
before she woke up and didn’t spare her an extra glance unless she was
working through a routine. Even then, I watched her as a coach would
watch a gymnast.
At practice that day, she walked up and mounted the beam, nailing the
Mitchell turn that would help contribute to her high start value in Rio. Her
tight, slender body was made for the balance beam. She used her flexibility
to her advantage, performing skills most gymnasts would never even try.
She bent forward and touched her hands to the beam for a standing split,
tipping her leg another inch higher in the air and then dropping it low to
continue her choreography.
“Good.”
She reacted to my voice, stilling for a moment; she hadn’t realized I was
watching her. She recovered quickly, flipping forward into an Arabian,
landing, and connecting it to a wolf jump. Her body was constantly in
motion. Her toned arms stretched overhead, and I watched her chest rise
and fall under her blue leotard. Her back arched and her knees bent as she
propelled herself into a back handspring-layout-layout. She was light on her
feet, barely touching the beam between skills. She landed gracefully on the
other side and a small triumphant smile dotted her lips. Then, she was off,
slipping easily into the next skill.
It’d been weeks since she’d arrived in Seattle and her beauty on beam
still never ceased to amaze me. I’d never watched someone like her before.
Her long legs were mesmerizing and when she dismounted, stuck her
landing, and looked to me for direction, I realized I had nothing to say. I
was speechless.
I swallowed and turned without a word. She didn’t need my praise; that
confident smile said it all. She and I both knew there was a pile of gold
medals waiting for her in Rio.
“That’s it!?” she called as I walked away. “No critiques?”
I ignored her and kept walking so she wouldn’t see the smile I couldn’t
stifle.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Brie

THE MORE ERIK ignored me, the more intensely I craved his attention. I
didn’t know if it was the hot tub incident or the phone call with his
grandfather, but the last few days leading up to Rio, he didn’t just overlook
me, he seemed to have forgotten I even existed. I stole glances at him in the
gym, expecting to find him staring back at me, pining as much as I was, but
that wasn’t the case.
I’d had plenty of time to think about it (considering we hadn’t fought in
days), and I decided he knew exactly what he was doing. He was treating
me like I was just one of the girls on the team. He split his time evenly
between us, not giving me a minute more, and that was the root of the
problem. Had he been neglecting my training or ignoring my questions, I
could have called him out and demanded he give me equal treatment—but
no. He watched my routines and critiqued us all with cold indifference. It
was driving me fucking insane.
He’d seen me naked! I’d baked him croissants! I’d endeared myself to
his extended family! It wasn’t fair that I was the only one boiling up inside.
I needed to know I wasn’t alone. I needed one sign that he cared, something
that told me he hadn’t completely forgotten about me, something I could
hold on to in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep and visions of
him hot and sweaty after his run replayed in my mind.
“Seems like you and Erik have worked out your differences,” Molly
said, kicking her feet up on the coffee table beside me. “Just in time, too,
considering we leave for Rio in two days.”
I shrugged.
“I mean, he’s been acting normal in the gym,” she continued. “No fire
and brimstone.”
I closed my eyes and let my head fall back against the top of the couch.
Was it so wrong that I craved his cruelty? His tongue lashed like a whip
when he was angry and yelling, but I’d grown to like the pain, if only to
serve as proof that I stood apart in some way to him.
“Where are the other girls?” I asked, aware of how quiet it was in the
house.
“Rosie is on the phone with her parents and Lexi is out taking her ballet
class.”
I nodded. “Where’s June?”
“Up in her room, I think.”
A knock sounded on the front door.
“Not it!” I exclaimed.
Molly groaned and tossed her ice pack onto the coffee table before
standing to answer the door. I figured it was Lexi, home from ballet, but
then I heard Erik’s deep voice on the other side of the threshold.
“Tell Brie to dress for yoga and meet me out front in five minutes.”
She turned to glance at me over her shoulder. “Uh, Brie…”
“I heard him.”
I was conflicted. I’d just finished dinner and had been working up the
energy to head up, shower, and slip into my pajamas. I was exhausted from
practice and the last thing I wanted to do was take a stupid yoga class, but
I’d spent the last hour whining to myself about getting individual attention
and now it was staring me in the face.
I pushed off the couch, ignored my aching muscles, and took the stairs
two at a time. Most of my clothes were already packed for Rio, but I pulled
out a black sports bra that matched my favorite pair of yoga pants. The
straps were thin and crisscrossed over my shoulder blades, offering just
enough support that I didn’t need to pair it with a tank top. I tossed my wild
hair into a braid and didn’t even bother glancing in the mirror. I wasn’t
trying to win any pageants.
I tossed a t-shirt on for the ride over and then trotted back down the
stairs. Molly was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone.
“Good luck,” she called as I pulled the door open.
“If I’m not back in an hour, call the cops.”
She laughed as I stepped out onto the porch. Erik was sitting in the
driver’s seat of his truck, waiting for me with his gaze focused out through
the windshield. I took in his profile, inhaling the smooth skin across his
hard jaw. There’d been stubble there in the gym earlier, and for some reason
the fact that he’d shaved since then sent a shiver down my spine.
He didn’t offer any greeting when I slid into the passenger side; he just
shifted into drive and pulled away from the guesthouse.
“I could have called for a ride,” I said, chancing a glance in his
direction.
His brows were tugged together in thought, but he didn’t offer any
response.
“…or I could have waited for Lexi to get back with the Jeep,” I
continued.
Silence filled the cab of the truck. Clearly, he didn’t feel like talking.
 “What a pleasant chauffeur I have today.”
I crossed my arms and stared out the passenger side window. Erik,
meanwhile, sat like a brooding statue. I’d straddled him right where he sat,
on that seat. I’d felt how hard he was. How can so much have changed
since then?
The yoga studio he picked for me was down the street from Seattle
Flyers and when we pulled in, Erik parked beside the only other car left in
the lot. I wanted to ask where the other people for the class were, but he
wouldn’t have answered me anyway. I followed him into the small building,
immediately hit with the smell of lavender coming from the diffuser on the
check-in desk.
Behind the counter, a brunette sat working on her laptop. When she
noticed us walk in, a wide smile spread across her full lips.
“Erik!”
Oh boy, she was really glad to see Erik—so glad, in fact, she pushed off
her stool and rounded the counter to wrap him in a tight hug. Surprisingly,
he didn’t pull away. He’d hug her, but he couldn’t even talk to me. Very
mature. When she pulled away, she kept her hand on his arm as she turned
her gaze to me. Her beauty punched me in the gut.
“You must be Brie! I’m so honored to meet you. I’m Kira.”
There was no sense of annoyance as she reached out to hug me as well.
She obviously wasn’t threatened by my presence as much as I was by hers.
She oozed sensuality. Though she was tall and toned, there were still curves
to her—and I mean curves. Her black tank top was tight, doing a wonderful
job of enhancing her already killer body, and her legs went on for days. Her
long brown hair hung over one shoulder, but as she directed us to the
cubbies beside the studio room where we could stash our shoes, she swung
it into a loose bun on the top of her head. A small tattoo came into view on
the back of her neck. The thin calligraphy ran down her spine, disappearing
beneath her tank top, and I had the sudden urge to pull her top down to see
where it led. Jesus. If Erik wasn’t planning on going home with her, I was.
“Just slip your shoes off and then head into the studio,” she said with a
smile. “I’ll bring in your mats.”
I furrowed my brows. “Mats? As in two?”
She laughed, flitting her dark gaze to Erik and then back to me. “I
convinced your coach to take the class with you. Private lessons can make it
hard to relax, and I have a feeling Erik could use an hour of yoga just as
much as you.”
That wasn’t part of the plan. He was just supposed to drop me off and
then leave.
“So you’re staying?” I asked him, curious.
He shrugged but kicked off his shoes, giving me all the answer I
needed.
I glanced back to Kira. “Well I hope your class is going to be extra
relaxing.” I winked. “I don’t think I could open his chakras with a crowbar.”
She laughed, a light sound that filled the small room. “Seems she knows
you pretty well already, Erik.”
He shook his head. “Hardly.”
His response might as well have been a slap to the face. My cheeks
flushed with embarrassment as his hand hit my lower back. He pushed me
in the direction of the studio, not as a form of connection, but because he
genuinely wanted me out of his way. Brilliant. This will be so fun.
The studio was dim, lit with twinkle lights around the perimeter of the
room. Of the four walls, two were completely covered in mirrors, one was
painted black, and the other had floor-to-ceiling windows leading out to the
street. Loose, sheer curtains hung over the windows, hiding us away.
 “Wow, it’s hot,” I said, pulling my shirt away from my skin to get some
airflow.
“It’s a heated studio,” he said, meeting my eye in the mirrors. “It should
be over 90 in here.”
“90 degrees?” I groaned as I headed for the set of cubbies lining the
black wall. I pulled my t-shirt overhead and wrapped my silenced cell
phone inside it. When I turned, Erik was accepting a black mat from Kira.
He unrolled it in the center of the room and Kira dropped the one for me
a foot away from it.
“You should probably give him more space than that,” I said, walking
toward them.
She laughed. “This is good. I prefer students to feel the energy around
them. You’ll hear each other’s breaths and it will help each of you in your
own practice.”
I was pretty sure the lavender essential oils had gone to her head. I’d
never be able to relax with Erik that close to me.
And that was before he took his shirt off.
Which he did.
While I watched his reflection in the mirrors.
His tight muscles coiled and stretched across his back as he stuffed his
shirt into the cubby beside mine. When he glanced over and noticed me
watching him, I pulled my gaze away so quickly I nearly pulled a muscle in
my neck.
Kira told us we’d start our practice at the top of our mats with our hands
by our sides and our eyes closed.
She hit play and soft music started streaming through speakers around
the room.
 “I want you both to take a big breath and hold it in…” She walked
around us, floating around the room so that with my eyes closed, I could
never be quite sure where she stood. “Suck in a little more breath and then
slowly exhale.”
I followed her instructions, aware of Erik’s breath beside mine. I
stretched my arms out wider and bumped into his hand. He moved away
faster than I could.
“The point of this practice is for you to learn to trust your body. Usually
in yoga, we keep our eyes open while we work through flows, but today,
I’m going to challenge both of you to keep your eyes closed as much as
possible.”
She led us through another set of breathing exercises, and I felt woozy
standing at the top of my mat. With my eyes closed, I was disoriented. The
heat was already getting to me and we hadn’t even started. That’s a good
sign.
“Brie, you know how to use your body. It’s powerful and strong and
beautiful, but if you don’t trust it, then all of that goes to waste,” she
continued. “Inhale again and slowly fold over to touch your toes, keeping
your eyes closed.”
She walked around us. I could hear her feet on the soft floor as she
stepped up and slid her hand down my spine. I kept my eyes closed as
goose bumps bloomed down my arms. She massaged my muscles, soothing
the pain she was causing by pushing my chest closer to my shins.
“Good Brie,” she said, stepping back. “Now, keep your eyes closed and
rise again. We’re going to work through a few sun salutations and you’re
both going to break a sweat. If at any time either of you needs to open your
eyes or go into child’s pose, I encourage you to listen to your body and let it
lead your practice. However, when you hit that wall and you think you’ve
had enough, I want you to take a deep breath and push yourself just a little
further.”
The music picked up, mixing with her words as she continued pushing
us through poses.
“Exhale. Lower. Inhale. Up dog.”
With my eyes closed, I could feel Erik’s presence next to me more than
ever. I could hear his heavy breaths. I could sense him standing strong
beside me, working through the poses in time with me. Kira led us through
another flow and beads of sweat started rolling down my arms, sliding
across my stomach and dropping onto my mat. I peeked my eyes open to
see them starting to pool below me, proof of my body’s exertion.
“Good, step or hop to the front of your mat. Inhale. Halfway lift.
Exhale.”
We made our way back to standing at the top of our mats and she
continued talking, swiveling around us and adjusting our poses. Her hands
were so sure on my body, confident of where to touch and where to guide.
“Too often, we rely on our sight to lead us through life. If we close our
eyes and cut off that sense, we have an urge to reach our hands out and feel
for our surroundings, but you two know where you are. Feel your body as it
roots down through the ground for mountain pose. Lift your arms overhead,
inhale, and then fold down again.”
We worked through a few more flows, moving in time with our breaths.
I focused on Kira’s voice, lost in the way it mixed with the music. I was
starting to sweat even more, heavy drops rolling across my neck and chest. I
was breathing hard, holding each pose until I thought my muscles would
give out. The heat was killing me, but it felt good. Invigorating.
“Good, hop or step back to the front of your mat. Root down. Inhale.
Rise, and now, finally, open your eyes.”
 I inhaled a breath and blinked my eyes open. My gaze immediately
found Erik’s in the mirror. He stood at the top of his mat beside me. I
watched a drop of sweat as it rolled over his pecs, down across his tight abs.
He held my gaze as his chest rose and fell with his breaths. His eyes were
narrowed, watching me as Kira told us to breathe and settle into our sight
again. The only thing I cared to settle into was Erik. His dark hair was damp
and a few strands stuck to his forehead. I wanted to brush them away and
kiss the spot, taste the salty moisture coating his skin.
I wasn’t ready to look away by the time Kira told us to fold back over
and hug our knees, but I followed her instructions anyway. We worked
through the same sequence of poses we’d done with our eyes closed. She
walked around us, adjusting as she saw fit: tilting our feet wider or twisting
our arms into the correct positions, but with Erik, her hands always lingered
a moment too long. She glided her hands down his back, using her palms to
help twist his chest open more during warrior two.
“Good,” she soothed, pushing him another inch toward the mirror. Her
hands looked so comfortable on his skin that my stomach started to twist as
if someone was reaching in and wringing out my insides.
As we continued working through the rest of the practice, I tried to
focus on my own movements, but the temperature in the room kept growing
hotter and hotter. My yoga pants stuck to me like a second skin, my sports
bra was drenched, and my breathing was heavy and loud.
Kira came to stand behind me as we finished our final pose. Her hands
glided across my skin, stretching my arms out so I had to sink lower, my
thighs shaking with effort.
“Good Brie,” she whispered. Her breath skimmed across the back of my
neck, sending a shiver across my shoulders. Her hands tightened around my
arms. I met her eyes in the mirror and she offered me a small, knowing
smile. Did she know I hated her hands on Erik? Was she aware of the goose
bumps her touch elicited?
“Do you feel how strong you are?” she asked, moving back to assess us
both. “Your bodies never failed you. Even without sight, they knew what to
do. They carried you through your practice and I want you to take that
knowledge with you when you leave this studio.
“Now fold down and take a seat on your mat.”
It felt good to sit, to rest and let the heat consume me even more. I
glanced back up to Erik in time to see him reach for a towel and drag it
across his forehead. It didn’t help much; we were both drenched.
“Keep falling, using your core to slowly guide you down until you’re
lying on your back. We’re going to do a simple spinal twist before we’re
done.”
She instructed us to bend our right knee and let it fall gently over the
left side of our body.
“Stretch your arms out in a T and let your right ear rest against the mat.
You should feel a gentle stretch in your spine.”
Erik was on the other side of me and my hand hit his forearm as I
adjusted into the pose. He tensed but didn’t move it away, and I inhaled a
shaky breath, hyperaware of the skin-to-skin contact. Though I was facing
away from him, I swore he was watching me in the pose, staring at the rise
of my chest as another bead of sweat dripped down my sports bra. My skin
was on fire. I wanted to turn over my shoulder and find out if he was
watching me, but I resisted the urge.
Kira walked behind me and bent low.
“Inhale,” she said, dropping one hand to my hip and one hand on my
knee. As I exhaled, she pushed down, slowly, pushing me farther into the
pose. My exhale sounded more like a soft moan, forcing a new layer of
flames to spread across my skin.
“Good,” she said. “Now switch sides.”
I adjusted back to center and then lifted my left leg to let it drape over to
the right side of my body. My head twisted to the left to take in the sight of
Erik. Just like I’d been, he was facing away from me, gracing me with an
unhindered view of his body. His bare chest was so close I could have
leaned over and dragged the pads of my fingers down across him. Would he
flinch if I tried? If I leaned over and licked away a bead of sweat before it
hit his shorts? I was contemplating the thought when Kira moved over him,
telling him to exhale and adjusting him in the pose the same way she’d
adjusted me. Her hands were on his hips as he let out a heavy exhale.
Jealousy burned through me again at the sight of them so close together.
Every fiber of my being knew the two of them had slept together before.
Was this the whole point of yoga? Did he want to bring me here to show me
his former conquests? Or how far I came from comparing to someone like
Kira? Anything I was, she was more. Her body was tempting and sensual.
Her hair was long and dark. Her breasts were full and perky. Her hips were
just curvy enough to drive any man insane.
“Good, Erik,” she said with a husky tone before hovering over him an
inch lower.
My eyes narrowed in anger. I felt like a voyeur watching them there on
the mat. Her touch on him looked intimate, practiced, familiar, and by the
time she moved away from him, I saw red.
The song on the playlist switched and a darker, more seductive sound
filled the quiet studio.
“Erik, lie flat on your back now. We’re going to try something between
you two.”
 Between us?
Her soft gaze turned to me. “Brie, come bend down behind Erik.”
He sat up in protest, but Kira shook her head as she walked to turn the
music up higher.
“Lie back and close your eyes, Erik.”
My gaze flicked from Kira to Erik, waiting for him to put an end to this.
He didn’t want me touching him—he’d made that perfectly clear over the
last few days—but he didn’t stand up to leave. He lay back down just like
Kira had requested. Is he too intrigued to defy her? Or is he just so
accustomed to following her commands throughout the session? I felt a
searing in my chest when I saw how sweet and compliant he could be with
this other woman, though he was so volatile with me.
Jealousy ate away at me as I stood and walked behind him. I took him
in slowly, keeping my guard in place. At any moment he would push me
away, hold me back out at arm’s length—but for now, he lay before me with
his eyes closed. His arms were by his sides and his legs were stretched out
on the mat. His features, though relaxed, were as sharp as ever. His lips
were slightly open as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. I wanted to lean down
and cover his mouth with mine, wanted to remind myself what it tasted like
to kiss danger.
“Erik, keep your eyes closed.”
I glanced up, realizing Kira had seen me eyeing Erik like I wanted to
devour him.
“Brie, listen as I guide you. I want you to sit so your knees settle on
either side of his head.”
I did as I was told, trying not to notice the heat emanating from him.
“Wrap your hands behind his neck and slowly massage him there,
pulling away from his shoulders so he feels a gentle stretch.”
 “Umm…” I glanced down, trying to find a solid protest. Surely this was
inappropriate. Surely Erik didn’t want this. My hands squeezed my knees as
I glanced back up to Kira with a question in my gaze.
“You can’t do anything wrong,” she assured me, casting a spell with a
soft smile. “Just try it.”
On a shaky inhale, I reached down and wrapped my fingers behind
Erik’s neck, edging closer to put my knees on either side of his head. His
skin was warm and slick with sweat. His neck was strong and stiff; clearly
he wasn’t as relaxed as Kira wanted him to be.
“Erik,” she continued. “Take a deep breath and exhale slowly.”
I moved my fingers, slowly gliding them along his muscles, loosening
the tension there. I wanted to make him feel good. I wanted him to relax in
my arms.
“Good Brie. Now slowly guide your hands to the tops of his shoulders.
With the heels of your palms, you’re going to run your hands down his
arms, digging into his biceps until you reach his elbows.”
It seemed easy enough. I pushed up onto my knees and positioned my
hands, looking to her for guidance. She nodded for me to continue, so I dug
the heels of my palms into his biceps and tried to ease the tension in his
muscles. They were massive and coiled tight.
I could hear Erik’s sharp inhale of breath as I reached his elbows. When
I glanced down, I realized I was nearly crawling on top of him. My bare
stomach was just a few inches away from his mouth.
“Beautiful, Brie,” Kira said with a soft tone. “Do this a few more times
until Erik is ready to switch. He’ll do the same to you and then I urge you
both to take some time and find a resting pose that serves you.” I could hear
her moving toward the studio door, but I didn’t glance up. “I’ll come back
in after a few minutes and let you know when you can come out of the
pose.”
Wait. My head snapped up. She’s leaving us in here? Alone?
She walked out of the room, closed the door, and I jerked my palms
away from his arms like they were on fire. I leaned back on my heels and
glanced down at him.
“We can just do the final resting pose if you want. I know you probably
don’t—”
His eyes flickered open and met mine. “Do it again. Harder this time.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Of course I hadn’t done it hard
enough the first time. No setting was free of his critiques. I leaned forward
again and dug my heels into the tops of his biceps, using my full body
weight to help me push down even harder, as if trying cause pain. Maybe I
am. I reached his elbows again, prepared to sit back on my heels, when his
arm slipped out from beneath my palm and curled around my stomach. He
was holding me there, my body hovering over his.
A second later he lifted his head to kiss the patch of skin between my
belly button and the top of my yoga pants. His lips were soft and sensual
and the heat of his breath on my skin made my back arch in need. He
tightened his hold around my waist and my arms nearly gave out.
“You are so unbelievably sexy,” he said, his lips moving across my skin
with every syllable. He dipped his finger between the top of my yoga pants
and my skin, dragging it across my stomach slowly. My stomach muscles
quivered, my back arched even more, and my head fell back, giving him
better access to me.
“These hips.” He let out a groan that nearly sounded like a growl. “I
want these hips hovering over my mouth while I taste you.”
 I squeezed my eyes closed, letting his dark words spiral around me. I
already knew I’d touch myself later, replaying that sentence in my head
over and over again.
I opened my mouth to beg him for more, but he was sitting up, gripping
my shoulders in his hands and flipping me on my back so we could switch
positions. He hovered over me like a demon, casting me in shadow with his
broad shoulders.
My mouth went dry.
“We don’t have to do this,” I said, looking up at him staring down at
me. Suddenly, I wanted out. He was there, hovering over me with shadowed
eyes, and I wasn’t so sure I wanted to be at his mercy.
“Close your eyes, Brie.”
At any moment Kira was going to walk in and find Erik touching me,
but instead of turning me off, the idea swelled over me like a dark cloud.
She’d had her hands on him for the last hour, but his hands were on me
now. His mouth was inches above mine as he massaged my neck. The heels
of his palms ground into my arms as he dragged his hands down to my
elbows. Like a chain reaction, thousands of tiny fireworks spread through
my body from where he touched me. The sensation was nearly too much to
contain. I wet my bottom lip and dug my nails into the heels of my palms.
Any second he would pull away, the door would open, and Kira would
compliment us on our practice and tell us to drop our mats by the door.
She’d usher us back through the front door and I’d settle into another silent
car ride home with Erik, turned on and more frustrated than ever.
No.
I wasn’t going to let that happen. Erik wouldn’t let that happen.
He skimmed his hands up over my bare stomach, brushing across my
breasts so gently it could have been an accident—but then he was there
again, brushing his fingertips back and forth across my nipples. I squeezed
my eyes closed, trying to savor the sensation as long as possible.
“Erik.”
He dipped his fingers beneath the bottom of my sports bra and tugged it
higher, just barely exposing the bottom curve of my breasts. He waited
there until I arched my back, showing him I wanted him to continue. He
pushed the sports bra higher, up over my breasts, freeing them so he could
bend down and brush his tongue across each one. I cried out and gripped
the back of his neck to keep his mouth on me. Back and forth he went,
palming and sucking my breasts into his mouth until I was withering on the
floor.
“She’s beautiful.”
My eyes opened with a jerk.
Kira.
She stood against the mirrors in the front of the room, eyes glued on us.
On me. Her sensual gaze slid down my body and my heart sputtered to a
stop, then sped up, pounding so hard I could feel it in my stomach.
Erik leaned forward and slid his hand between my legs, stroking me
back and forth over my yoga pants. The friction was intense and the soft
material made his fingers even harder to resist as he brushed against my
bundle of nerves.
Holy.
“Is she as soft as she looks?” Kira asked.
“Like velvet,” Erik answered, his tone warm and husky.
“I want to see what she looks like when she loses control.”
What is happening?
Why isn’t he kicking her out?
Why don’t I kick her out?
 Erik’s lips twisted into a devilish smirk. “Do you hear that, Brie?” he
asked as his lips hit my ear. “She wants to see you come.”
His fingers picked up to a maddening pace, rolling over my clit, and I
moaned, tingles erupting down my body. My hips arched off the ground,
grinding up against his hand.
“Have you tasted her?” Kira asked, pushing off the mirrors and stepping
closer. Her dark hair was still tugged up into a tiny bun, but a few strands
framed her face, highlighting her full lips.
I watched her drop down to her knees in front of me, far enough away
that I knew she was waiting for my permission. Her hand reached out and
glided up my shin, and my stomach shook with butterflies.
“Erik,” I breathed, unsure of what to do. Would he let her touch me?
Taste me?
He pushed the top of my yoga pants down, taking my panties with them.
He kept pushing the material past my hip bones and then down another
inch. I had to lift my butt off the ground for him to get them any farther, and
I knew if I did, it was as good as consent. Kira’s hands reached up for my
clothes and when her soft fingers hit the skin just above my pubic bone, my
hips lifted off the ground on their own accord. She undressed me the rest of
the way and then tossed my clothes to the side.
“Do you want her to touch you?” Erik asked, sliding his hand down my
stomach. He hit my belly button and then brushed lower, skimming across
my most sensitive skin. He spread me open, showing Kira every inch of my
soft curves as his middle finger dipped inside. I cried out and dug my nails
into the back of his neck. He slid in and out slowly, so slowly, and then
Kira’s breath hit the inside of my thigh and I squeezed my eyes closed so
tight it hurt.
 I thought I was going to pass out from the adrenaline spiking my blood.
It was all too much. My body didn’t know where to focus. A million
different sensations were hitting me at once.
“Answer,” Erik commanded with a soft whisper against my ear.
I nodded breathlessly, reaching down to grip Kira’s silky hair so she
couldn’t pull away. I had no clue what was happening. I’d never once been
touched by another woman, but I dreaded the thought of her pulling away. I
wanted this too much.
She pressed a butterfly kiss to my inner thigh, but it wasn’t enough and
Erik knew it. He reached down and hooked his hand beneath my right knee,
spread my thighs, and opened me for her even more.
Her kisses trailed the inside of my thigh as she tasted my salty skin. Her
smooth hands blazed the trail for her lips and when she touched the inside
of my thigh right where it met my hip, my eyes nearly rolled into the back
of my head. She touched and stroked me gently, not wanting to push too far
too fast. Her fingers were like feathers across my skin and when she finally
put her lips on the very center of me, I lost track of everything but her
mouth. It was divine.
I squeezed my eyes closed harder as my toes curled. Every part of me
was trying hard to stave off my orgasm. The sparks were so close, but I
didn’t want her to stop, not when she’d only just begun.
“Kira,” I whispered, trying to tell her to slow down, but she reached out
and pressed my hips down so I couldn’t move. She covered me with her
mouth and swirled her tongue across my clit. I tried to roll my hips to meet
her, but she had me pressed to the floor so hard I couldn’t move.
It was maddening and Erik could see it written across my face.
“Do you see what can happen when you listen to your body?”
 I let out a moan as my stomach started to shake. He bent forward, pulled
my nipple into his mouth, and I saw stars. I fisted my hands in his hair as
my orgasm grew closer and closer.
“I need to come,” I begged.
Kira’s tongue slid up and down and I pressed my hips up, trying to keep
her in that…exact…spot.
She swirled her tongue again and I started to shudder.
I locked eyes with Erik and he nodded, giving me permission to fall.
“Yes,” I cried. “Yes.”
My entire body shook as bliss overtook me. Erik kissed me hard,
dragging his teeth along my bottom lip as I moaned into his mouth. Kira
didn’t let up once; she licked me until my breathing slowed and my eyes
fluttered open.
I thought she’d back off then, but it wasn’t enough. Erik’s hands were
all over me, burning my skin as Kira’s soft lips played with my head. The
sensations were so opposite. Erik’s hands were strong and calloused; he
took what he wanted, gripping my body like it was his to own. Kira’s touch
was tentative and sweet, so fucking soft I couldn’t help begging for more.
My second orgasm came on faster, so quick I couldn’t try to control it.
My body jerked as I pressed my lips against Erik’s neck, moaning his name
over and over again as I tried to keep hold of the sensations. I wanted it to
go on forever, and it seemed to as Kira’s tongue robbed me of the concept
of time.
There, in the aftermath of the most intense orgasm of my life, I realized
they hadn’t touched once. They were both completely clothed; I was the
one spread on the ground, naked and exposed. Kira kissed my inner thigh
one last time, massaging the spot before she slowly pulled away. Warm air
hit my skin as real life settled back into place. I was dripping with sweat,
both from my workout and from my heady orgasms.
“What did she taste like?” Erik asked when my eyes finally fluttered
open.
Kira smirked as she pushed to stand. “Bliss.”
I was flustered as I tried to orient myself back to reality. I pulled my
yoga pants back into place and felt Kira behind me, watching from a few
feet away. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. To them, I was a toy,
and they’d fucked with me so much that even as I stood and adjusted my
pants, I knew there was no use in trying to erase the last few minutes. They
were branded across my heart forever.
Kira stepped forward and lifted my chin, forcing me to meet her gaze in
the mirror. She was smiling, easy and confident. She and Erik had worked
together in the last few minutes, making me come so hard my world shifted,
and yet she looked so calm, like the last few minutes had been nothing at
all.
“Your body is beautiful,” she said. “Trust it.”
I reached my tongue out to wet my lips.
“It’s the only thing in this world you can depend on.”
As if on cue, Erik came into view in my periphery. He tugged his t-shirt
back into place near the cubbies and reached for his keys. His eyes didn’t
meet mine in the mirror as he crossed the room. He pulled the studio door
open and called to me over his shoulder.
“I’ll meet you in the truck,” he said with his usual tone.
His words sliced through me. They were distant and cold, the polar
opposite of Kira’s. She gripped my hip, reassuring me, and then walked off
to pull the mats from the center of the room. I grabbed my t-shirt and phone
and headed for the door with my eyes on the ground.
 “Good luck in Rio,” Kira called.
I waved and walked out, not bothering to correct her. I didn’t need luck
for the games; I needed luck to get through the next twenty minutes alone
with Erik.
He was already sitting behind the wheel, waiting for me to join him. As
soon as I pulled my door shut, he took off, kicking up dirt under his wheels
as he whipped back out onto the deserted street.
The excitement I’d felt only minutes before had morphed into
something dark and ugly. I was crashing from the adrenaline; the spell was
wearing off, and in its place there was only anger. I’d put myself out there,
had bared myself for him, and he was back to treating me like nothing. My
body couldn’t handle the whiplash. I needed him to pull me close and
reassure me that the last thirty minutes had been as exhilarating for him as
they’d been for me.
The longer we sat in silence, the more my body filled with anger. I
shook with it. Rage bloomed in my stomach, though I tried hard to ignore it.
I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to focus my attention through the
front windshield, but every time he moved I nearly jumped out of my skin.
What was going on in that thick skull of his? How can he not be moved
by what he just did? A normal, decent guy would reach across the front seat
and hold my hand. He’d try to strike up a conversation and make me feel
more comfortable. Erik might as well have been a ghost in the driver’s seat.
He pulled off onto the gravel drive in front of his house and I knew we
only had another minute together.
I turned and narrowed my eyes on his sharp profile. “You didn’t touch
Kira once back there. Why?”
She dripped sexuality, and if I were a guy, I would have picked her over
me ten out of ten times, so why hadn’t Erik?
 A slow-spreading smirk overtook the right side of his mouth as he
turned to assess me coolly. “I’ve fucked her before.”
Ice filled my veins.
“How many times?”
“Get out of the truck, Brie.”
We were right outside the guesthouse. I needed to get out and walk
inside, strip off my clothes, and shower off the last thirty minutes. I needed
to push the night to the back of my mind and focus on what was most
important: Rio. Except, I didn’t get out of the truck. I leaned closer to Erik
and got right in his face, so close he couldn’t ignore me.
“I’m not your plaything. I’m a real person with real feelings and real
desires.”
His dark brow arched. “Are the two exclusive?”
I reared back, eyes wide. My mouth opened, but no sound came out.
His smirk spread wider as his gaze raked down my body, unabashed.
“No, Brie. You’re a little doll.” His hand reached out to push a few stray
hairs behind my ear. I tilted into his touch on impulse, like my body was
conditioned to respond to him. “You’re so easy to control,” he continued,
bending low to whisper against my lips. “If I pushed you back on this seat
right now, you’d spread your legs for me.”
I shook my head “No. I would never let you do that.”
My words sounded strong in my head, but in the front seat of the car,
they came out weak and trembling.
He laughed and the sound nearly tore my heart in two. “You already
have.”
I scraped my fingers across his hand and flung it away from me.
“You’re a manipulative pig,” I spat, shoving my door open and
stumbling out of the car. “Do me a favor and erase tonight from your
memory.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Erik

THE MOMENT BRIE stormed off, my confidence was replaced with

self-loathing. It was too much, too fast, and I was reminded why she’d been
off limits in the first place. I faced the facts: Brie was too young and too
naive. She was mine to coach, not to fuck. She’d trusted me and I’d put her
in that situation, knowing full well it would end with me touching her—
with Kira touching her. I couldn’t help myself. She was too tempting to
ignore: her delicate lips, her glistening skin, her face full of longing.
Jesus, it was wrong.
If anyone had seen us in the yoga studio, my entire life would change in
one clean swipe. The Olympic Committee would pull me from my position
as coach, and my critics’ quiet doubts would solidify into public I-told-you-
so’s. Parents would condemn my choices, pull their children out of classes
at Seattle Flyers, and I’d be left with nothing to show for it—not even Brie.
She and I weren’t forever. She was a beautiful little fantasy, the kind that
kept you up at night, not the kind that extended into reality.
I’d coached for ten years and had never once come close to caring for
one of my gymnasts the way I felt for Brie. She was under my skin; she’d
burrowed there the first time she stepped out of that black SUV and opened
her mouth. Maybe if she weren’t so sharp, maybe if her body weren’t so
fucking beautiful, maybe if she backed down instead of rising to every
challenge I threw her direction it would have been easier to stay away.
If I could go back in time, I never would have touched her, simple as
that. This was the most pivotal moment of my career. I had too much to
prove to myself, to the world, and especially to my father.
While growing up, he had made it very clear that his time and attention
were valuable. He’d moved from Sweden to coach women’s gymnastics
and was prepared to dedicate his entire life to it. Even before I was born, he
was in high demand, coaching the country’s top Olympic hopefuls and
building up his training facility in Texas. During the week, my mom and I
rarely saw him. On the weekends, he was around even less.
As soon as I was old enough to enroll, I begged my mom to take me up
to the gym for a gymnastics class. It was there in that class that I
remembered feeling my father’s love for the very first time. He dosed it out
so rarely that when I did feel it, when his gaze was on me, I was blinded by
it. At the time, I thought I’d fallen in love with gymnastics, but in reality, it
was my father’s praise that had seduced me.
The next day, I pleaded with my mom to take me back for another class,
and from then on, I lived at the gym. Every day after school, I joined my
father and practiced under his direction. I completed high school by sixteen
so I could focus on gymnastics full-time and my father had never been
prouder.
I never became immune to his attention. Over the years, I built walls in
my mind to protect myself from the truth, and by seventeen, I was a shell of
a person. Living for so long under the pressure of my father had
extinguished the native passions I’d had as a boy. I didn’t have a life or
personality outside the gym. I didn’t go out; I didn’t have friends. I had no
interests outside of gymnastics.
 I was in the gym every single day, working my ass off for a borrowed
dream. At the time, I never considered how unhappy I was. Occasionally at
night, when I had a moment alone with my thoughts, I’d consider a
different life, an easier life, but I would hear echoes of my father’s voice,
telling me to persist. Of course I wasn’t happy, I’d told myself. I was
training seven days a week. What elite athlete enjoys the long workouts, the
tears and sweat and blood?
Besides, it wasn’t that I was depressed; I’d learned to be nothing,
completely numb to the world, not happy or sad or angry. I couldn’t muster
a single feeling at all, but I told myself it was okay. My father had enough
passion for the both of us. He believed in me; he knew I could achieve
greatness if only I kept my nose to the grindstone.
Six months before the Olympic games, an injury in my shoulder broke
through the numbness of my life. It started as acute tendinopathy, but
because my daily workouts never gave it a chance to heal, it ballooned into
a full-blown chronic condition. I would wake up every day feeling fine, but
after warm-ups I began to feel it. Like a distant train chugging toward me
on the horizon, the pain built slowly, punctuated by agonizing bursts of the
horn until it came upon me in full force. In my apathy, the throbbing
became the only thing my mind could focus on. My doctor said the
shoulder wouldn’t heal unless I took six weeks off. My father had thrown a
fit inside the doctor’s office, even slinging a potted plant across the room
when the doctor had asked him to calm down. I didn’t flinch when it
shattered against the wall; I just sat there, thinking to myself that I should
have been embarrassed, but I couldn’t remember what embarrassment felt
like. In my deadened state, I couldn’t bring myself to rage alongside him. It
was like hearing an acquaintance’s parent has passed away—I recognized
that an objectively sad thing had happened, but it wasn’t my heartbreak to
bear.
My dad reached back and pulled me out of the doctor’s office, shouting
about how I couldn’t take six weeks off.
The following morning, he’d walked into my room with a small bottle
of pills.
“Where’d you get these?” I asked. There was no prescription taped to
the side of the blue bottle.
“Your new doctor,” he lied, closing my fingers around the bottle. “Take
one a day, two if you need it.”
Then he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door to any
discussion.
The tiny pills rattled in the plastic bottle as I dumped one out and stared
at it in the palm of my hand. Without hesitation, I swallowed it and leaned
down to drink from the tap in my bathroom. I didn’t feel different right
away; I laid on my bed with my eyes closed and sometime later, after the
high had settled in, I realized I was smiling for the first time in years.
The next day, I took another one, shielded by my father’s instructions. I
needed the pills for my shoulder. As crazy as he’d seemed that day in the
doctor’s office, I couldn’t argue with the results. I was confident in the gym
again, no longer tempering my practice to the level of pain. He refilled the
bottle a second time and I gladly accepted, but the new supply didn’t last
nearly as long as the first.
I took two to three pills a day during the months leading up to the
games. My father never asked questions. He refilled the bottle and dropped
it on my nightstand every week. Like a hungry Pavlovian dog, the heavy
rattle would make my mouth salivate, and boy was I a well-trained pet.
 I never once considered what I was doing to myself. After all, I wasn’t
addicted; I was completing a course of treatment.
Until the pills betrayed me.
I had slowly reached the maximum dose per day, and even doubled it
after reading sketchy medical forums online, but eventually the tablets
became shadows of themselves, offering only memories of their former
potency. I didn’t know what had changed about them. I demanded the name
of the source from my father, and when he refused and told me to consider
reducing the number I was taking, I took things into my own hands.
I didn’t know how to buy drugs, but I knew 12th and Chicon was a long-
rumored drug market in Austin. I drove down in my beat-up truck and
looped the street a dozen times, watching the cop cars lingering around,
flashing their lights at any loitering pedestrians. The tenth time I looped
around the block, I caught sight of two guys in an adjacent alleyway. They
were tucked away in the shadows, smoking cigarettes and speaking jocular
Spanish. I pulled my car to the side of the road and hopped out just as they
turned to assess me.
They looked like the epitome of thugs: baggy pants, dark tattoos
spiraling up their arms, and narrowed, wary eyes. Their skin was dark and
leathery from years in the sun and as they watched me approach, I
wondered if maybe I’d made the wrong decision.
“Whatcha looking at pinche gringo?”
I took a step back and glanced over my shoulder; there wasn’t a cop car
in sight. If I needed help, no one would come. I turned back to stare at them
and rolled back on my heels, finding I wasn’t really scared of them, but
rather of speaking the words I’d come there to say.
“You here to make a deal or stand there like a pussy?” the guy asked,
causing his friend to cackle loudly.
 Was this really how it worked? I’d ask them for drugs and they’d hand
them over, like convenience store clerks?
The moment felt fake, like we were actors on a set rather than real
people on the streets of Austin.
Even as I answered them with a shaky voice—“Oxy”—my eyes
scanned my surroundings, waiting for someone to stop and take notice. I
had to be sure there were no witnesses. I’d just competed and won gold at
Worlds two months earlier. I was slotted for the Olympics and if I got
caught buying drugs, my career would be over. More than over, it’d go up
in flames.
“You look like a fucking narc, pretty boy,” the leader said, stepping
forward and sizing me up.
I was tall for my age and built from years of training. I knew I didn’t
look seventeen, and this guy didn’t believe me even as I tried to assure him.
“I’m just looking to buy oxycodone.”
He snarled and spit in my face. “Get out of my sight, hombre.”
His saliva didn’t faze me; I was desperate.
“Please,” I begged, my voice strained.
He glanced back at his friend, like Get a load of this guy, and then
before I could register his movement, he reared back and punched me in the
stomach so hard I keeled over, feeling vomit coat my esophagus.
“Go get your mommy-high somewhere else, pinche cabron.”
He reared back again, kicking his foot into the side of my lungs. I hit the
concrete with a heavy thud, coughing and sputtering for breath. My palm
hit the ground, trying to find balance, and I squeezed my eyes closed,
prepared for more destruction.
Their laughter sliced through the air as they turned and walked away,
proud of themselves. I opened my eyes and stared sideways at their feet,
opening my mouth and hearing myself wheeze in haggard breaths.
When they turned the corner, I heard laughter. Loud cackles filled the
air around me. I whipped my head around, trying to find the source, and
then it slowly sank in: the realization that the sound was coming from me. It
was a real, non-pill-induced laugh, followed sharply by acute pain. For so
long I’d been numb, wallowing at rock bottom while being told I was
reaching the top. I had always been skeptical about people who claimed to
have had “eureka” moments, but there on the concrete, my nerves felt as if
they were firing at all once. They’d been held back for so long and now that
the dam was broken, there was no stopping them. I stayed on the concrete
as my body shook with the weight of my emotions.
Numbness had been comfortable; the ability to feel hurt like hell.
That day, I’d gone looking for drugs, and maybe I’d found them—by
the time I stumbled back to my car, I felt euphoric for the first time in 13
years.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Brie

AFTER CONVENING FOR an emergency training summit in Seattle, WA

last month, the U.S. women’s gymnastics team and new coach Erik Winter
claim they are fully prepared to take the world stage. The team is set to
arrive in Rio de Janeiro today, and soon the world will see if these five
Olympians can meet or exceed the lofty expectations set by a strong
performance at this year’s Worlds.
After all the discussion of the eleventh hour coaching change, all eyes
will likely now focus on Olympic Cinderella Brie Watson. The rookie
Watson will expect to face fierce competition in pursuit of gold, but her
performance at the upcoming qualifications will—
“Guys we need to go!” Rosie yelled up the stairs.
I tossed my phone on my bed like Rosie was standing right behind me,
catching me red-handed. I didn’t read articles. I didn’t Google my name or
stay up to date with what the media was writing. It was easier to stay free of
distractions in a bubble of naiveté, but that morning, I couldn’t help myself.
We were trending on Facebook and I’d hovered my finger over the hot link
until finally, I’d clicked it. There was already enough pressure building up
inside me, so reading sentences about how “all eyes will be on Olympic
Cinderella Brie Watson” made my insides churn.
 I wasn’t Cinderella, and just as no fairy godmother was going to
magically plop me onto the podium, no prince was going fit me for designer
pumps afterward. I was on my own.
“We have to be at the airport in thirty minutes!” Rosie yelled again,
trying to catch our attention.
“Shit.”
I turned my attention back to my suitcase on the floor and bent down to
try to yank the zipper closed. My stuff had fit in it a month ago, but now
that we were leaving for Rio, my belongings had apparently doubled in
size.
“Here,” Molly said, pressing her full weight on top of it so I could zip it
quickly. I shot her a thankful smile and pushed to my feet.
“Do we have everything?” she asked, scanning the room.
“Did you pack your dildo collection?”
“Ha ha ha, so funny.”
“Electric nipple clamps?”
“Oh my god. You’re officially worse than Lexi.”
We checked over the room one last time, confirming we weren’t leaving
anything behind. The room was small, but my bunk had been cozy, and
when I flipped the light switch and walked out, I felt a pang of sadness hit
my stomach, almost like I was going to miss the place. Almost.
Truthfully, I couldn’t wait to get out of Erik’s guesthouse. The last
month had been difficult, not only for my head but also for my heart. I
wanted to play tough for Erik. I wanted to show him I could be just as cool
and indifferent as he was, but my armor was starting to chip.
It’d been nearly thirty-six hours since we’d fought in his truck on the
way back from yoga—not that I was counting. The day before, he’d given
us a break from training so we could pack and prepare for Rio. Instead, I’d
done a mighty fine job of wallowing in my room, trying to make sense of
my life.
I was about to go to Rio and compete in the Olympics. It was a once-in-
a-lifetime opportunity and if I was smart, I’d keep my head down and focus
on gymnastics—yet thoughts of Erik consumed me. I couldn’t stop
replaying our night in the yoga studio. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw
him hovering over me, lust smoldering behind his gaze. Every time I
brushed my hand across my skin, I pretended it was his hand, claiming me
as he had in front of Kira. I knew he’d been moved by the experience. His
mouth had been everywhere, blazing across my skin with enough heat that
even thirty-six hours later, I still felt burned.
I’d never done anything like that before—what we’d done with Kira—
and just the thought of it heated my blood. Lying there with both of their
attention on me, their hands, their mouths, their dark words aimed at me
and my pleasure alone—it was enough to drive me insane. Though the night
had ripped me from my comfort zone, I’d let myself enjoy it because I
knew Erik was there, holding me through it. He’d known I would enjoy it,
and I had. I’d felt safe with him there, and yet by the end of the night, the
Hyde to his Jekyll had returned. The magic was lost the moment he started
his truck, and I was back to being a doll for him to either play with or pack
away when I no longer convenienced him.

“I ALREADY HAVE a few party invites nailed down,” Lexi said.

She’d snatched the window seat on the plane and I’d taken the seat
beside her, across the aisle from Molly. Lexi was on her phone, scrolling
through Facebook, accepting and declining event invitations. I was busy
trying to see into first-class. Erik was up there and every time one of the
flight attendants giggled, I tilted my head and tried to see past the curtain.
“HELLO. Are you listening? Parties.”
Molly laughed. “We have that gymnastics mixer tonight.”
Lexi gagged. “That’s an Olympic-sanctioned event. It’s like an ice
cream social with chaperones.” She turned and leaned in toward both of us.
“I’m talking about real parties, the kind where pants are optional.”
I stared down at my jean shorts and Lexi laughed.
“Why would Brie want to go to those?” Molly asked with a hushed
tone. “Unless of course they allow coaches in as well?”
I glared at her. “Stop.”
“What?” she asked innocently. “The tension between you two has hit a
new level. You won’t tell me what happened at yoga, so I can only assume
the worst.”
She waggled her eyebrows and I shook my head. “Nothing happened.”
Lexi coughed. “Liar.”
Another giggle sounded from first class and I leaned forward to rifle
through my backpack for my MP3 player. I wouldn’t survive the flight, not
with Erik up there ignoring me and Lexi and Molly interrogating me. I
stuffed my earbuds into my ears and closed my eyes, crossing my arms
when Lexi tried to get my attention.
“Wake me up when we get there,” I said, squeezing my eyes closed
harder.
“Fine,” she said, just before tugging one of my headphones out so I
could hear the second part of her sentence. “But after the mixer tonight,
we’re going out—Olympic style.”
IT WAS A short drive from the airport to the village, though that didn’t
make it any better. All six of us were stuffed into the same shuttle. As we’d
loaded up, Erik had stood back, letting us all climb in first. He didn’t make
eye contact with me as I passed him, but his hand pressed to my lower back,
guiding me toward the back seat. I’d shivered at his touch and I knew the
bastard had felt it.
Once we were all inside, he’d hopped in and slid the large door closed
behind him. For the twenty-minute drive, I stared at the back of his head,
taking in the clean cut of his inky black hair and trying hard to read his
thoughts; I wanted to get to the juicy stuff: the things that kept him up at
night, what he really thought of me. I could smell his body wash from my
perch behind him. It was a scent I’d come to associate with lust and
longing. I hated it.
Lexi leaned in close and whispered, “You haven’t blinked in like five
minutes. I think there’s dust collecting on your eyeballs.”
I elbowed her in the chest and she laughed, not the least bit deterred.
“Whoa! Look!” Rosie said, pointing out the window as our shuttle
drove into the Olympic Village.
The place was everything I’d imagined: new and luxurious. It reminded
me of an outdoor mall with shops lining a central road. There were coffee
shops, salons, bookstores, pharmacies. Anything we needed was only a
short walk away from the American athlete complex.
“Don’t be late this evening and don’t do anything stupid,” Erik said,
keeping his attention out the window. “We have qualifications in two days,
so no alcohol and no parties.”
“Gonna put a guard outside our door?” Lexi challenged.
I caught his subtle smirk. “If I have to.”
 “Will you be there tonight?” I asked the back of his head. It was the first
time I’d talked to him in two days and I regretted the question as soon as I’d
asked it.
“With the coaches,” he answered with a cool, even tone, never glancing
away from the window.
“What about the men’s gymnastics team?” Lexi asked. “Will they be
there?”
I shot her a curious glance. She wasn’t interested in the men’s
gymnastics team; she was into soccer players.
He shrugged. “They should be.”
Lexi squealed and grabbed my arm. “Perfect, Brie. That means you’ll
get to see Noah!”

LEXI WAS AN evil genius, and she wouldn’t let me forget it.
“Did you see the way he reacted to the mention of Noah?!” she asked,
falling back on my bed and letting her arms splay out wide. She was still
reveling in her “well-placed jealousy bomb”, as she’d so humbly dubbed it.
“You mean the way he didn’t react?” I asked, pulling out another shirt
and hanging it up in my closet. We’d just arrived to our five-room condo
and I was unpacking. I’d managed to hang up two shirts in my small closet
before Lexi let herself into my room so we could continue to discuss her
favorite topic as of late: Erik. Though we each had our own bedroom in the
large condo, Lexi and I were paired up to share a bathroom, which
apparently meant she had free rein of my room as well.
“His jaw clenched so tight I thought it would break!” She laughed,
pushing up to lean on her hands.
 “Well I didn’t see that.”
She rolled to the side and propped her head on her hand. “Fine, new
subject. So you and Noah are still friends?”
Noah. Easy, nice Noah.
I shrugged. “We were never really anything more than friends. We
ended things pretty amicably. We went out for dinner while we were
competing at Worlds, but like I said, he ended the night with a high five. By
the time we returned to the States, there was too much distance between us.
Besides, we both needed to focus on gymnastics.”
“And he didn’t make your heart race and your palms sweat the way Erik
does.”
I swallowed. “And that.”
I seriously needed to stop confiding in Lexi.
“But maybe he’s a late bloomer and now he’s some confident sex-god.
Are you excited to see him tonight?”
I hadn’t really thought about it. When I’d made the Olympic team, Noah
had sent me a long text congratulating me. We’d gone back and forth a few
times, agreeing to meet up in Rio if we had the chance.
“I’ll be happy to see a familiar face. He’s a nice guy.”
She squealed and pushed off the bed. “Perfect. He’s just the bait we
need. Meet me in the bathroom in ten minutes.”
I finished hanging up my clothes and shot my mom a quick text to let
her know I’d arrived in Rio, safe and sound—though sharing a bathroom
with Lexi didn’t guarantee I’d stay that way.
“This is what you’re wearing to the mixer.”
Excuse me?
Lexi was standing in my doorway, holding up a silky black dress that
looked super sexy and about a foot too short for a public outing.
 I shook my head. “I can’t wear that.”
“Just try it on,” she insisted, handing it over before I could protest. The
material was soft in my hand, and I decided I’d humor her. Once she saw
how low-cut the top was on me, I’d tear it off and find something to wear
that was more appropriate.
I slid into the dress, loving the feel of it against my skin. The triangle
top cut across my breasts and showed off a bit of cleavage. The black silky
material stretched tight across my stomach and then flared gently around
my hips in an A-line cut that balanced the low-cut top.
In my life, I could count on one hand the number of times I’d felt truly
sexy. Usually I was stuck in leotards, sweaty and tired after practice. My
body was sculpted and beautiful, but I rarely noticed. The second I saw my
reflection in that little black dress, I knew I wouldn’t take it off. I looked
good. The dress showed off every inch of my petite frame and when Lexi
dropped a pair of simple strappy nude heels in front of me, I didn’t even
protest.
“Can I do your hair and makeup?” she asked with her hands squeezed
together in a plea. “I think a tiny bit of eye shadow and mascara will make
your eyes pop.”
Lexi’s makeup always looked good. In the last month, I’d learned that
she spent more time watching makeup tutorials on YouTube than anyone
else on earth. Even still, I called Molly in to supervise her just to be safe.
“Is she doing too much eye shadow?” I asked ten minutes later, trying to
peek through my closed lids.
Molly stepped in front of me, blocking the mirror.
“Don’t look yet!” she said, holding out her hands. “You look so freaking
good, just relax. Erik’s going to eat his tongue,” Molly said with a
triumphant smile.
 “Don’t we want him to eat something else?” Lexi asked.
My jaw dropped. “LEXI.”
“Oh please. Everyone was thinking it.”
A few minutes later, after Lexi had nearly burned me with the curling
iron, poked my eye out with the mascara wand, and yanked my hair with a
brush so hard I could have sworn I was bleeding from my scalp, she stepped
back and waved her hands in front of me.
“Voila! Sexy by Lexi.”
I took a deep breath and glanced up, prepared for the worst.
“Holy…”
I couldn’t even get the second word out of my mouth. Lexi had worked
some serious magic on my appearance. I angled my face left and right,
taking in the soft brown and gold eye shadows she’d used to cover my lids.
I had even, tan skin, but she’d done something to make it glow under the
bathroom lights.
Lexi crossed her arms, proud of herself. “See? Subtle, but sensual.” She
reached out to push my hair forward so the long loose waves fell over my
shoulder. It felt like silk against my bare skin.
“What about lipstick?” I asked, taking in my pale pink lips.
“I was going to suggest some, but I figured you’d fight me on it.”
“How about red?”
Lexi squealed and lunged for her makeup bag. “YES. I have the perfect
shade for your skin tone.”
Molly laughed and shook her head. “Why do I feel like we’re preparing
Brie for more than just the mixer?”
I let a slow-spreading predatory smile unfold across my lips as I stared
at my reflection in the mirror.
You’re preparing me for war.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Brie

OUR GYMNASTICS MIXER coincided with the opening ceremonies. I

was sad to be missing out, and though the parade of nations takes hours on
end, it would have been fun to meet the other athletes competing for the
United States. Rather than having us attend, the U.S. Gymnastics
Association had invited male and female gymnasts from every competing
country in an effort to “unite nations” for one common goal: bringing
gymnastics programs to the less fortunate across the globe. Our
involvement would ensure that enough donors with deep pockets would be
in attendance. In exchange, we waltzed around the room, stuffed our faces
with hors d’oeuvres, and smiled for the cameras when they were aimed at
us.
All in all, it wasn’t so bad. They’d rented out a ballroom inside a hotel
in the heart of downtown Rio, a few miles away from the village. The decor
was beautiful and the lighting was low, giving off an elegant tone.
“Have you tried the chicken skewer things?” Molly said with a full
mouth.
Well, almost elegant.
“Um, ma’am there’s a limit per guest…”
I glanced over to see Molly trying to shove nearly half the tray onto her
small appetizer plate.
 Lexi stepped forward and waved the waiter away. “Do you realize who
she is?! She’s not a guest; she’s the reason we’re all here, buddy. If she
wants to eat your skinny little chicken legs, you’d better let her!”
He flitted away, opting not to call Lexi’s bluff.
Molly blushed. “I’m just really hungry from the flight.”
She had a point. We were all athletes with intense training regimes;
feeding us tiny chicken bites was just cruel.
I brought my glass of water to my lips and continued my survey of the
room. I’d been looking for Erik for the last twenty minutes, ever since we’d
first arrived, and I still hadn’t found him in the crowd.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get real food after this,” Lexi assured her. “I saw
like twenty restaurants on the way here.”
“Where’s Rosie?” I asked.
“Talking to a reporter. They latched onto her as soon as we arrived and
she’s too polite to walk away.”
I cringed. I had no interest in talking to reporters. They asked the same
questions every single time: are you ready for the games, have you been
training hard, are you nervous, etc.
“Well if she’s still trapped by the time Molly finishes eating her family
chicken platter, we should go save her.”
“Where’s June?” Molly asked, holding out her plate for us to steal from.
I waved it away, too nervous to eat.
“Eh,” Lexi replied. “Last time I saw her, she was trying to suck some
French guy’s dick.”
Had I been eating, I would have choked. “Wait what?”
She shrugged. “She’s over there talking to the French gymnasts.”
I followed her finger and found June in a circle, smiling and chatting
away without a care in the world.
 “I don’t understand her,” Molly said.
Lexi turned to me with wide eyes. “Incoming.”
Before I could process what she meant, I felt a solid hand hit my lower
back.
“Brie!”
I turned over my shoulder and locked eyes with Noah—sweet,
handsome Noah. His bright brown eyes held my attention for a moment
before I let my gaze fall down his body. He’d grown up since I’d last seen
him; he wasn’t the boy I’d left at Worlds the year before. This version of
Noah was a year older and half a foot taller.
“I thought that was you,” he said, bending to wrap me in a hug.
I inhaled his cologne and felt my heart flutter before he took a step back
and gave me enough space to assess him. He was wearing black pants and a
charcoal gray button-down rolled up to his elbows. His blond hair was a bit
overgrown, falling over his forehead and adding to his boyish charm.
“You look good,” he said, raising a brow as he stole a quick glance
down my body.
I laughed and thanked him before introducing him to Lexi and Molly.
“We’ve heard sooo much about you,” Lexi oozed. “Brie said you guys
met last year at Worlds?”
He smiled wider, revealing a dimple on the right side of his mouth. “We
became friends there and then I somehow talked her into going on a few
dates with me.”
Molly perked up. “Oh really? What was she like as a girlfriend?”
I opened my mouth to correct her—I was never his girlfriend—but he
spoke up first.
“Brie was…hard to nail down,” he said, eyeing me with mischief. “She
had a way of always making me want more.”
 Oh really? Because I remembered all but forcing him to try phone sex
with me and him always seeming to redirect the conversation to his new
protein powder.
“But now you’re both in Rio,” Lexi said, pushing me toward him. “So
she should be easier to nail.”
“Nail down,” corrected Molly.
Lexi shrugged. “Whatever.”
I resisted an eye roll. “All right. I think he gets it.”
He laughed. “Come dance with me, just for a second, and then I’ll give
you back to your friends.”
I peered over his shoulder at the small dance floor. There were a few
couples lingering there, no one taking it too seriously. I figured the moment
we hit the floor, cameras would swoop in; the media was always looking to
shoehorn romance into their normally sterile sports pieces. Despite that, my
previous experience with Noah told me it probably wouldn’t be an issue, so
I let him take my hand and lead me over to the dance floor.
“I meant what I said.” He bent low to whisper against my skin, “You
look so good, Brie.”
Noah seemed to have grown up; maybe now he wouldn’t be so clueless.
I smiled and turned to glance over his shoulder as he wrapped his hands
around my waist. There was a guitarist sitting a few feet away on stage,
strumming a seductive tune that made slow dancing easy. I let the music
wrap around me as I interlaced my fingers behind Noah’s neck.
“So how have you been since I last saw you?”
He shrugged. “Been training hard. You know how it goes.”
I nodded. “I’ve watched a few of your competitions.”
“That makes two of us,” he said, brushing a few strands of hair over my
shoulder.
 He led me across the dance floor, turning me gently so I could glide
along with him. I tried to think of something to say, fully aware of the lull
in conversation, but then I spotted Erik a few yards away. He was standing
in a group of coaches, smiling at a woman as she spoke. He looked like the
devil personified, dark and alluring. His black hair was styled in a way that
made his sharp features even more unbearable. He was clean-shaven and
impeccably dressed.
The sight of him completely stole my attention from Noah. He asked me
questions as we danced and I mumbled replies, but my attention was on
Erik—only Erik. He was wearing a fitted navy suit with a crisp white shirt
unbuttoned at the collar. His espresso brown watch matched his belt and
shoes. Until that moment, I hadn’t once considered Erik’s wealth. He kept it
carefully hidden. He drove that beat-up truck and lived in his small cabin,
but I knew hundreds—if not thousands—of gymnasts were shilling out big
bucks to train with him at Seattle Flyers.
He wore that suit like a second skin, comfortable and confident in the
designer material. The entire ensemble was tailored; I knew because I’d
never once seen someone reach for clothing off a rack that looked that
good.
The guitarist slipped into another song and Noah asked me if I wanted
to keep dancing. I nodded and spun around, trying to stay facing Erik. I
watched him, wanting him to turn from the woman he was chatting with
and lock eyes with me. I needed his gaze on my body, his attention on me,
even just for a second.
Another coach walked up to chat with him and I sighed, fully aware that
he was too busy to notice the fact that I was in the same room as him.
“Are you okay?” Noah asked, drawing back to stare at me.
 I shook my head and pulled my attention from Erik. “Oh, yeah. I’m
fine.”
“I just asked if you were nervous about qualifications,” he said with a
light, airy laugh.
When? I hadn’t heard a thing.
“Um, a little bit, I guess,” I said, confused why he wanted to talk about
gymnastics of all things.
His hands tightened on my waist and I glanced over his shoulder again,
helplessly drawn to Erik. He had a commanding presence and whether he
was aware of it or not, every single woman in that room felt it. They circled
around him, lingering and hoping he’d deem them worthy of a second
glance or a smile. He wrapped his hand around a woman’s elbow to pull her
out of the way of a passing waiter, and I saw the shudder that ran down her
spine. She liked the way it felt to be touched by him. He dropped his hand
once the waiter had passed, but she didn’t pull away. She turned to him,
flushed and glowing.
He could fuck her if he wanted to and the mere thought made my
stomach turn. I wanted to march over there and lay some kind of claim to
him; I wanted to scratch my hands down his chest and scar him so every
woman that came after me would know he was mine.
When he finally turned to scan the room, I waited for him to find me.
I’m right here.
Finally, his blue eyes locked with mine and he paused, raking his gaze
down my body, greedily inhaling the dress I’d worn for him. I reached up to
finger my thin strap and ensure I wasn’t spilling out of the top as much as it
felt like I was, but his gaze was already on my legs, snagging on the heels
before he turned away with a devious smile. He tried to cover it with a sip
of his drink, but it still heated my skin from across the room.
 There was a clear line down the middle of the mixer: athletes on one
side, coaches on the other. When I finished dancing with Noah, I told him I
was going to go find something to drink. Instead of walking to the bar near
my teammates, I crossed over the invisible line and headed straight to the
bar behind Erik.
I needed to be closer to him, to catch his scent or hear his voice,
something that would connect us. I walked right behind him and held my
breath, expecting him to reach out and stop me, to call a fucking spade a
spade.
He didn’t falter from his conversation, but one of the other coaches
noticed me walking by and reached out to stop me.
“Oh, Erik! Isn’t this one yours?”
My back bristled as the group turned to asses me.
Yes. Tell them I’m yours, Erik.
Erik took a sip of his drink and nodded. “Brie Watson.”
The pretty coach with blonde hair and a runner’s body stepped forward.
“I watched you compete at Worlds. You’re quite a vision up on the
beam,” she said with a genuine smile and an adorable English accent. She
reached her hand out for me and I shook it as she introduced herself. “I’m
Valerie. I coach for Great Britain.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, hearing the strain in my voice.
Erik was a foot away from me but he wouldn’t make eye contact,
wouldn’t grace me with his gaze.
“Could I speak with you for a second, uh, Coach?” I asked, turning to
him. There were half a dozen eyes pinned on us, waiting for his answer, and
when he shook his head, my heart broke in two.
“It can wait until tomorrow, right?”
 He looked bored when he turned to me, like he was assessing a
complete stranger. I wanted to reach up and slap him, but instead, I
clenched my fists by my sides and swallowed down my embarrassment
with my head held high.
“I—sure,” I said, unsure of how to counter his presumption without
sounding desperate.
“Go ahead Erik,” Valerie said, concern etched across her features. “I’ll
just go—”
He cut her off and stepped forward, turning his back to me. “It’s all
right. What were you saying about the coach’s orientation in the morning?”
My mouth dropped. Fucking asshole. How could someone be so cold?
So domineering? So indifferent? I wanted to tear him apart for treating me
like that in front of other people, but there was nothing I could do that
wouldn’t draw untoward attention to us.
I turned away and tried to find Noah again. He was right where I’d left
him with a smile and a glass of water, waiting for me like a true gentleman.
Noah was the person I belonged with; he made so much more sense.
“Do you want to go sit down and talk?” he asked, holding his hand to a
safe spot behind my shoulder.
I forced a polite smile. “I’d love to.”
Sometime later, while I was at the bar with Noah, ordering another
water, Erik stepped up to join us. He could have slid into the space beside
me, but he chose to go on the other side of Noah, putting a clear distance
between us.
His eyes caught mine and a challenge was issued with a single look. I
pressed up onto my toes and slipped my hand around Noah’s back. He’d
been going on about something stupid, but the second my lips hit his ear, he
shut up and listened.
 “What are you doing after this?” I asked Noah, keeping my eyes on
Erik.
He was watching me sidle up to Noah.
“Fuck you,” I mouthed noiselessly, slowly enough that Erik would have
no trouble interpreting it.
His eyes narrowed and just when I thought he’d reach out and yank
Noah away from me, he leaned closer.
“Nice friend you have here, Brie. Where’d you find him?”
Noah’s back straightened as he turned to assess Erik. I tried to resist, my
gaze flitting between them, taking in the differences. Age, confidence,
height, looks—Erik had him beat, hands down. I forced my focus on Noah
and leaned into him until he wrapped an arm across my shoulder, tugging
me to his chest.
“Noah’s actually an old boyfriend.”
“Oh, nice to meet you Coach Winter,” Noah said, turning to Erik. “I was
hoping to meet you, man.”
Erik nodded dismissively then turned to me and reached out a hand.
“You ready to go?”
“Go?” I frowned. “I thought this thing was supposed to last another
hour or two.”
“You have an early morning, I’m sure your friend understands,” he said
simply, reaching out to grip my elbow. His touch was not to be contested; I
knew if I tried to pull away, he’d make a scene. He’d acted like a complete
asshole after yoga and for the last two days he’d ignored me, pushed me
away, and embarrassed me. Now he suddenly wanted me again, like a child
that sees his discarded toy in the hands of another.
“You’re right, Erik, we do have an early morning,” I said, whipping my
arm out of his grasp and stepping away from Noah. “But Noah is more than
capable of escorting me back, right Noah? Let's go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Erik

NOAH PALED AS he glanced between the two of us.

“You call your coach by his first name?” Noah asked, missing his
chance to lead her away.
Yeah, dick. She calls me by my first name, and she fucking screams it
every time I make her come.
“Noah,” I started, addressing him for the first time. “I’m sure you are
eager to catch up with Brie, and there will be plenty of time in the weeks to
come, but for now, I need to make sure my athletes get a good night’s sleep
for their early morning tomorrow. Good night.”
Brie’s mouth hung open as Noah acquiesced and sauntered away. The
jealousy I’d felt watching her with him was enough to provoke me into
confrontation. I’d prepared myself for the slew of athletes she’d attract. I’d
told myself to give her space and let it happen, but when Noah leaned in
close and made her smile, my fists could have crushed coal into diamond.
The entire night, I’d wanted to walk over and rip him away from her. One
clean punch and he’d never so much as look at her again.
And Brie knew what she was doing. She was long legs in that short
black dress, sexy hair dipping down her back, silky skin on full display. The
second I’d spotted her on the dance floor, I’d wanted to walk over and steal
her, press my lips to hers and brand her as my own in front of everyone, but
instead, I’d kept my fist wrapped around my drink and forced my attention
back to the group of coaches.
Brie wasn’t mine.
She didn’t belong to me.
For thirty minutes I’d told myself to back off, to let the kid try his best
to tame her. He was a much better match for her than I was: simple, easy,
young.
Thirty minutes had passed like ten years and now I was finished being
patient. I was done watching him touch what was mine.
“Let’s go,” I said, ushering Brie away from the bar and leading her
through the crowded room.
She jerked out of my grasp, turning back over her shoulder. “I need to
let the girls know I’m leaving so they don’t look for me.”
“I already told them,” I said. “They’ll be leaving shortly as well.”
She stopped and turned. “Then just let me go with them.”
My fists clenched by my side. “Brie, so fucking help me, if you won’t
just listen to me now, I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and carry
you out.”
“Oh please.” She groaned, spitting fire with her gaze. “You think you
can just ignore me for two days and then I’ll come crawling after you?
Jesus, you’re insane. You completely ignored me in front of all those
coaches. Do you know how embarrassing that was?”
I pulled her out of the ballroom, dragging her out onto the street after
me. She didn’t stay quiet.
“Let me go or I’ll scream.”
If anyone cared enough to watch us, it definitely looked like I was
trying to kidnap her. Fortunately, no one cared enough to stop me.
 When we were down the street, in front of a dark alley and away from
prying eyes, I turned to her and raked a hand through my hair. Her pupils
were dilated, her eyes narrowed in anger. She bit her bottom lip in
frustration and waited for me to give her some answers.
“Ask me why I ignored you. Ask me why I had to turn away from you
in that group. Ask me why I can’t stand the thought of you going home with
that guy. Ask me why I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night,
wishing you were on top of me.”
She swallowed slowly, eyes pinned on me.
“Ask me,” I said, backing her up into the alley behind us.
“There you go, always making me ask for something instead of just
giving it,” she said, forcing her chin up. “You want me to ask you? Well
sorry, but I don’t care.”
She stumbled on something as she walked backward. I reached out to
catch her, steadying her against my body.
“Fucking ask me,” I said, bending down to capture her lips in a kiss.
She pulled back, breaking off our kiss before I could even taste her.
“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?” she asked. “There’s a better
question.”
She moved to push past me, but I caught her wrist and spun her around
so her back was flush with my chest. I had her arm bent across her body and
though she struggled, I didn’t ease up.
“Let me go,” she said with a shaky breath. I could feel her against me. I
knew how turned on she was, how much she loved this war between us.
“Say it like you mean it and I’ll obey,” I said, waiting for her to push me
away for good.
Silence.
 “Who did you wear that dress for? Noah?” I asked, reaching up to guide
my free hand over her neck so I could tilt her head back and press a kiss to
the exposed skin just above her breasts.
“I wanted to send him a message,” she said.
“Yeah?” I dragged my hand up the inside of her thigh and listened to her
take in a sharp breath.
“I wanted him to take me back to his condo and throw me onto his bed
and force my legs apart.” She paused. “Noah always knew how to touch
me.”
I bit back a smirk. Of course he did. That’s why you’re here right now,
about to let me fuck you against a concrete wall.
“Where did he touch you?” She couldn’t move while I had her arm
gripped in front of her chest. “Here?” I asked, sliding my hand beneath her
dress, feeling the smooth curve of her thigh. Her panties were lacy, thin,
drenched.
“Erik.”
“Does he know how easy it is to make you come? Does he know what
you sound like when someone licks you here?”
My thumb brushed against the wetness on her panties and she let her
eyes flutter closed.
“Stop.”
“You’re wet. I can feel you and I haven’t even ripped these off yet,” I
said, pushing her panties aside. I knew the night air was hitting her bare
skin and I knew it was driving her insane that I hadn’t touched her yet. My
hand was holding the lace away, freeing her for me. “Does thinking about
Noah turn you on? Or are you ready to admit the truth?”
Every movement she made brought her ass in contact with my cock, and
I had to resist a groan every single time.
 “No…he doesn’t turn me on,” she said, backtracking. “He’s never even
touched me.”
I smiled into her hair. “He doesn’t know what you like then, does he?”
I thought of the night she’d stripped for me in the backyard, knowing
full well her team could have been watching through the darkness.
I walked us toward the dark alley wall.
“He doesn’t know that it drives you wild to be touched in public—
where someone could walk by and see you…”
I spun her around and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around my
hips without a single protest. Such a good little doll. With her back pressed
against the wall, I gripped her neck in my hand and leaned in, brushing my
lips against hers softly. Once. Twice. Three times. Then I crashed my mouth
against hers as she moaned against me. My tongue swept past her lips and
she tilted her head, kissing me back with a vengeance. She tasted so fucking
sweet.
I jerked back.
“You like the feeling of danger. You want to be taken against an alley
wall more than you want me to take you back to my condo right now.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what I want. You’re too
preoccupied with ignoring me.” She was fighting me with her words, but
she was rolling her hips against me. Even as she continued to push me
away, she was getting herself off.
“I beg to differ. This is a thousand-dollar suit you’re rubbing your pussy
against right now.”
She didn’t even blush. She leaned forward and bit my lip, hard. “You
can afford the dry cleaning, asshole.”
I growled and slammed her back against the wall, sick of the bullshit.
 Her hands gripped fistfuls of my hair, tugging on the strands until it
hurt.
“Tell me to stop or I’m going to fuck you right here,” I said, pulling her
dress aside to expose her breasts. They were perky and small, so tantalizing
I couldn’t help but lower my head and swirl my tongue across them. I took
one nipple into my mouth and then the other, palming them hard.
“Erik,” she gasped.
I pulled back and tilted her chin with my finger, staring into her eyes.
“Tell me to stop.”
She smirked and dragged her hand down the front of my chest. When
she hit my belt, she used both hands to pull it open and then she unbuttoned
the front of my pants. I sucked in a sharp inhale as her small palm gripped
me. I leaned forward, caging her against the wall with my head.
“Stop,” she said, amusement in her voice as she stroked my length. I
was so hard in her palm. Up, down. Up, down. Her touch was soft but
erotic, and I could have easily come in her hand.
“Stop,” she said again, teasing as she reached up to grip my neck. With
her other hand, she continued to jack me off.
“Brie, this isn’t a game,” I said, turning and pressing my lips to the side
of her neck. If she really wanted to stop, she needed to say so.
She laughed and the sound was dark and sinister. “Fuck you. This is a
game and you don’t get to make the rules.”
Her words ripped through me, stealing the rest of my patience. I pulled
a condom out of my back pocket, tore it open with my mouth, and then Brie
reached out to help me guide it on. She was greedy, hungry for me to sink
inside her. By the time I had myself positioned at her pussy, she was
begging for it, rolling and tipping her hips so I’d have easier access to her.
“I want to feel you,” she cried, withering against me.
 “Remember when you teased me by the hot tub?” I asked, rubbing my
cock back and forth against her wetness. “When you stripped for me like a
little brat?”
She swallowed and locked her eyes with mine, slowly nodding.
“You thought you had the upper hand then,” I said, slipping the very
first inch inside her. Fuck. She moaned against me and I pushed in another
inch, stretching her tight flesh. I cradled her neck in my hand, holding her
weight against the wall as I pushed her down onto me. “You were wrong.”
I shoved the rest of the way inside her with a quick thrust, burying
myself to the hilt. Her eyes pinched closed and her arms gripped my biceps.
I stilled there, aware of how tight she was around me. She was a small girl
and I didn’t want to hurt her—much.
I reached down to slide my thumb across her clit, to bring her awareness
away from my size. I swirled my thumb there slowly, coaxing her pleasure
to the surface, and then her eyes peeled open and she leaned forward,
crashing her lips against mine.
“Fuck,” I groaned as she started sliding herself up and down, riding me.
“You feel so fucking good.”
“Keep doing that,” she begged. “Please…I’m so close.”
I smiled against her mouth. “Of course you are.”
She scraped her nails across my neck and I hissed, pumping into her
harder than before. She liked it. She threw her head back, narrowly missing
the concrete. I put my hand there to cushion her head as she let her eyes
flutter closed.
“Erik…I’m…”
I continued thrusting into her, feeling my release building more and
more. I’d wanted this for so long. We’d been circling around one another,
playing games and waging war, but this was what we’d wanted, this more
than anything else. When her pussy clenched around me, I nearly lost it, but
I was too consumed with her, too busy watching her lips part and a flush
coat her skin from her navel to nose. God, she was the sexiest thing I’d ever
seen.
When she came, I felt it. She orgasmed with her entire body, clenching
around me so tight I felt a growl building in my chest. Her nails dug into
my shoulders, her mouth dropped open, her eyes squeezed closed, and then
she was whimpering my name.
“Erik…ERIK.”
I kept pounding into her, skin slapping against skin, and just as her nails
eased up on my shoulders, I started to come, whispering her name against
her lips as I buried myself so deep in her she’d feel it for days. I jerked and
groaned, coming for so long I nearly blacked out.
After, I stayed right there against her, inside her, our heavy breaths
blending together in the hazy alley until I could finally pry my eyes open.
She was watching me, curious, as I caught my breath.
I lifted her hips and pulled out of her, setting her back onto the ground
gently, watching to make sure she had her footing before I released her.
She straightened her dress and I tossed the condom, tucking myself
back into my briefs and then zipping up my suit. By the time I glanced back
up at her, she looked nearly as presentable as when she’d left the mixer,
albeit a little more flushed.
Her phone rang on the ground in a purse I hadn’t even noticed until she
was reaching down for it. I vaguely remembered hearing a phone ring a few
minutes earlier as well.
She reached for it and answered with a quick swipe.
“Hey—no…I thought you guys left already.” She glared back at me.
“Hang up the phone.”
 She shook her head and turned her attention toward the street. “Erik—
er…Coach Winter told me he let you guys know I was leaving.”
I’d lied.
I brushed past her and stood at the end of the alley, surveying the street.
The hotel was only a few yards away and I could see the rest of her
teammates lingering outside, waiting for her. Noah was there too, hovering
near them with his hands stuffed down his pockets like a sad sap. He looked
like he’d just lost his puppy.
“No, just wait for me,” she said with an annoyed huff. “I’ll be there in a
second.”
She moved to walk past me out of the alley, but I reached out for her
arm, pulling her back to me.
I brushed a quick kiss to her cheek and whispered against her velvet
skin, “I don’t care who you wore the dress for tonight…as long as you
remember who you took it off for.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Erik

I WOKE UP the next morning feeling satisfied and guilty as hell. Brie was
young and drunk on authority. She wanted me because I was her coach and
she liked the danger of it…and maybe I was taking advantage of the
situation. Persuading her to follow me into a dark alley wouldn’t help mold
her into an Olympic champion, and yet I’d done it anyway.
We were using each other, fucking and fighting like it was our job.
We’d become each other’s prisoners, twisting ourselves into a sexual
Stockholm syndrome, but now that we were in Rio, there were
consequences lurking around every corner. I shuddered to think what would
happen if someone had seen us together. Brie wasn’t underage, but in the
eyes of the public, it wouldn’t matter. I was her coach and she was my
gymnast. I was the predator and she was the victim. I smiled at the thought.
Brie would hate being labeled a victim; she was a fighter through and
through. She’d gone into that alley with me because she’d wanted to; she
teased me because she liked it. She wasn’t the flowers and chocolate type of
woman. She didn’t want me to hold her hand in public, she wanted me to
kick her feet apart and take her from behind. She wanted what I wanted,
and that’s why deep down, I knew we were a perfect fit.
 I showered and pulled out a black suit from my closet. We’d been in Rio
for three days and qualifications were set for the following morning. The
Today Show would be covering the competition and interviewing a few of
the athletes. They’d requested a pre-qualifications interview from me, and
though I would have appreciated a few more hours of sleep, I’d agreed to
the segment months ago. Besides, it wouldn’t be so hard. They wanted a
one-on-one with me so I could give them information on the girls—if they
were ready to compete, what they were like when they weren’t training, that
sort of thing.
An hour later, I sat on a stool facing the stage lights and tried not to go
blind in the process.
“Y’know, Erik, I have to say, if I’d had a coach that looked like you, I
might have stuck with the sport a little longer myself,” the correspondent,
Melissa, joked before reaching forward to touch my knee gently. She had a
short blonde bob that swished back and forth every time she leaned forward
to touch me, which was getting to be more and more often as the interview
droned on.
I smiled and adjusted the lapel of my suit jacket. “It’s never too late; I
could open up adult classes at Seattle Flyers.”
I was flirting with her enough to make for good television and she was
eating it up.
“Oh gosh. I’m scared I’d break a hip or something!” She laughed before
turning to her cue cards. “So as you know, we asked our audience to tweet
in questions about you and the team. Nine out of ten wanted to know more
about Brie Watson. She stormed onto the gymnastics scene a few years
back, and it’s not every day you find someone like her: the total package.
Can you tell us a little more about her?”
 I swallowed and tried to keep my expression neutral as I answered. “To
be honest, I wasn’t sure what Brie would be like when she arrived in
Seattle. She trained at a great gym in Texas and I knew she had the skillset
required to compete at the Olympic level.”
“We know she’s a great gymnast,” ribbed the anchor. “But what is she
like outside the gym?”
“Well she definitely has a strong head on her shoulders. I think you’ll
find in her interviews that she’s not afraid to give her opinion.”
Melissa laughed. “Good! She fights back, I like that.”
Ha.
“That’s crucial to compete at this level,” I continued. “Gymnasts have to
be exceptionally confident. There comes a point in their training when they
know what’s best for themselves, and sometimes that’s the point when they
stop being coachable.”
“Do you think Brie’s past that point?”
I shook my head. “She wants to win, probably more than any athlete at
these games, and even though she completes routines that leave me
speechless, she’s not perfect. Until she has gold around her neck, she will
keep looking to learn and improve.”
Melissa nodded thoughtfully. “You know, some have said if Brie leads
the team to its first all-around gold in twelve years, it will make the
Committee seem like geniuses for appointing you as the replacement coach,
give you a little job security, eh?”
I smiled. “It’s definitely an honor to have been selected, but like you
said, I’m only concerned about helping this team win.”
She glanced down at her cue cards and then back up to me, leveling me
with a sincere stare. “To delve into that question a step further…it’s no
secret you and your father have a strained relationship. I have a quote here
where he states that he believes you’re ‘ultimately a quitter.’ What would
you say in response to that?”
I unclenched my fists, trying to keep my cool on live television.
“Melissa, my father had thirty years as head of this program and it’s
been twelve years since we won all-around gold. My father was a good
coach—no one would deny him credit for launching U.S. women’s
gymnastics into the 21st century—but change was coming long before he
started having health problems. I’m glad the committee could see reason
through pride, even if he couldn’t.”
Her brows perked up with interest, surprised by my lack of diplomacy.
“It’s rumored you and your father haven’t spoken in nearly ten years. What
was it that first put a wedge between the two of you? Did it have to do with
your premature departure from the sport—”
I smiled, tight and thin, before cutting her off. “That stuff is old news.
I’d rather focus on the future.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Brie

LIFE IN THE Olympic Village wasn’t quite how I imagined it to be. Most
of the athletes were beautiful and fit, but I was too busy practicing and
worrying about qualifications to peep at pecs or gawk at glutes. I woke up
early, trailed after my team to the food court on the first floor, and ate
breakfast with my earbuds in place. I practiced in the competition arena,
and when that was full, I moved to the less glamorous practice gym they’d
built next door. After I was done, I crashed in our condo, too anxious and
exhausted to worry about the famed “village orgies” and “parties that make
you bow at the altar of debauchery!” Despite Lexi’s wonderful way with
words, I still preferred to stay low key. We’d been in Rio for a few days and
other than the alley with Erik, the most excitement I’d seen was the mob of
athletes that formed around the salad bar every time they put out a new
batch of hard-boiled eggs.
Qualifications were scheduled for the following morning and I tried not
to think about Erik as I laid out my competition leotard—just like when I
would try to not think about Erik while I brushed my teeth, or ate my lunch,
or y’know, generally existed on earth. I knew it was futile; he conquered my
thoughts no matter how hard I tried to resist.
 Deep down, I knew he was bad for me. Every time I thought of him, my
heart rate kicked up a notch and my stomach clenched tight. He was a sweet
poison and I was so addicted, I didn’t care that our encounters left me
choking for air.
Letting him fuck me in that alley a few days earlier had been the single
most exhilarating experience of my life. An ever-shrinking part of my
consciousness screamed HELLO! PEOPLE COULD HAVE SEEN US, but
as a whole, did I care? No. Nope. Nuh-uh. It was so hot I couldn’t think of it
all at once or I would literally start sweating. Even after I finished laying
out my competition gear for qualifications, when I was tucked in bed and
supposed to be counting sheep, I closed my eyes and guided my hand down
past the hem of my sleeping shorts and replayed the best parts: the way he’d
gripped my thighs, pulling my legs apart so he could see all of me. He’d
watched when he guided himself inside me, moaning with the sight of it.
God, he’d done it so slow that first time, letting me slowly stretch out for
him. I’d thought I would pass out by the time he was buried all the way
inside.
He’d held me there against the wall, not bothering to cushion it for me.
My back scraped the concrete, my legs ached. I dug my nails into his arms,
begging him to slow down, to give me time to adjust. He didn’t care that it
was too intense. He’d growled into my ear, pumping into me until I thought
I’d break in two, but right before I’d hit the edge and cried out, he’d slipped
his hand between us and started to swirl his thumb over me. I’d squeezed
my eyes closed and tried to will the rising tide to recede. I didn’t want to
come that easily. I didn’t want to reveal how much he owned me.
“Come for me, baby,” he whispered, hitting the exact spot that tilted my
world.
“Erik…”
 “I can fucking feel you.” He groaned. “Jesus…”
I’d clenched around him, driving him insane, and he hadn’t slowed his
fingers as I came. I’d let my head fall back with the intensity of it all. He’d
had me there, legs wide, dress tugged down to my waist, body bared. I’d
been vulnerable and shaking, completely under his thumb. He was
destroying me and he loved it.
He wanted to rip my heart out for sport, to add it to his collection with
all the others. I should have fought him more, but I liked it. I liked the way
he ruined me. The game we were playing lit my life on fire—it was clearing
out the old, dry portions to make way for new growth. Every morning, I
woke up with him on my mind. I daydreamed about his mouth. I replayed
the way it felt when he was deep inside me, how it felt to control him for
those short moments.
I wasn’t stupid, though. I knew we weren’t in love in that dark alley—
far from it. We were in a fantasy. As I rolled over and longed for sleep to
take me, I tried to ignore the fact that after the sex, after the fights, after the
blowups, he never once asked for more.

“BRIE, YOU THERE?” my mom asked, drawing my attention back to

our phone call.
I was standing in the bathroom the following evening, trying to rush and
get ready to go out with Lexi.
“Yes, I’m here,” I said, rifling through my makeup bag. I usually kept a
few bobby pins in there, but I couldn’t find any.
“You did so good today! I wish I could have been there to see it.”
 I paused my search and stared up at the mirror, absorbing the guilt in her
tone. “I know, Mom.”
“I’m so proud of you. No matter what happens at finals, you’ve already
made me so proud.”
What about if she found out I was sleeping with my coach? Would she
still be proud of me then? My stomach tightened.
“Did you get to watch the competition today?” I asked, forcing myself
to meet my own eyes in the mirror.
“Oh sweetie, I couldn’t get off work until about midway through, but I
watched the end and I’ve been looking up clips online since then. You were
amazing, Brie. The top spot in all four events! I can’t believe it!”
I smiled at my reflection. She wasn’t exaggerating. Qualifications had
been a breeze, almost too easy. I’d woken up at the sound of my alarm,
refreshed and ready to tackle the day. The lines for the food court weren’t
extraordinarily long, and I’d even managed to snag a seat on the shuttle to
the arena that hadn’t yet begun to stink of other athletes’ BO.
I’d waltzed into the arena with my competition gear on and my bun so
tightly secured to my head I feared my scalp would never be the same.
There was a short opening ceremony and then each event flew by quicker
than I could have imagined. I thought of how for the past thirteen years, the
hours in the gym seemed to drag, yet now they whizzed by with each blink
of an eye. Fortunately, my teammates and I had come in first during the
qualification round and now we had two days to rest before team and
individual finals started. Even just thinking the word gave me hives: finals.
Fi-nals. Ugh. Qualifications were one thing. That day, the scores hadn’t
counted beyond earning a spot for finals. No medals were handed out at the
end, nor were any anthems played, so in a way, it hadn’t felt real.
 Maybe that’s the only reason you competed as well as you did. Finals
will be different.
I shivered and brushed the thought away, finally hearing my mom again
on the other end of the phone line. She’d been rambling on about the
highlight clips she’d watched from qualifications and I felt a little bad for
tuning her out.
“When I get home, Mom, you should take some time off. We both
deserve a vacation.”
“Oh Brie, don’t worry about that right now.”
Was she kidding? Making her life better was the only thing I cared
about. And Erik. And alleyways. And Erik pushing me into alleyways…
“Promise me you’ll only worry about doing your best during team
finals. Just go out there and have fun.”
I promised her I would and told her I loved her before I hung up, staring
at my phone in my hands. My life back home in Texas was always there,
lodged in the back of my mind…right beside Erik. I groaned, annoyed that
my brain couldn’t filter the thoughts of him.
I had no clue what was going on between us. A normal relationship
progressed rationally, with first dates and first kisses and first times staying
the night. Erik and I had none of the above. We had whispered secrets and
sweaty yoga studios and other memories that made my toes curl.
It was utter insanity, all of it. And yet, I wanted more.

LEXI WANTED TO celebrate the fact that we were finished with

qualifications at a club downtown. I believe her exact words were, “LET
ME DANCE, BITCH.” She swore it would be safe for us to go because the
Brazilian soccer team had shut it down for the night, making it exclusive to
Olympic athletes. Even still, we couldn’t convince the rest of the girls to tag
along. They scampered off with lame excuses and I didn’t care to push them
to come with us. If Molly wanted to giggle over the phone with Duncan,
fine with me. I didn’t want to be held back. I wanted to get lost in the night,
celebrate how well we’d done earlier that day, and forget about the stress
that would greet me as soon as I woke up in the morning.
Lexi held my hand as we flashed our athlete badges and slipped into the
bar. The place was called Sete Pecados Mortais and as we crossed the
threshold, it looked like we were stepping right into the depths of hell. The
decor was dark and plush, and the lights were dimmed, casting the room in
red light. The place was completely packed and while we’d had to flash our
badges to get in, it was clear athletes weren’t the only VIPs to gain entry.
No, the woman in front of me who I vaguely recognized as a Victoria’s
Secret Angel probably wasn’t going to be hurling a javelin the next day.
“Ladies, check in here first,” a bouncer called from the side of the foyer.
He was standing behind a small counter with a clipboard in his hands.
“We already showed our badges,” Lexi protested.
He nodded. “This is where you check your cellphones.”
My eyes widened. “Cell phones?”
“There are two hundred people in here who would prefer their night
stayed private. No Snapchat, no Twitter, no Instagram.”
It made sense—we all wanted a night out of the public eye—but I
resisted giving mine up. To be honest, I liked the idea of having it nearby,
just in case Erik wanted to check in…something he liked to do um,
NEVER. But still… He’d been back in coaching mode during
qualifications, treating me like the other gymnasts. I craved his touch and I
knew he was probably growing restless too. It’d been four days since the
alley and I was hungry for more.
“Brie?” Lexi called over her shoulder as she handed the bouncer her
phone and retrieved a ticket she could use to claim it at the end of the night.
I fought off the urge to text Erik and instead, I handed my phone over to the
bouncer. It wasn’t like he would reply anyway.
Lexi giggled with excitement and strung her arm through mine, leading
us farther into the club. I wished I could match her mood, but I couldn’t
bring a smile to my face—not when I was thinking about Erik, wondering
what he was doing with his free time. I was in the club to celebrate, but I
wanted him to be there with me. I wanted us to disappear into the dim
lighting together, and just the idea of being with him on the dance floor
made my palms sweat.
Lexi pointed toward a small partitioned area to our left. “I think that
sign on the wall says ‘gluttony’ in Portuguese.”
I nodded and took in the rest of the club. It was laid out like a giant
circle divided into six sections, each one dedicated to a different sin: pride,
envy, wrath, gluttony, sloth, and greed. Apparently Sete Pecados Mortais
was Portuguese for seven deadly sins.
“Where’s lust?” I asked, tipping onto my toes to see over the crowd.
Lexi smiled as she pointed at the stage that jutted out from the side wall
and stretched to the center of the room. There was a pole positioned there,
with a beautiful woman circling around it, giving the crowd quite a show.
Sensuality hung in the air around her and I smiled slowly, taking her in for
myself. Lust.
“Good thing Rosie didn’t come,” I said, turning back to Lexi as she
gave the bartender our drink order.
She laughed. “This would have scarred her for life.”
 I’d borrowed a white mini-dress from Lexi for the night. It was slinky
and sexy, cut off midway down my thigh, and its low back made it
impossible to pair it with a bra. I felt scandalous with so little clothing on,
but everyone else in the club was wearing the same or less.
I’d kept my hair twisted up in a bun on top of my head, wanting it off
my shoulders, but with it pinned up I felt even more vulnerable, almost like
I couldn’t escape the stares of the men we passed.
“Here,” Lexi said, passing a drink back to me at the bar.
I took a sip of it. “Fruity.”
She shrugged. “I told him to go easy on the alcohol.”
I nodded. “Smart.”
I wanted to have a fun night, but getting drunk wasn’t a good idea with
practice so early the next day and team finals the day after.
We stepped away from the bar so other patrons could slip in and order
drinks.
“We’ve got room right here, ladies,” a deep voice called from our left.
I turned over my shoulder to take in the group of guys beckoning to us.
The one in the very center was watching me with a curious smile and I
recognized him right away: Owen Long, U.S. Olympic soccer player and
all-around playboy. The last time I’d seen his face, it’d been gracing the
cover of ESPN.
I glanced to Lexi to get her opinion and she shrugged, shooting me a We
might as well look.
For the last few days, I’d complained to my teammates about how I
hadn’t really experienced the Olympic Village; it looked like tonight, Lexi
and I would finally get our chance.
We walked toward their booth and the guys stood and shuffled around
until Lexi and I found ourselves smack-dab in the center. I sat down and felt
Owen’s attention on me. He was sitting to my right and our thighs brushed
together as I scooted in close to make room for Lexi on my other side.
“Hi,” I said with a small smile.
“Owen,” he said, holding his hand to his chest for a second before
reaching out to shake mine. It felt formal and weird, but I went with it
anyway.
I nodded. “I’m Brie.”
His gaze raked down my body. “I like this dress you’re wearing, Brie.”
I adjusted on my seat, trying to pull the hem down another inch. Owen
caught on to what I was doing and I glanced up from beneath my lashes in
time to see him wiping away the smirk from his face before he leaned
forward and reached for his drink.
“You’re a soccer player, right?”
He nodded. “Correct. And you…” His gaze was on my legs again.
“Look like a ballerina.”
“I’m a gymnast.”
I could see the appreciation in his eyes, like I was going to straddle him
right there in the booth. It should have bothered me, but it didn’t.
“How old are you?” I asked, studying his blond hair, buzzed short.
“Twenty-two.”
Young compared to Erik.
He didn’t bother asking my age, just leaned forward to refill his drink
from the bottle service on the table and then turned to his buddy, all but
ignoring me. I turned to talk to Lexi, but she was somehow already
involved in a deep conversation with another one of the soccer players, a
goofy looking guy with spiked hair and wide eyes who seemed five drinks
past sober.
 “You mean you FLIP OVER THE BARS?” he asked as if she were
trying to convince him of something otherworldly.
I didn’t want any part of the conversation, so I sat back against the
booth and stared out at the crowd. I took my time sipping my drink, hoping
it would last longer than it did. Owen was there right as I swallowed the last
drop. He didn’t ask, just grabbed my cup and refilled it with a mixture of
vodka and cranberry juice—well, a mixture was putting it lightly. There
were 10 parts vodka to every splash of cranberry.
I smiled and took it as he handed it back to me, reminding myself to
keep it away from my mouth unless I wanted to be carted out of the club
unconscious.
“To winning,” he said, clinking his glass with mine and then offering
me a seductive smirk. “Drink up.”
He was cute, really cute. He had those sharp features that drive women
crazy, and with that thought, I took a sip of the nasty drink, resisting the
urge to spit it out.
“Jesus.”
“I’m not a religious guy, but sure, we can toast to ol’ JC too.” He
laughed.
“No, it’s the drink.” I coughed. “Is it supposed to strip my throat on the
way down?”
He threw his arm behind my head, scooted closer to me, and dropped
his voice. “No, but I’m glad you brought up stripping.”
His finger hit my shoulder, slowly brushing back and forth along the
strap of my dress. His gaze was on my lips and my tongue reached out to
wet them just before I heard my name.
“Brie!”
 I turned to the familiar voice and found Noah standing in front of the
booth with an easy smile.
“Noah?”
It was strange seeing him in a setting like this; he didn’t belong there. I
hadn’t seen him since the gymnastics mixer that first night in Rio. He
stepped forward, took in Owen’s hand on my shoulder with a curious stare,
and then smiled wider. “How long have you been here?”
I shrugged and the gesture pushed Owen’s hand an inch lower on my
arm. “Only a few minutes.”
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked, ignoring the glass in my hand.
Owen chuckled. “She’s got more than she can handle already.”
He rolled back on his heels. “Right.”
I felt like the shiniest toy on the playground with both of their attention
on me.
“Want to sit with us?” I asked, pointing to the tiny patch of booth left
near the edge.
He glanced back across the bar. “I should probably get back to my
friends.”
I nodded.
“Come find me later?” he asked, tilting his head and offering a smile.
He looked so sweet standing there; I couldn’t say no.
“Yeah, I will.”
He nodded and spun around to weave his way back through the club,
and the moment he disappeared, Owen turned his full attention to me, as if
all of a sudden, I was worth the trouble of real effort.
“You’re the most gorgeous girl in this place,” he said, bending low to
whisper the words in my ear.
 A shiver ran down my spine when his warm breath hit the side of my
neck.
“Don’t go find him later. Stay with me.”
His words were seductive and possessive, but he wasn’t the reason my
body was growing warm. No, I barely remembered to mutter a response to
him as the crowd parted and gave me a view of the woman dancing on
stage. Lust. She was young and sexy, wearing a black corset and matching
panties that showed off her remarkable body. She dipped and swayed,
casting a spell on everyone within a twenty-foot radius. Their attention was
on her, their mouths wide and their eyes wider.
She was a sexual creature from head to toe. She owned her body and
used it to tempt everyone around her, including me. Watching her wasn’t
like being around Kira though; no, I didn’t want to touch Lust, I wanted to
be her.
“Where are you from?” Owen asked, breaking me out of my daze.
I answered quickly before taking a long drag of my drink, ignoring the
sharp sting of vodka.
It continued on like that: him asking me questions, me barely answering
as I watched the woman dance. It didn’t take long for the idea to take root
in my mind.
I want to dance like that.
I want to be the girl on stage.
I shook my head, trying to push the idea aside. I couldn’t do that. I
shouldn’t do that.
“Is this your first time in Rio?” Owen asked, tipping more vodka into
my glass. Did he think he was being sly?
“Brie?” he asked again, trying to get my attention.
“Yes, this is my first time here.”
 The song was winding down and I glanced up in time to watch the
woman step past the curtain, disappearing backstage. In her place, a new
woman appeared, a little less beautiful and a lot less confident than her
predecessor.
I narrowed my eyes watching her, fighting back the urge to stand and
replace her.
“This place is pretty cool, isn’t it?”
Owen was running the knuckle of his middle finger up and down my
arm, trying to gain my attention. Couldn’t he tell how bored I was? How
badly I wanted out of this booth?
“Where are you going?” Lexi asked.
My body had moved on its own. I was standing.
“Oh, umm…I need to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
She frowned, not quite believing me.
“Do you want company?” she asked.
“No.”
I slid past her, ignoring Owen’s protests.
The stage was about to be empty again and it was beckoning me
forward with its hazy red glow.
“Brie,” Noah said, reaching out for my hand as I brushed through the
crowd. Apparently he hadn’t gone back to his friends. He’d been waiting
for me and I bristled at the thought. I wasn’t his responsibility.
“Where are you going?!” he shouted over the crowd.
He’d find out soon enough.
Although the décor inside the club suggested that it represented hell, I
understood now that it wasn’t a place for us to pay for our sins. It was a
cathedral in which to celebrate them.
 The second dancer walked off the stage, and I knew I only had a
moment to act. The stage was a few feet off the ground, tall enough that I
had to push up using my hands like I was getting out of a pool. The crowd
cheered as I swung one leg up and then the other. They assumed I was a
drunk girl about to make a fool of myself for their enjoyment.
“Oh shit, this is going to be good.”
“Dude, I bet she’s shitfaced.”
The song pouring through the speakers faded out as a new one started. I
swayed my hips, getting a feel for the music. It was a song I recognized and
loved: “You Don’t Own Me” by Grace, featuring G-Eazy. How fucking
fitting.
“Brie, what are you doing? C’mon, get down,” Noah said with an
admonishing tone from the end of the stage.
He was reaching up for me, all but horrified to see me up there.
Poor little Noah. What would he say if he knew the ways in which Erik
had corrupted me? I smirked at the thought. He’d run screaming for the
hills. Noah needed to learn what women wanted, and the song playing
overhead only emphasized that point.
I walked backward to the pole with a seductive smile. A few low
whistles from the crowd egged me on, but Noah stood there with crossed
arms. When I reached behind me for the pole, he tugged a hand through his
hair, exasperated.
Dancing on stage at a club this packed wasn’t for the faint of heart. I
had hundreds of eyes on me, and though phones were prohibited, word
would surely still spread through the village. Brie Watson danced on stage.
Brie Watson spun around the pole and…dare I say…she enjoyed it. I’d deny
it all of course. Without proof, there was nothing they could do, no real
story to sell to the press.
 I used my hands to steady my upper body as my hips swayed back and
the forth. The cold metal hit my backside every time I moved, reminding
me of where I was, what I was doing.
I owed a lot to my early years of ballet—my balance, rhythm, and
flexibility. Sure, my mom had enrolled me in those classes with the purest
of intentions, but as I rolled my hips and slid down that pole, I smiled. I
knew my body and I knew how to use it to my advantage. Usually I was
performing for judges with crossed arms and hard stares. Up on that stage, I
was performing for hungry eyes. Every time I caught a mouth gaping or
eyes doing a double take, it spurred me on. Owen’s words replayed in my
head.
You’re the most gorgeous girl in this club.
“Brie, get down,” Noah insisted.
I slipped a hand from the pole and ran it down my body from my neck
to my navel. Even though my hand was small and gentle, I closed my eyes
and pretended it was Erik’s. He knew how to touch me. He knew how to
make me beg for more. I wondered what he would do if he saw me up on
that stage, running my hand up my thigh for everyone to see, and when I
opened my eyes, I saw him.
Erik.
My gut clenched as I blinked twice, trying to ensure he wasn’t just a
figment of my imagination. He was a few yards away, standing in the
middle of the crowd and watching me. I paused for a moment, faltering on
my heels, and then his eyes smoldered in a silent challenge.
He wasn’t going to rip me from the stage and he wasn’t going to
admonish me for being up there. He wanted to celebrate the wicked
sensuality I craved, and it was up there, on the stage that I saw a piece of
myself reflected back to me in Erik. We were so similar, he and I.
 The sleeves of his black button-down were rolled to his elbows and I
took in his strong forearms as I dipped down the pole, slowly spreading my
knees wide. My dress hiked up my thighs, but my panties covered me as
much as my leotards did.
Noah’s head nearly exploded, but Erik stepped closer, weaving through
the crowd to get to me.
My stomach fluttered as I stood back up and spun around the pole,
pressing up onto my tiptoes and then letting my head fall back as I dipped
into a backbend. The red haze lingered overhead, casting my skin in
devilish light. I stood back up and spun around, pressed my back to the
pole, and met Erik’s gaze again as I trailed my fingertips up the sides of my
body. My skin tingled beneath my touch. I stroked my neck and collarbone,
and then I tugged on the strap of my dress, toying with it.
Every time I moved, I caught Erik’s eyes. Like a pendulum, I’d swing
away for a moment, but I always came back to him, finding him in the
crowd and using him as an anchor. There were hundreds of people watching
me, but I was dancing for him, teasing him with my fingers on the hem of
my dress, tugging it an inch higher on my thigh. I could feel my nipples
tighten against the silky material and I wanted it gone. I wanted to slip out
of the straps and let the material slide down my body.
Erik tilted his head, taking me in with a heated gaze, that hint of a smirk
still playing on his lips. I wanted to slide off the stage and steal those lips,
push them down my stomach and feel them between my thighs.
I swore he could hear my thoughts spiraling through me because he
stepped even closer, coming within a few feet of the stage. I inhaled a shaky
breath as the hazy red light drew him in. In the light of day, he was so
handsome it hurt, but the shadowed light of that stage turned his seductive
features into something dangerous, scary. He wet his bottom lip and my
stomach quivered.
I swallowed and turned away, trying to calm my heart, but it was no use.
I knew his gaze was still on me, dragging across my back. I pictured his
eyes hitting the spot where the hem of my dress stretched across the back of
my thighs and a shiver ran down my spine. A light layer of sweat coated my
skin as I realized how much he was getting to me.
I was the one on stage.
I was the one in charge.
I won’t let him win.
With a shaky inhale, I walked to the pole and circled around it, picking
up a leg and wrapping it around the cold metal. My dress barely covered me
as I spun, and I knew the sight of me up there would drive any man insane.
I’d never stripped completely for Erik. I’d never given him full rein of my
body, but up on that stage, I was showing him everything he could have if
only he said the word. One fucking word.
And if he didn’t want to, someone else would.
I smirked and glanced over my shoulder, circling around the pole
slowly, taunting him, but when I caught sight of him the crowd, he was
backing up, letting other people push forward and overtake his spot in front
of me.
Our eyes locked for a brief moment and I could see the lust there,
building inside him. He looked hungry with it, consumed by me, and yet he
was walking away, backing up and leaving me like that, completely
exposed.
I circled the pole again, using his disappearing silhouette as my point of
focus.
 Each spin took him another foot away and sank another dagger into my
heart.
I wanted to reach out and call for him.
No.
Come back.
Please.
“Jesus, Brie,” Noah said, finally at a breaking point. He reached up to
pull me off the stage as the song faded into silence, but his hands around my
hips weren’t the right hands. His chastising tone wasn’t the right tone.
“What were you thinking?” he asked, his voice clouded in lust and
anger. “That’s not like you.”
I frowned.
He was wrong. That person up on stage, the girl brushing her hands
down her body and begging to be touched? That was only version of myself
I didn’t have to second-guess.
I looked for Erik as Noah pulled me through the crowd, turning my
head and scanning the room for blackness. I needed another glimpse of him,
one more moment to convince myself he’d actually shown up. The bar was
too crowded, too dark. I whipped my head from left to right, convinced I’d
somehow missed him. Maybe he was waiting for me at the bar or in a dark
corner of the room.
Noah kept tugging me forward until chilly night air washed over me.
Lexi was waiting for us outside on the curb and as soon as she saw me, she
broke out in a wide grin.
“YOU WERE AMAZING!” she cheered, ripping me out of Noah’s
grasp and spinning me in a circle around her.
Noah scoffed, but I let Lexi’s praise wash over me.
 “You’ve got moves, my friend,” she said, gripping my hips and pushing
them into a wide circle.
I smiled and glanced over her shoulder, catching a flash of black hair a
few yards ahead of us.
My stomach clenched as I caught sight of Erik just before he
disappeared into the back seat of a cab.
“Brie?”
My smile slowly faded as he reached out and yanked the door closed
behind him. He really was there.
So then why is he leaving without me?
“Brie, the cab is waiting for us.” I was vaguely aware of Lexi talking to
me as I watched his cab pull away from the curb. “We should really get
back to the village since we have practice early.”
She pushed me toward our own cab and talked my ear off about my
dancing, about how everyone had “FREAKED OUT” when I’d climbed on
stage. I wasn’t paying attention to her. I was too busy staring out at the dark
night and wishing it had ended differently.
“That club was insane,” she said, jostling my arm to get my attention.
“It really felt like we were in hell, didn’t it?”
I nodded. More than I care to admit. I’d been intoxicated in the
moment, dancing for the devil himself, and now that it was over, I felt
nothing but burned.
CHAPTER THIRTY

Brie

IT WAS EASY to blame Erik for the darkness I felt when I was near him,
but my fantasies were all my own. He wasn’t poisoning the well; he was
drawing from it. At times, I wondered if he knew me better than I knew
myself. It felt like he’d split open my chest and pulled out my heart,
watching it beat for him—only him. We didn’t know the little things about
one another. He couldn’t say how I took my coffee or which cereal I
preferred in the morning, but he spoke my body’s language as if he’d spent
years studying it. I’d only been around him for a little over a month, and yet
I couldn’t fathom the idea of living without him.
After the Olympics were over, I’d get on a plane back to Texas and I’d
slink back into my old life—well, my new old life. I’d spend time with my
mom, find a part-time job, and apply to college. I’d smile at boys my own
age and attempt to date, deluding myself into thinking they could ever
measure up to Erik. No one could give me what he gave me.
Freedom.
Just the night before, Noah had freaked out when I took that stage. To
him, it was wrong, unchaste, and out of character, but Erik understood that
character is never absolute, and it was useless to try to cap the well of
darkness once I’d unearthed it.
 I smoothed a hand over my chest, feeling the ache there. I wanted him
in a way that hurt, and the more I let myself consider life without him, the
worse I felt. After the games, he would also return to his old life. In Seattle.
I forced myself to picture the women he’d bring back to his house, the
lucky ones who’d make it up to his bed. Jealousy burned through me when I
imagined his hands on their thighs, his lips on their skin. They might
scream louder or moan with exaggerated ecstasy, but they wouldn’t
appreciate him the way I did. He wouldn’t consume them the way he
consumed me.
The morning after Sete Pecados Mortais, I woke up earlier than the rest
of my teammates, wide awake and ready to make some changes. Erik had
left the club on his own. He could have stayed, but he’d left, and I knew I
couldn’t continue on the path I was heading down. I’d competed well the
day before, but I couldn’t let myself feel comfortable this early. I needed to
focus my energies on gymnastics for the next five days or I’d go home with
nothing to show for more than a decade of training but a broken heart and a
bare neck.
If I couldn’t have Erik, I could still have gold.
The men’s gymnastics team was competing in the HSBC Arena later
that day, so after I changed into practice clothes and grabbed a protein bar, I
headed to the smaller training facility they’d set up for us to use between
competition days. It was housed in a building right beside the arena, so I
hopped on the first outbound shuttle from the village and took a seat near
the back. Everyone onboard was sleepy and quiet, coaches headed out early
or athletes on their way to practice. I recognized a few members of the U.S.
women’s soccer team across the aisle from me. One of them—a pretty
blonde—had a tight wrap around her wrist, and I cringed thinking of how
agonizing it would be to get injured smack-dab in the middle of the
Olympics. She brushed a strand of short hair out of her face and caught me
watching her. I nodded a quiet hello and she smiled.
“Did that happen during a game?” I asked, pointing to the injury.
She glanced down at the wrap and frowned. “Yeah, diving to block a
shot. It was a few days ago.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
She shrugged. “It’ll be okay. I should still be able to play in the finals.”
Her teammate beside her grunted in disbelief.
“Are you a gymnast?” she asked, eyeing my gym bag on the seat beside
me. “I didn’t see you during the opening ceremonies.”
I nodded. “Yeah, they had us go to a little gymnastics mixer instead.”
She smiled. “You didn’t miss out on much. We all had to wear these
hideous red jumpsuits.”
“They were cute!” her teammate cut in, defending the designer.
The shuttle pulled up in front of my stop and I stood to exit.
“I hope your wrist feels better,” I said, tipping my head in her direction.
“For the final.”
She nodded and smiled. “Thanks. Good luck.”
I walked off the shuttle and pulled open the door to the practice gym.
The place was still dark; apparently I was the only gymnast who wanted to
wake up at the crack of dawn the day after qualifications. I appreciated the
quiet though, because it meant I wouldn’t have to put on a fake smile for
anyone.
I flipped the light switch near the door and fluorescent lights stuttered
on overhead. Every gym has the same familiar smell of stale air. I settled
into the space, feeling a calm roll over me. Soon the place would be packed
with other gymnasts, but for a while I hoped I would remain alone.
 I dropped my bag near the door, stripped off my extra layers, and rolled
out my shoulders as I walked around the space. Early morning light
streamed in through dusty windows, highlighting the row of beams in the
corner of the room. I stepped toward them and felt the worn leather beneath
my fingers. The beams were old, tearing near the ends and stained from
years of chalk and bare feet. After stretching out for a few minutes, I
hopped up and eased into my practice, finding my balance.
I loved that familiar tension in my body; I was a tight spring about to
pop open, so much more powerful than I gave myself credit for. I stood on
one side of the beam and strung together three back handsprings, listening
to the rhythm of my hands and feet hitting the beam in a steady cadence.
The sound calmed my nerves as I landed and arched back, lifting my arms
in a V.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been alone in a gym, not
performing for anyone. I was practicing for myself, taking Kira’s advice to
trust my body and putting it to good use. I spun on my heel, stretched my
arms overhead, and dipped into another tumbling pass.
Gymnastics is the sport with a strong marriage between body and mind.
Your body hesitates in fear and cries out in pain while your mind wills it to
push beyond what should be possible. The only thing separating good
gymnasts from great gymnasts is the ability to overcome that fear. I’d
realized that very early on in Texas, while learning how to do an aerial and
being too scared to pick my hands up off the ground. I was seven at the
time.
“It’s just a cartwheel with no hands,” my coach insisted. “Bend your
knee hard and go for it.”
“I can’t,” I cried, nerves eating away at me.
“You can!” he boomed, rattling my fears. “Try!”
 I couldn’t explain the roadblock in front of me, the fear trying to weave
its way through my body. Don’t do this. You could get hurt. Play it safe.
“Try Brie. TRY.”
It’d taken two days and a whole lot of tears before I’d finally picked my
hands up off the floor. I’d eaten shit, hard, but I hadn’t given up. A week
later, I could do an aerial in my sleep.
At this point, I had the skills. I’d done them a million times over. The
trouble came when I considered the fact that I’d never done them on an
Olympic stage. The pressure had gotten to me a bit the day before, but I
knew finals would be so much harder. The only thing I could do was trust
my body and conquer my fears.
By the early afternoon, I’d worked through the skills I thought might
give me trouble the next day. For every three skills I stuck perfectly, I got a
water break and a few minutes of stretching on the floor. Gymnasts slowly
started to trickle in, but we didn’t talk. We carved out our own space in the
gym and stayed there.
I was gently moving through my floor routine, marking the tumbling
passes, when Erik walked in with the rest of my team. Rosie, Molly, and
Lexi smiled and waved when they saw me, but I finished marking my
routine before walking over to meet them.
“How long have you been here?” Molly asked, eyeing the chalk staining
my navy blue leotard.
I shrugged. “A while.”
She nodded. “I would have come with you, y’know.”
“I know.”
I just needed some space—from the team, from Erik, from everything.
Too bad I wasn’t going to get it.
 Erik turned his attention to me and his blue eyes were as sharp as
knives. His hair was tousled and his gray shirt was tight enough to display
the defined slope of his chest and shoulders. My stomach clenched with
nerves. I wanted to ask him where he’d gone the night before. I wanted to
ask him what he’d thought of my performance and most of all, I wanted to
know why he’d left me there, why he hadn’t taken me with him.
“What have you worked on already?” he asked, his voice even and
calm.
I moved my gaze over his shoulder. “Everything.”
He nodded. “Go back to the village then; I don’t want you getting hurt
before tomorrow.”
“I’m not done yet.”
“Brie.”
He was already annoyed, which meant his fuse was even shorter than
normal.
I turned and threw my next sentence over my shoulder. “I’m going to
eat lunch, but I’m coming back after that.”
I took the shuttle back to the village and ate in the food court on the first
floor of the athlete complex. There were athletes everywhere, and most of
the tables were already taken by the time I slid into a spare seat in the
corner. I scarfed down my grilled chicken and vegetables, starved after my
morning workout. Erik didn’t want me to work too hard, but I wanted to go
through a few more routines before I called it a day.
By the time I made it back to the training complex, it was late
afternoon. Most of the gymnasts were trickling out, done for the day. I
passed Lexi and Rosie on my way back inside.
“There you are,” Rosie said, smiling tentatively.
“You good, Watson?” Lexi asked.
 I stared past them to where June and Molly stood near the vault talking
to Erik. “I’m fine. Just needed to train solo today.”
Lexi nodded. “I was watching you earlier. You looked really good.”
I inhaled her words and finally turned to face them. I could see the
hidden worry there; they weren’t sure if I was cracking under the stress or
just focused. Hell, I wasn’t sure myself. “Thanks.”
Rosie reached out for my hand. “Will we see you back at the condo
soon? We were going to hang out and take it easy before tomorrow.”
“Yeah, definitely.” I forced a fake smile. “Save me some room on the
couch.”
She smiled as she released my hand, and a flood of nerves replaced her
warmth.
The next day, the top five countries were slotted to compete in team
finals. All five teams were good, and unfortunately there hadn’t been a clear
winner after qualifications. We’d placed first, but only by the skin of our
teeth, which meant the next day, every single event and every single routine
would be a battlefield. Out of the five gymnasts on our team, only four were
competing in each event. Of those, only three scores counted. I was one of
the gymnasts picked to compete in every event, which meant I had the
weight of the team on my back. If I bobbled on beam even once, if I took a
step on vault, if I stepped out of bounds on floor, it could cost Team USA
the gold.
I tried not to think about the possibility for error as I stashed my bag in
the same spot where I’d left it earlier that morning. There was no going
back. If I even opened the door a crack, it’d be game over. The stress would
eat me alive.
I felt Erik’s presence behind me before I glanced up and saw him
standing near me. He was checking his phone near the cubbies. He scrolled
through something and then locked the screen, turning to me. His head
tilted to the side, studying me for a moment. I turned away.
“Are you heading back with the team?” I asked, nodding to where Rosie
and June were gathering their bags.
“It’s up to you. As long as you’re here, I’ll stay.”
I stood to meet his eye, hating the height difference between us. It felt
like I could never quite be on his level. He would always overpower me,
just like he had the night before.
“I just want to work through my bar and beam routines a few more
times.”
He nodded. “I’ll set the bars. Grab your grips.”
I tugged off my clothes and adjusted my leotard, reaching into my bag
for my worn grips. By the time I turned and headed for the bars, Erik was
standing, watching me with his arms crossed. There was a darkness
clouding his gaze as I stepped up to join him on the far side of the gym.
I expected him to move aside and tell me to get warmed up, but instead,
he held my gaze, tilted his head, and asked a question.
“Why are you here right now?”
I frowned, confused. “To practice.”
“Why?”
The silence in the empty gym was deafening.
“Because I want us to place first tomorrow.”
“Why?”
I narrowed my eyes and propped my hands on my hips. “Why?” Why
was he doing this? He needed to step aside and let me get started. “Because
who doesn’t want to win gold?”
He shook his head. “You’re hiding something. You’re carrying the
weight of the world on your shoulders. I know the difference between being
nervous and being absolutely terrified to fail. So why? Why are you the
latter?”
My throat tightened, constricting my airways. I didn’t want to talk about
this. I wanted to slip my grips into place and take the bars, push the rest to
the side. “Maybe I just have a little more riding on this competition than
other people do.”
“Tell me.”
He stepped closer, blocking my path. He looked like an immovable
force, a brick house I had no hope of blowing down. I rolled my eyes and
turned away.
“Why don’t you just mind your own business?” His probing was
starting to piss me off. I was trying to silence my nerves, not give them a
microphone. “We’re not friends. We’re nothing. So just let me finish
practicing so I can go home.”
His thumb hit my chin as he tilted my head up. His blue eyes met mine
and I flinched at the anger I saw there.
“You think you’re nothing? You think I wanted to leave you in that club
last night?”
He sounded pissed.
“How would I know? It’s not like you ever talk to me. You’re
impossible to read and I’m sick of trying. For the next few days, I just need
to focus on gymnastics.”
His gaze flitted back and forth between my eyes, trying to burrow
through to the root of my issues. I had to resist though, because digging
would only leave scars. I needed us to continue to walk the tightrope for
now, where we didn’t talk about life and love, just fucked when we couldn’t
resist the urge any longer—anything more than that and I wouldn’t be able
to walk away in a week. He’d break me completely in two.
 His face tipped forward as his finger skimmed along my bottom lip.
“Talk to me.”
I tried to turn my head away, to regain some semblance of composure,
but he wouldn’t let me. His grip was too tight on my chin and then on my
waist, pulling me against his chest. My leotard and his t-shirt were the only
things separating our two bodies, but it felt like nothing. I could feel every
move of his muscles, every inhale and exhale as he hugged me close.
“I know for you, gymnastics has been everything for so long you feel
like when it all ends, you’ll have nothing.”
I turned my head. “That’s not it.”
“I’m not finished. I know about your life back home. I can guess you
think this is your one shot to pull yourself up and give your family some
security. You can’t put that on your shoulders, Brie.”
I tried to jerk away. “Don’t make me out to be some kind of victim or
martyr. I don’t want your pity; I just want you to help me win. Isn’t that
your job?”
“Brie.”
He bent forward and skimmed his lips against mine, chipping away at
my armor. My body arched into him, needing more. The need to be near
him was a subconscious response, as necessary as breathing.
“You have to clear your head and make the decision: do you want to
win for your mom, or for yourself? It’s not your job to take on her pain.”
A tear hit his thumb before I realized I’d started to cry.
It’d been years since I’d cried about this. I buried my feelings so deep
down, they never saw the light of day. I focused on gymnastics and pushed
the rest aside, but Erik was there, forcing me to feel them, and suddenly it
was too much.
 My mother had been my rock, my everything. She woke up at the crack
of dawn, served others all day, and then she was there after school every
day, for me. She bought all her clothes at secondhand shops or just took
hand-me-downs from friends. She never dated, never went out. She was a
beautiful woman and she deserved happiness, companionship, affection, but
there was no time for any of that, not while she was busy allowing me to
live my dream.
“I’m here,” he promised, bending low to kiss away the tears on my
cheeks. “And you are too. That’s all that matters right now. During the
finals, make it your intention to compete for yourself—for all the sweat
you’ve spilled, the skin you’ve torn, and the muscles you’ve battered and
made stronger.”
I turned to his palm and pressed my lips there, accepting his kindness.
“You don’t owe your mom anything. You can’t carry that burden. Do it
for you.”
I let my head fall back and closed my eyes. When I opened them, the
lights in the gym twinkled like gaudy costume jewelry through my tears,
and my mother’s diamond necklace flashed into my memory. It was the one
nice thing she’d held on to over the years. She’d kept it in a tiny broken
jewelry box on the dresser in our bedroom. I remembered opening the top
of the box as a young child, fingering the diamond hanging on the end.
“That was a present from your grandmother before she passed away,”
my mother told me one time, after she’d caught me snooping. She smiled
and pulled it out of the box, laying it flat across my chest. The diamond
glimmered in the light and my eyes grew wide.
It was the most beautiful thing we’d ever owned and she’d hawked it at
a pawn shop so she could pay overdue gymnastics fees. I’d found the
jewelry box empty, and when I’d asked her about it, I’d seen a glint of
sadness in her eye for the first time—but of course she never admitted she
was sad to part with the necklace.
“Oh, that thing was old and silly. When would I even need to wear a
thing like that? I’m not Cinderella.” She laughed as she stood in front of
our stove, opening up a can of tuna fish.
My heart broke all over again, thinking of her parting with the one
reminder of her old life.
“I just want to give her back everything she gave me.”
“Brie.” He bent low and gripped my neck in his hand, enveloping me in
a soul-crushing hug. “You already have,” he said, trying to ease my gaze
back to him. I squeezed my eyes shut and crushed my face into his chest. I
didn’t want to talk about this anymore. I didn’t want to give him this piece
of me, this piece I’d never given anyone before.
He didn’t fight me; he squeezed me against him and for a few moments,
all I had to focus on was the steady sound of his breathing, his warm breath
spilling down my neck.
He surrounded me, enveloping me in the tenderness I craved from him.
He was usually so closed off, and this soft side of him was fleeting; I knew
that, and I wanted to steal as much of his sweetness as I could.
I let my grips slip from my fingers and fall to the floor as my hands
dragged down his back, bringing my entire body flush with his. He stilled,
knowing what I was doing.
“Please,” I begged, skimming my hands down his back, feeling his
muscles tense beneath his soft t-shirt. He was solid against my curves, a
hard mass of tension I wanted to smooth out. His hands reached down to
grip my hips, as if he were trying to anchor himself. The pads of his fingers
brushed my bare upper thigh and a soft moan escaped my lips before I
could contain it.
 His grip tightened, branding me.
“Please,” I begged, skimming my hand down his abs. “Give me five
minutes where I don’t have to think about it. Give me this.”
He knew the truth; he knew why tomorrow wasn’t just a competition for
me, it was a lifeline for my mother and me.
I pressed up onto my tiptoes and brushed my lips across his sharp
jawline. It was shaved clean and felt soft beneath my lips. I inhaled the
scent of his body wash, that masculine smell that unwound me.
He kept his hands on my hips, tight and secure, not quite sure if he
wanted to give in. My hand moved up, slipping beneath his t-shirt and
gliding across his hard muscles. He flexed beneath my hand, trying to keep
his composure. I knew I could make him crumble, make him give in to this,
this thing we were so fucking good at.
My leotard was made of a dark blue velvet-blend, and every time the
soft material brushed against my skin, I nearly buckled under the sensation.
“I’m begging you,” I said, drawing my lips up to his ear and biting
down gently.
“Brie,” he said, his voice broken and dark.
“Touch me.”
I moved his hand from my hip and pushed it lower, brushing his fingers
over the velvety material barring me from him. I wasn’t wearing any
panties. If he wanted to, he could brush my leotard aside and slip right into
me.
The moment the palm of his hand hit the center of my thighs, a low
groan slipped out of his lips. In that moment, I was no longer in control. He
picked me up off the floor and carried me back to the row of beams in the
corner of the room. The door wasn’t locked—another gymnast or coach
could walk in at any time—but the sun was setting and the competition was
tomorrow. No one wanted to be in that room but us.
My back hit the beam and he lifted me up until I was sitting on the worn
leather. He stepped between my legs and wound his hands up around my
neck, crashing his lips to mine.
His kisses stole my breath and I tried to keep up, running my hands up
his arms to balance myself on the beam, but it was no use. His mouth was
on me, in me, stealing me. His tongue glided over mine and I tilted my hips
forward to brush myself against the front of his pants.
He backed up, knowing exactly what I was doing. An inch away and
suddenly I had nothing, no heat to ease the desire threatening to swallow
me whole.
His lips left mine and I fluttered my eyes open to see him taking another
step back, then another. He was still close enough to reach out and grab, but
he was putting space between us, raking his gaze down my body. My chest
rose and fell. My breasts strained against the top of my leotard as I waited
for his next move. I’d put myself out there. I’d danced for him the night
before and now I was baring my soul for him.
“Spread your knees,” he said, pushing his palm between my legs so I
was forced to open them for him.
The velvet brushed against the inside of my thighs as I adjusted on the
beam, and I bit down on my bottom lip to keep myself from whimpering.
He smirked, taking me in from his vantage point.
He ran his hand along my jaw, examining me.
“You make me crazy,” he said, his eyes on my chest and then lower,
down between my legs. “You know that?”
I swallowed.
“Watching you up on that stage last night…”
 He closed his eyes for a second as if replaying the memory for himself.
“Had you done that before?”
I shook my head, trying to catch my breath, but it was no use; my chest
was tight, filled with dark fantasies.
He wrapped his hand around my left ankle. “This body is the only thing
I dream about…the way you move for me, taunting me. Everyone in that
crowd prayed they were the one you were dancing for.” His hand slid up my
leg, around my knee, pushing my legs open even wider. The outsides of my
knees hit the beam and I swallowed, knowing what I looked like to him. I
was on display.
His sensual mouth tipped up on the right side as he stepped close and
glided his fingers up the inside of my thigh to the few inches of leotard
protecting me from him.
He curled his finger, brushing his knuckle against me, up and down. Up
and down. It was hardly there at all. I squeezed my eyes closed and tipped
my head back, trying to hang on to the tiny sparks spreading from where his
knuckle brushed against me.
His other hand wound around my neck, keeping me from tipping all the
way back. He pressed a line of kisses down my neck until he hit the top of
my leotard.
I’d been whispering, begging for more without realizing it. He slipped a
finger underneath the soft material that arced along my side and traced the
path of my hip bone from front to back. After his knuckle slowly completed
its course, he paused, letting the sensation build.
“Like this?” he asked, finally hooking a finger around the thin front of
my leotard and pulling it to the side.
My stomach quivered and my breathy moans came out shaky and wild.
There was no stopping the sensations rolling through me. He’d lit the fuse
and I was so close to going up in flames. My cheeks flushed with how little
he had to do, how easy it was for him to bend me to his will.
His middle finger slid inside me, bringing my wetness up around my
clit, circling it until I was clenching my thighs around him, trying to steal
back control. It was too much. I was going to shatter.
When his finger sunk inside me again, his lips connected with my breast
beneath my leotard, using the velvet material to tease me. I squeezed my
eyes closed so tight it hurt and when my fingers went numb, I realized I’d
been gripping the beam beside my hips, trying to hang on for dear life.
I glanced down, taking in my white knuckles before I moved up and
gripped his biceps.
“More,” I begged.
He was so hard inside his jeans. I stared down at him, nearly bursting
against his zipper as he dragged his finger in and out of me possessively.
“First, I want you to come like this…” He wasn’t meeting my eye; he
was staring down, watching the way my body reacted to him.
“Can you do that for me, baby?”
With the way his finger was dipping inside me, he didn’t need to ask. I
could feel myself clench around him, getting so close, but I hung on, trying
to extend those little bursts of pleasure that came before I fell off the edge.
They were pure seduction.
“You’re so fucking tight. I know you’re close.”
He added another finger and I lost balance. He leaned me against his
chest and I glanced down, watching his fingers slip in and out. He liked me
watching and kept his grip around my neck so I couldn’t look away from
what he was doing to my body.
“Let go,” he demanded, curling his fingers inside me and rubbing my
clit with his thumb until I shuddered against him
 “Erik,” I whispered, gripping his t-shirt in my fingers as my body
started to quake.
Even before I’d finished my orgasm, he was unzipping his jeans. He
ripped a condom out of his wallet, tearing open the package and reaching
down to hold himself steady so I could roll it on. I was in such a rush, about
to explode with need, but then I had him in my hand and I heard the guttural
growl that slipped past his lips. The tables were turned. I was ready to roll
the condom onto him, but I waited, stroking his length and building the heat
between my legs even more. I was so turned on, I knew I’d come again
quickly, just from his thumb swirling across me.
“I didn’t make you wait.”
I smirked.
“Maybe you need to learn a little patience,” I quipped, slowly gliding
my palm down him, resisting the urge to push forward and brush the tip of
him against me. I knew he’d feel like heaven. The second he sank into me
it’d be game over. He’d own me for good.
“Brie…”
He gripped my ponytail in his hands and tilted my head back. His
mouth hit mine hard as his hips start thrusting. He was fucking my hand and
I was going to lose my mind.
Two strokes.
Three.
Then he ripped out of my hold and positioned himself before me,
breaking our kiss to watch me as he slowly slipped in the first inch.
“Focus on this,” he moaned against my lips.
I squeezed my legs tight, trying to protect myself, but it was no use. One
of his hands was guiding him inside me and the other was pushing my legs
apart, forcing me to feel every single inch of him.
 I gripped his neck, pulling him back down for a kiss as he filled me
completely. He stilled there, letting me get used to him, but I still wasn’t
ready when he started moving. His hips were strong and he was still
standing; he had the advantage. When I asked him to slow down, to take it
easy, he took my bottom lip into his mouth and pumped his hips harder.
“Erik…”
“You need this, Brie. You begged for this.”
I was sweating, could feel the beads rolling down my body. He ripped
my hand from his neck and told me to hold open my leotard for him. It was
too late to strip it off; we’d have to make do. I hooked my finger inside it
and cried out as his thumb hit my clit.
“Hold on,” he said, squeezing my hand on his neck.
He was lifting me, pulling me off the beam and dropping me back onto
the mat with my legs spread.
His hands hit my bent knees, using them as leverage so he could roll his
hips against me.
My mouth dropped open, but there was no sound.
There was nothing.
The new angle was too much; his rhythm was too much. He was
fucking me, curling his hips, and grinding my ass into the mat with hard
strokes.
When his hand slipped between our bodies, brushing against me, there
was nothing but blackness.
I was gone.
In the stars.
“Every time I see you walk into the gym I dream of doing this. I dream
about what you look like beneath this leotard.”
 His grip on my thighs was relentless. I could feel my muscles starting to
cramp, but I breathed through it, loving the sting of pain.
“Do you dream about spreading those legs for me?”
He bent low so his next words were whispered against my ear.
“For your coach?”
My back arched off the mat, bringing him another inch deeper.
“Erik.”
He knew I got off on the fantasy, the taboo. His provocative words and
the relentless roll of his hips made the fall inevitable. He kissed every inch
of me, dragging his mouth across my nipples and teasing me as I started to
shake beneath him. I knew he liked the feeling of being inside me, but it
couldn’t compare to how I felt, how deeply he stroked me, how insane it
felt to clench around him and lose control as he pumped into me.
He groaned with pleasure and I opened my eyes, watching him find his
own release. His brows clenched. His jaw tightened and his mouth fell open
just a few millimeters so I could hear the dark groans slip out of him. It was
the single sexiest thing in the world and I didn’t blink once, trying to hold
on to the moment for as long as possible.
Erik made love to me on that gym floor. Though we’d never spoken the
words aloud, I felt it in his movements, in the way his hips rolled into me,
in the way his hands squeezed my thighs, in the way my name slipped out
of his lips. There was no denying how I felt for him in that moment. In my
dirtiest moment I felt as if I’d been washed clean. I was laid bare for Erik
and he didn’t shy away; he drew me closer and held me tight. I was so
thankful he couldn’t see my face as the tears started to spill down my
cheeks.
I was in love with the enemy.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Erik

THERE WAS A small bathroom in the back corner of the training facility;
Brie had disappeared into it a few minutes earlier and I stood staring at the
closed door, wondering what she was thinking. I’d disposed of the condom
and cleaned myself up, but Brie had been quiet after I pulled out of her,
mumbling about needing to clean up before locking herself behind the
flimsy door. I wanted to knock and make sure she was okay, but the light
flickered off and the door creaked open before I could.
She met my eye as she walked out and then glanced away, back to the
row of beams behind us.
“So I think if I do a few more routines, I should be okay.”
Her voice was distant and small, nothing like the girl who’d just come
apart underneath me.
“Routines?” I asked, furrowing my brow.
It was late. She should have already been back at the village.
She nodded and moved past me toward the bars.
I knew the last hour had gotten through to her, but instead of continuing
to confide in me, she’d gone into the bathroom and tucked her emotions
away again. She’d fixed her hair and twisted it up onto the top of her head,
but she couldn’t erase the flush covering her neck and chest. There was still
a red handprint on her thigh from where I’d been holding her as I came.
Jesus. She couldn’t just pull away like that.
“Brie, I think we should—”
She held up her hand to stop me. “Please don’t. Not right now. I
appreciate everything you said, I just…I need to work through these
routines. That’s it.”
Small, fragile Brie was carrying the world on her shoulders and
breaking my heart in the process.
“I don’t regret what just happened,” I said, trying to reassure her.
She nodded, once, and then turned away, indifferent. “I know. I need to
get back to work.”
If I hadn’t just been buried inside her, hearing her moan and beg for me
to touch her, I would have thought she despised me. This was her: hot and
cold, distant when I wanted her close, impossible to resist when she wanted
to be.
I didn’t try to push her to go home; she was struggling, and if she
wanted to finish a few more routines, I’d let her.
She adjusted her grips and took the bars, practicing a few release moves
while I stood beneath her, ready to catch her if she fell. I watched her move
across the bars, tight and in control. She looked better than she had in
weeks, relaxed and confident. I could have watched her up there for hours.
On her fourth routine, she gained momentum, spun faster and faster
around the bar, and then released up into the air in a tight ball, completing
two full turns before her feet hit the ground. No step. Perfect landing.
“Good,” I said, stepping off the mat. “You look ready.”
She brushed the chalk off her grips and nodded, no hint of a smile on
her full lips.
 After we gathered our things in silence, I caught a cab and guided her in
first. She shoved her gym bag at her feet and pulled her jacket tighter
around her, crossing her arms over her chest to keep it in place. Her gaze
was focused out on the world and the deep lines marring her forehead
proved how far she was from focusing on the competition the next day.
I stared down at my phone, trying to scroll through emails and give her
the privacy she so desperately desired, but then her small voice filled the
silent cab.
“Gold medals come with a $25,000 check. Did you know that?”
I glanced up, surprised by her voice. “Yes.”
She kept her gaze out the window. “I have six chances to place first.
That’s $150,000 up for grabs—not to mention if I come in first that many
times, companies will be knocking down my door and…well, I would
finally be in a position to help my mom.”
She sounded determined.
“But if I come in last, if I fall or stutter in the next few days, I go home
a nobody…and my mom will have sacrificed her life for nothing.”
“Brie—”
She shook her head, defiant. “I don’t expect you to understand. You hate
your family, your father.”
I reared back, shocked that she would bring him up. “For good reason.
He loved a son who could compete in the Olympics. When I was no longer
capable of that, I wasn’t worth his time.”
She glanced back to me, her eyes so full of sadness I had to look away.
“Erik…”
The cab pulled up in front of the athlete complex. I paid the driver and
hopped out after Brie, content to walk the rest of the way home.
She rounded the back of the car and tried to catch my eye.
 I swallowed past the lump in my throat. Brie deserved to know the truth,
or at the least the start of it.
“When I was seventeen, I injured my shoulder, and instead of giving me
time to rest it before the Olympics, my father gave me opioids,” I said,
turning to Brie. “For months, he filled illegal prescriptions for an injury he
didn’t have so he could pass on the pills to me. At the height of my
addiction, I was taking twice the max dose per day.” Her tiny gasp forced
me to glance back at her. There was horror in her eyes, sheer sadness. “He
thought he was doing what was best for me. When I told him I wanted to
quit, he flew off the rails.”
I told her everything, not sugarcoating the gritty details.
The same day I tried to buy drugs at 12th and Chicon, I stumbled back
into my childhood home and found my mother standing behind the kitchen
island, chopping vegetables for dinner.
“I’m quitting gymnastics,” I said.
Her knife clattered to the counter, but she recovered quickly and shook
her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. Go freshen up. Dinner will be ready soon.”
She didn’t look up long enough to see the bruising on my body. She was
always good at self-censoring the truth. She didn’t know about the pain
pills; my father and I had kept it a secret from her.
“No. I’m done.”
She shook her head. “Erik, everyone has hard days in the gym. Just go
fresh—”
“It’s not that. I’m done. I want a different life.”
“What are you talking about?”
She was so confused, so out of the loop. She didn’t know about my
depression or my addiction. I stepped toward the counter and tried to tell
her a condensed version: how my shoulder injury had led to a pill
addiction, how meaningless my life had become, how little control I had
over my present and how little care I had for my own future. I wanted to
shake her, make her see past my strong exterior. To the world, I looked like
a man on top of the world. Inside, I wanted to die.
She was shaking by the end of it—out of fear or sadness, I’ll never
know. She stared down at the cutting board, assessing the vegetables in
front of her like they would tell her how to proceed. Finally, she glanced up
and leveled me with a calm stare. “When your father gets home, I…I’ll tell
him. I think you should be out of the house.”
That gesture was the first genuine act of love from a parent I’d felt in
years.
I grabbed a backpack and stuffed it full of clothes for a few days. My
cell phone, and toothbrush were all I cared to add on top. She kissed me on
the cheek on the way out and shoved money in my hand.
“For a hotel,” she said, and I didn’t argue.
There was nowhere else to go. She knew I had no friends and the only
family I had was my grandfather, but he was a million miles away in
Sweden.
I checked into a Motel 6 a few miles away from the house and sat there
on the bed, trying to piece my life together. I had a high school degree; I
could go to college. I could study to become an aerospace engineer like my
grandfather, or maybe something different. I’d always loved the stars. I
could study astronomy and focus my attention on something bigger than
this damn earth and the greedy people inhabiting it.
For two days, I stewed in that room, waiting for a call from my mom. I
alternated between sweating in bed with brain-crushing nausea and
vomiting incessantly from withdrawals. When the cold flashes would hit, I’d
fill up the tiny tub with warm water and collapse onto the chipped enamel
surface, using all my strength to stay above the surface of the water. I didn’t
sleep for almost 60 hours, and when I finally closed my eyes on the third
day, my shrill cellphone began to ring.
My mother was crying hysterically on the other line. I could only hear
every other word, but I heard the tail end of her message loud and clear.
“Come home and gather your things.”
I was getting kicked out.
Summoning energy from the deepest parts of my being, I grabbed my
keys from the nightstand and drove to my house. I knew my detox would
never finish until I’d confronted the source of the suffering.
The sun had set a few hours earlier, but the porch light was on,
illuminating the pile of clothes and crap sitting outside on the grass.
Everything that had once been inside my room was now sitting outside,
thanks to my father. My gymnastics trophies were stuffed into a box and
medals were spilling out onto the sidewalk. Half my clothes had ended up in
the ditch, soaked through. I was bent down rifling through them, trying to
find anything of value when the front door opened.
My father stormed out of the house like a bat out of hell.
“You ungrateful piece of shit,” he shouted, running to me like he was
ready to tackle me to the ground. He’d never put a hand on me, so I didn’t
try to block his assault; I should have. When his head connected with my
stomach, I went flying back hard enough that my head split open on the
concrete. The acute sensory pain came as a relief after enduring days of
widespread dull ache. He pushed himself up with fury in his eyes.
“You think you can quit now? You think you know sacrifice, pain?”
His fist connected with my jaw and I nearly blacked out.
“I’ve worked my ass off to train you and if you’ve wasted my time, then
get the fuck out of my house.”
 His boot hit the side of my back, right above my kidney, and I squeezed
my eyes closed.
“You can’t even fight back. Can you?” he yelled, rearing back to land
another punch.
I shoved my arm in front of my head, blocking his shots as he kept
pounding his bloodied fists into me, over and over again.
Something inside me cracked that day. Maybe it was the loss of my
father or the feeling of lying on that grass with blood running down my
face, but after he wore himself out and turned his back to walk away, I felt
stronger that I’d been even before taking the pills, even before the injury. I
rose up looking like hell, but used the adrenaline coursing through my veins
as the last well I could draw from.
Even in my weakness, I towered over him when I stood to my full height.
He’d built me into this monster. I reached forward and gripped his neck,
feeling the swollen veins in my forearm bulge and strain with the effort.
I could have killed him. I wanted to kill him. He was fighting me, trying
to land a solid punch to my ribs so I’d back off, but I didn’t feel a thing.
He’d made me numb long ago.
“I’m leaving this sport and I’m leaving you,” I spat. “And if I hear that
you’re drugging other gymnasts, I will come back here and kill you,” I said,
shaking him back and forth. “Do you hear me? This won’t be handled by
the police. I’ll do what I should do right now.”
I could feel him starting to struggle to breathe, and it wasn’t until my
mom ran out of the house, screaming for us to stop that I finally let him go
and shoved him back into the grass.
“Erik!” she cried, hysterical. “Your head…”
I reached up and felt the blood seeping from my skull. My fingers came
away dripping with redness, but I shook away the pain, gathered the shit I
cared about, and left my father in the front yard cowering like the pussy he
was.
The world never heard about my drug addiction or my father’s
transgressions. I should have gone to the police and reported him, but I
couldn’t do it. I just wanted to put it all behind me. I moved to Sweden to
stay with my grandfather for a while, and I stayed up to date with news
about my father’s gym. I never once heard about him mistreating other
athletes, but I knew that didn’t mean a thing. I’d stayed silent; other
gymnasts probably did too. I should have done the world a favor and killed
him when I had the chance. The odds that he was an angel from that day
forward were slim.
By the time I finished spewing details I’d kept under lock and key for
the last ten years, Brie’s features were coated in horror. Her face had
drained of color and she was shaking her head, willing the story away. She
didn’t want it to be true any more than I did.
“So you’re right, Brie—we’re completely different people with
completely different lives, but you’re wrong to say I don’t understand what
it’s like to try to compete for someone other than yourself. I don’t want you
to have to learn the same lessons I did.”
“I’m sorry.” She was crying then. “Erik…I didn’t know.”
I rubbed my jaw and tried to keep my tone even. I hadn’t planned on
revealing so much to her that night and I was definitely not looking for her
pity. I just wanted her to understand that we weren’t so different.
“It’s not important, really. Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She stepped closer, looking as if she wanted to say more. Her gaze
dropped to my lips and then back up. Her shallow inhales were masked by
laughter from the group of athletes spilling out of a cab behind us. I
watched her hand reach out for mine, but I shoved my hands into my jeans
and rocked back on my heels.
“Get some sleep,” I repeated to myself as much as to her.
Before she could respond, I turned and headed for the coaches’
complex.
It was a ten-minute walk back in the dark. I shoved my hands into my
pockets and tried to focus on the sound of the ocean in the distance, lapping
up against the shore. It was no use; I hadn’t thought about that night in a
long time. It was easier to keep the past in the past, and talking about it with
Brie had brought up all that residual emotion. Just before I’d made it back
up to my condo, I paused on the sidewalk, pulled my phone out of my
pocket, and dialed my mom’s number.
She answered on the second ring and my chest tightened with the
excitement in her voice.
“Erik!”
“Hey Mom.”
“I’m surprised to hear from you. I’d assumed you wouldn’t return my
calls until you got back home.”
I kicked the curb, loosening up gravel with the toe of my shoe.
When I didn’t answer, she continued. “Your father and I watched
qualifications yesterday. The girls all performed so well, Erik—”
I cut her off. “Do you think he regrets it?”
Silence.
She knew what I was talking about. The night my father kicked me out
of our house had tainted the air surrounding our family for the last ten
years. There wasn’t a phone call that passed with my mom or my
grandfather without some mention of my father’s mistakes.
 “Every day,” she answered simply. “He felt embarrassed, and he took it
out on you. I know he regrets it every single day.”
Silence.
I kicked at the asphalt harder.
“Sometimes perpetual regret is exactly what someone deserves,” I said,
feeling the anger growing inside me.
She sighed, long and heavy. “You’re right. I can’t force you to forgive
him. You never have to forgive him for what he did to you.”
“And what about what he’s still doing? I read his quote in the
newspaper before I left for Rio—I know he doesn’t think I deserve to coach
this team.”
“What are you talking about? Your father hasn’t talked to the press in
years. He’s been in the hospital, trying to get well.” She sighed. “Whatever
you read must have been taken from an old interview or something. He’s
proud of you, Erik. So proud of you.”
I hated that she wouldn’t force me to talk to him. It’d be one thing if
everyone were pushing us together, if they demanded I see his side, but no
one did that. They understood my feelings, and for ten years, they’d given
me all the space I wanted, which in some way only made it worse because
then the decision was all on me.
“I’m not trying to convince you of anything, Erik,” she continued. “You
asked me if he regrets the last ten years and the answer is yes. He lives with
the guilt of what he put you through every single day. We all carry it with
us.”
I could hear the fatigue in her voice. Years of playing mediator, years of
lost family gatherings, missed milestones, and deferred emotion had worn
her down, but I wouldn’t pretend to love my father just to smooth
everything over for her.
He didn’t deserve it, and for that reason, we would all suffer.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Brie

THE REALIZATION THAT I loved Erik wrapped around my thoughts

with a vice-like grip and never let up. Once the idea had settled in, I knew I
could never pretend otherwise. I couldn’t continue to act like what we were
doing wasn’t affecting me. He’d opened up to me, bared his soul for me,
and now I couldn’t go up against him toe to toe without him seeing the truth
in my eyes.
He and I weren’t supposed to fall in love. We’d been at war, fighting
and pushing each other because it was a fun distraction, because I liked to
get a reaction out of him, and because I just couldn’t help myself. It was the
most shocking kind of love I’d ever experienced, the sort that hid itself
behind the other edge of the blade—hate. I’d focused so much of my energy
on hating Erik that when love appeared out of nowhere, it stole my breath.
I loved Erik.
I loved him and it was possibly the most impractical realization to have
the night before competing in the Olympics.
Suddenly, the very idea of being near him, of having to stand in his
presence seemed too intimate. Surely everyone around us could tell how far
I’d fallen. Surely it would be evident to anyone who was around us that I
was in way over my head.
 “You awake yet, Watson?”
Molly’s head poked past the door of my bedroom and I smiled.
She was still wearing her pajamas, but I’d already been awake for an
hour. I was sitting on my bed in my team leotard, putting the finishing
touches on my makeup. I’d pulled my hair up into a bun and pinned it
down. I just had to slip into my warm-ups and I’d be ready to head down to
breakfast.
“Jeez. When did you wake up?”
I shrugged. “I couldn’t really sleep.”
Fortunately, she didn’t force me to elaborate, but I knew I wouldn’t be
so lucky with the rest of the team. As the five of us headed down to the
food court for breakfast in our matching warm-ups and competition
makeup, I slid into a spot in the far corner of the elevator, trying to stay
under everyone’s radar.
It’s like I assumed they’d glance over to me and see I LOVE COACH
WINTER scrawled across my forehead. I reached up to touch the skin just
over my brow before realizing how insane I was being. No one knows. And
I wanted to keep it that way.
Once we strolled into the cafeteria and put our stuff down on the table, I
followed Rosie over to the food line.
“Oh my god, there he is,” Rosie said, gripping my hand.
“Who?” I said, trying to follow her line of sight.
“Hudson Green. He’s on the U.S. men’s soccer team.”
I saw a group of guys at a table a few yards away from us. One of them
had his eyes locked on Rosie and when she noticed, she smiled and waved
gently before turning away with cherry-stained cheeks.
“Rosie, he’s still watching you.”
 She groaned. “Please don’t do anything embarrassing. Let’s just go get
food.”
“Do you know him?”
She shrugged. “We met in the trainer’s office two days ago. He’s a year
older than me and obviously way out of my league.”
I turned over my shoulder to glance back at the group and Hudson was
still watching Rosie. When he saw me catch him, he turned quickly, trying
to focus on his food.
“Rosie! He’s definitely interested,” I assured her as we stepped up in
line.
“Don’t say that! I really don’t want to get my hopes up with him.”
I promised her I’d drop it and once we had our food, we settled into a
corner of the food court not yet overtaken by rowdy groups of athletes. I
attacked my egg white omelet with a vengeance, knowing I’d need every bit
of strength for the competition later.
“We don’t have to be at the arena for another hour,” Lexi assured me
with a laugh.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I want to make sure I’m not hungry during
competition.”
Just as I got the words out, movement near our table caught my
attention. Hudson and a few of his teammates were making their way over
to us.
“Rosie,” I said, trying to get her attention before she put another bite of
food in her mouth. Unfortunately, Hudson was too quick.
“Umm…hi,” she stammered, holding her hand in front of her mouth
while she chewed.
“Give her a second, she’s busy swallowing,” Lexi said with a teasing
smile. “Who do we have here?”
 Rosie blushed. “Guys, this is Hudson. Hudson, these are my
teammates.”
We exchanged pleasant greetings, and then I watched as Hudson turned
to Rosie as if she was the center of his universe.
“Do you compete today?” he asked, nodding to our matching getups.
She smiled. “Yeah. Team finals.”
His brows arched. “That’s awesome. Our next game isn’t for a few
days.”
“Cool.”
“I like your uniforms,” he said, grasping on to something, anything to
continue the conversation.
Lexi groaned against my shoulder. “This is actually painful.”
I squeezed her thigh under the table to make her shut up.
Rosie beamed. “Oh thanks. They’re actually pretty comfy.”
“Dude.” One of his teammates stepped up and nudged his shoulder. “If
you don’t just ask her, I will.”
Hudson blushed and then reached out to elbow his friend out of the way.
“Just ignore them.” He laughed. “I came over here to invite you and
your teammates to a party we’re having tonight.”
Lexi perked up. “What kind of party are we talking about? Kegger?
Rave? Pool party? Pants-off-dance-off?”
Hudson looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh, uhh…it’ll just be
us and a few of the U.S. swimmers. They have a big condo on the
fourteenth floor and I think they’re inviting some other athletes, so it should
be a fun group.”
What about coaches, I thought before I could help myself.
Lexi nodded before Rosie could even get a word in. “We’ll be there.”
“Uh, not me,” June corrected with a finger pointed in the air.
 “Right.” Lexi rolled her eyes. “Everyone but Miss Priss will be there.”
I nearly raised my hand to join June. I didn’t really feel up for a party,
especially if Erik wasn’t going to be there. I needed some time to process
the last twenty-four hours, and heading to a party with a bunch of rowdy
athletes wasn’t really going to help with that. I kept quiet though; I could
always bow out after Hudson and his teammates left.
Hudson smiled down at Rosie. “Okay, awesome. Good luck today. I
can’t wait to hear about the competition later.”
“Oh-h. Yeah. Okay,” Rosie stuttered, too infatuated to think of a real
response.
Hudson and his teammates waved and walked away, leaving Rosie to
revel in excitement.
“Oh my god. Oh my god. YOU GUYS.”
Molly and I exchanged a smile.
“I won’t even be able to concentrate today!”
June scoffed. “You better be able to.”
Molly rolled her eyes at June’s bluntness and then reached forward for
Rosie’s hand. “I’m excited for you.”
“What should I wear?” she said, turning her spoon through her oatmeal,
though I knew she probably wouldn’t eat much more of it. Even I had
butterflies in my stomach after that exchange…or maybe they were
fluttering around because, oh yeah, I’M IN LOVE WITH MY COACH.
Lexi smirked. “I have something perfect for you to wear.”
At once, Molly and I leaned forward. “No!”
“What?! I was just going to give her a dress.”
“How short is it?” I asked with a hard stare.
She shrugged. “It’s not that short.”
My eyes narrowed.
 She hesitated. “Fine…it’s technically a tube top.”
“Don’t worry, you can borrow something from me or Molly,” I said to
Rosie with a wink.
“Fine. I’ll wear the dress then,” Lexi said. “But grab a banana before we
leave. We really should show her how to give a proper blowjob before
tonight.”
“LEXI!”
“I was kidding.” She laughed, waving us away before eyeballing the
fruit stand. “Mostly.”

AS WE RODE the shuttle from the village to the arena, I let thoughts of
Erik settle into the front of my mind. It truly was an inconvenient time to
fall in love. I was about to compete in team finals and I couldn’t tell if the
butterflies in my stomach were from the competition or from the fact that I
was about to see Erik.
The stands inside the arena were completely full, but it was the
television cameras set up around the room that gave me real pause. As we
walked out of the tunnel onto the main floor, I swallowed past the lump in
my throat. I’d competed with cameras on me before, but this was on a
whole other level. NBC had set up a large announcer desk on the arena
floor with multiple cameras angled around it.
“Is that Erik?” Lexi asked, pointing over to the desk.
I nodded. He was perched behind the desk with Valerie, Great Britain’s
team coach, and an NBC anchor. It looked like they were in the middle of
an interview, smiling at one another like they were old friends.
 Even as I tried to resist, I scanned over him from afar. The Rio sun had
given him a slight tan since we’d arrived, making it nearly impossible to
ignore his chiseled features. The announcer asked him another question and
I watched him smile, a slow, rolling grin that showed off his straight teeth
and one isolated dimple.
He replied and Valerie laughed, leaning over to touch his shoulder. My
stomach rolled.
“Relax,” Lexi said, forcing me to loosen my fists. I hadn’t realized I’d
been clenching them until her fingers laced through mine. “They won’t
make us do any interviews.”
Of course she assumed I was stressed about the cameras, not the man
sitting in front of them.
“Right. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”
Still, I turned to watch him finish the interview, telling myself it didn’t
matter if he liked Valerie. Erik was free to do whatever he wanted. We had
never set up any rules. We weren’t in a relationship and we weren’t friends
with benefits. Hell, we weren’t even friends. If he wanted to laugh with
Valerie on television, he could be my fucking guest.
I shook my head and turned away, following the team over to where we
had set up shop two days before during qualifications. We dropped our bags
and started pulling out things we’d need for competition: water, grips, tape,
and pre-wrap. I forced myself to focus on the little things: taking sips of
water and rolling out my muscles. I mentally rehashed my practice from the
day before and tried to ignore the crowd around me.
For the opening ceremonies, they lined up all the gymnasts by country
and the announcers droned on about competition and international ties. I
zoned out as they led us through introductions. One by one, they announced
each country. As a group, the gymnasts stepped forward, waved, and then
fell back in line.
I tried to keep my nerves at bay, telling myself I still had a while before
competition would start, but after they introduced the United States, time
started speeding by. They wrapped up the introductions and ushered us to
our first event. The butterflies in my stomach were rioting. I pressed a palm
against my abs, trying to calm the tension, but it didn’t help.
Our first rotation was beam, so after we went through the opening
ceremonies, we stripped off our warm-ups and started practicing for the
event. I watched Molly hop up first, starting with easy skills before she
worked up to her tumbling passes. She nailed each of them, so lost in her
own world; I envied her. I turned back to my warm-up area and smoothed
the sole of my foot over the white strip on the ground that was the same
length and width of the beam. I started on one end of the tape and practiced
my skills on the floor, happy when I finished and found my feet still
centered on the white tape.
“Looking good, B-dub,” Lexi called with a wink.
I shot her a small smile and then it was my turn to take the beam. Erik
was there, standing a few feet away and watching me with crossed arms.
God, he is good-looking up close.
“Hop up,” he said when I hadn’t made a move to take the beam.
I shook away my thoughts, trying to pretend his presence no longer had
an effect on me. It was no use though; the last time I’d been on a beam he’d
been making love to me.
Oh my god. I blushed from head to toe as if everyone around me could
hear my thoughts.
“Focus on the beam,” he said with a commanding tone. “Nothing else.”
Right.
Easier said than done.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Brie

“WE’RE WORLD CHAMPIONS!”

“Lexi, you’re going to burst my eardrums,” I said, holding my hands
over my ears.
“Like I care?!”
“We’re all excited,” Rosie said with a small smile, trying to contain her
excitement.
It was no use.
We’d won gold for Team USA earlier that afternoon and the moment
the gold medals had been placed around our necks, Lexi’s ability to
attenuate the volume of her own voice disappeared. She could only scream
and shout, too excited to register that the elevator was small and we all
wanted to punch her.
“You’re not actually wearing that to the party, are you?” Molly said,
pointing to Lexi’s chest.
She still had her gold medal wrapped around her neck. It was huge and
heavy, weighing down the material on her skimpy black dress, but she
looked quite content with it in place. “Absolutely! I’m always looking for
more accessories, and nothing goes with black quite like gold.”
We were in the elevator on the way to Hudson’s party after the longest
day of my life. I wanted nothing more than to fall into my bed and sleep,
but they’d insisted I join them at the party. I feigned fatigue, insisting I
needed sleep, but they didn’t believe that excuse for a second.
Truthfully, I wanted to see Erik.
I needed to see him.
All day, he’d been there, coaching from the sidelines, happy when we
were happy, there to give me guidance whenever my nerves got to be too
much. When we’d stood on the podium during the medal ceremony, he’d
stood watching from the sidelines, as proud as ever. He’d been there, but
other than a quick hug after I’d nailed my floor routine, he hadn’t touched
me. It was an intentional distance. I knew he couldn’t treat me special in
public, but that didn’t mean I stopped craving it.
After the applause, the pictures, the flowers, the anthem, and the tears,
we stepped off the podium for even more photos. It was a never-ending
process that bled into the evening and by the time we were done, Erik was
gone. I’d seen him out of the corner of my eye, getting interviewed by NBC
about the success of the team, but somewhere in the madness, he’d slipped
out of the arena before us.
“Don’t you think it’s weird that Erik didn’t stay to head back to the
village with us?” I asked as the elevator doors slid open on the fourteenth
floor of our athlete complex.
Molly shrugged. “No. He probably just took the shuttle back before us.”
“He’s probably celebrating with the other coaches or something,” Lexi
said.
I scowled. “Do you really think he is?”
The thought of him out with Valerie made my chest ache.
“Why do you care? You look seriously hot in that blue dress. You’re a
fucking Olympic champion, and tonight, we’re going to get laid.”
Molly and Rosie shook their heads.
 “Uh, I’m waiting for Duncan,” Molly said. “Remember?”
Rosie nodded. “Yeah, and I hardly even know Hudson.”
Lexi groaned. “Bores, all of you! Don’t you want to make memories
now that will last a lifetime?”
Molly laughed. “I think herpes lasts a lifetime too.”
I fingered my phone in my clutch, trying to decide whether or not to text
Erik. He could have contacted me, sent me a congratulatory text or
something. Why hadn’t he?
“Put your phone away and get ready to party,” Lexi said, swinging her
arm around my shoulders.
I forced a smile as she pushed me down the hallway after Molly and
Rosie. They were counting down the condo numbers, but there was no
need. The entire floor was quiet except for one condo at the far end of the
hallway. Athletes trickled in and out, their voices drowned out by the loud
music playing inside.
“I’m going to take a wild guess and say that’s where the party is,” Lexi
said, pointing to the two drunken athletes falling to the ground outside the
door.
We stepped around them as we approached.
“Should we call someone?” Rosie asked, glancing down with concern.
The two guys were rolling on their backs, laughing hysterically.
“They look fine to me,” Molly said, stepping over them.
Hudson had promised a small party, but the scene we walked into
reminded me of the frat parties I’d seen in the movies. It wasn’t just the
soccer and swim teams; there had to be over a hundred people crammed
into the living room and kitchen, spilling out onto the balcony and
surrounding bedrooms.
“Oh god,” Molly groaned. “This is going to be…”
 “AMAZING,” Lexi finished, waving down a guy passing around drinks
on a tray.
“What’s in these?”
He grinned, assessing Lexi with a long glance down her legs before
landing back up on her medal.
“This crap isn’t for you baby, I’ll get you the good stuff.”
Gag me.
I pushed her past him, waving away a drink.
“Don’t accept a drink from a stranger. Even if these people are athletes,
that doesn’t make them angels.”
No. One quick glance around the room—over the guys playing beer
bong, the couples on the dance floor, the group taking shots near the
kitchen, and the squeals coming from the bedrooms—showed we definitely
weren’t among angels.
“Rosie!”
A loud voice boomed over the crowd and we turned to see Hudson
pushing his way through to get to us.
“You made it.” He beamed, glancing over us quickly before landing
back on Rosie.
The boy is infatuated.
Rosie offered him a small wave and he stepped forward, bending low to
place a quick kiss on her cheek. The gesture nearly burst my heart open. He
was confident enough to lean forward and kiss her in front of all of us. He
wasn’t playing games with her. He liked her, he invited her to a party, and
now he was about to spend the next few hours getting to know her. The
simplicity of it nearly made my head spin.
What would it be like to walk into a party and have Erik seek me out,
bend low, and kiss me in front of everybody? The idea nearly made me
laugh. It was based 100% in delusion.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked, tilting his head toward the dance
floor.
A new song had just started to play and I strained my ears to hear it over
the crowd—“Ride” by Twenty One Pilots.
“I love this song,” I said, offering Rosie an encouraging smile.
She nodded, he took her hand, and they were off.
“Our little Rosie is growing up!” Lexi said, wiping a fake tear from her
cheek.
I laughed and shook my head, watching as Hudson and Rosie took the
dance floor. It took me a few seconds to realize how jealous of her I was. I
wanted Erik to take me out onto the dance floor and smile down at me like
Hudson was smiling at her. I wanted Erik’s attention on me, not because he
was trying to assess my next move, but because he couldn’t look away.
From the first day I’d met Erik, we’d been at war. If we weren’t
throwing knives, we were falling into each other’s arms. I knew we’d never
have that simple kind of love, the kind of choreographed affection Noah
had bored me with. Erik and I were too much alike in our volatility. We’d
drive each other insane on a daily basis. The bickering, the fighting, the
day-to-day battles would never disappear, but we could call a truce on the
war we were waging. One of us could surrender, lay down our arms, and
admit that this thing between us wasn’t just for fun and wasn’t supposed to
end after Rio.
“Brie, you want a drink?” Lexi asked, tugging on my arm to get my
attention.
I shook my head and waved her off.
I’d known from the beginning I was physically attracted to Erik—there
wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t find him physically attractive—but it
was more than that. I enjoyed sparring with him. I knew to keep my enemy
close, but I didn’t know I’d end up enjoying his company and his time.
When we weren’t together, I was thinking about him. When we were
together, I was focused on him. In the month and a half I’d known him,
he’d taken root inside of me so deeply I couldn’t see past the idea of us.
I pulled my phone out of my purse and scrolled through the contacts.
“Hey.” A male voice caught my attention.
I glanced up and locked eyes with Owen, the soccer player I’d met at
the seven deadly sins club.
I had my phone gripped in my hand, my thumb hovering over Erik’s
name, ready to hit call.
“Are you here with friends?” he asked, scanning around me.
Molly and Lexi had wandered off to find drinks and Rosie was still on
the dance floor. I looked lost standing there alone.
I pointed to Rosie with Hudson. “Yeah, they’ve just abandoned me.” I
laughed.
He nodded and smiled, running a hand over his short blond hair.
“Lucky for me then.”
My spine stiffened as he ran his gaze down my legs. I tugged at the hem
of my dress and offered a tight smile. “Right.”
“You wanna dance?” he asked, angling his head back to center of the
room.
“Actually, Owen, you’re really nice, and I don’t want to lead you on.
I’m kind of seeing someone.”
His brow arched.
“Really? Is he invisible? Because I don’t see him here.”
My stomach rolled. “Yeah, well…”
“That kid who was in the club the other day?”
 Who? Oh, Noah.
“No,” I said, taking a step back.
His smile twisted into something sinister.
“Well whoever he is, he probably isn’t keeping you happy if you’re
coming to a party alone looking like that…” He stepped closer and ran his
hand down my arm, eliciting goose bumps I tried to cover with my hand.
I shook my head, ready to shove him away from me, but then I caught
sight of Lexi and Molly behind him.
“Guys!” I said with obvious distress. “There you are!”
His hand dropped from my arm and he twisted around to take in my two
friends. Lexi nodded in greeting, but I shook my head. “Owen was actually
just leaving.”
Molly frowned, confused.
“Good seeing you again,” I said with a fake smile, all but pushing him
away from the group.
He snorted and turned away, knowing he wouldn’t get anywhere.
“He was cute,” Molly said, watching him walk away.
I scrunched my nose. “Not one of the good ones. Believe me.”
“Are you sure you don’t want a sip?” Lexi said, holding her drink out to
me. We had a day off before individual all-around finals, but I still wasn’t in
the mood. I needed to call Erik and I wanted my full mental faculties for
our conversation.
“Actually, I’m going to head to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a second.”
I sidled through the party, careful to keep watch of Owen. He was on
the other side of the room by the time I slipped into the bathroom, locked
the door, and called Erik.
It rang four times before he picked up.
“Brie?”
 His deep voice sent a shiver down my spine.
“Where are you?” I asked, glancing up at my reflection in the mirror.
My eyes were dilated. My cheeks were flushed. I spun away and stared at
the wall, waiting for him to answer.
“At my condo—”
“Could you come pick me up? I want to talk to you.”
“Can it wait six days?”
In six days, the Olympics will be over.
I crossed my arm over my chest, protecting myself from him. “No. I
think we should talk now.”
My heart was pounding in my chest with such intensity I was sure he
could hear it through the phone.
“Are you at the athlete complex?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes. Meet me outside, by the U.S. flag.”
I inhaled his words, biting down my smile.
He was coming for me.
After I slid my phone back into my purse, I turned to the mirror and
dabbed on a bit of lipstick, fluffed my hair, and checked to make sure there
wasn’t any mascara under my eyes. My dress was tight, the sweetheart
neckline accentuating my small frame, and I smiled confidently as I left the
bathroom.
Molly and Lexi were right where I left them and though they weren’t
happy when I told them I was heading out, neither of them tried to stop me.
I guessed they could sense how little I wanted to be there.
The elevator was empty when the doors slid closed and the silence in
the space amplified my nerves. My hand shook as I leaned forward and
pressed the button for the ground floor. I pressed my other hand to my
stomach, trying to get ahold of myself, but my heart was really to blame. It
wouldn’t slow down. The elevator descended slowly and my nerves grew,
multiplying until I could hardly breathe.
I clenched my fists by my sides as I strolled through the lobby, pausing
briefly when I caught sight of Erik through the glass doors. He was leaning
against the side of a cab, staring up at my building. He looked ready for
war: mussed up sex hair and a dark scowl marring his handsome features.
His dark jeans stretched across his long legs and his arms were crossed over
his black shirt.
His armor was in place, but he didn’t need it any more. I’d wipe away
that scowl and kiss away his frown.
I’ll be the one to surrender.
His gaze skimmed down the building and locked onto me as I pushed
open the glass doors.
I smiled and stepped closer as I felt him take me in slowly.
“You’re early,” I said, holding up my phone.
The right side of his mouth tipped up in a smirk, but he made no move
to greet me, not like Hudson. He’d bent and kissed Rosie’s cheek, but Erik
kept his distance, standing a foot away from me, waiting for an explanation.
“I called you because I want to talk to you about…” I wet my bottom lip
and glanced away, trying to collect my thoughts. “About us, I guess.”
His brow arched.
“I’ll admit I never went into this process expecting to think of you as
anything other than my coach…”
A group of athletes tumbled out of the doors behind us, laughing loudly.
Erik reached out and gripped my hand, dragging me away from the cab and
down the block until we were standing in front of the closed post office. It
was as private as we would get out on the street.
 “I’m listening,” he said, nudging his head forward for me to continue.
I stared down at where he held me, his hand tight around my bicep, and
when he followed my gaze and realized he was still holding me, he didn’t
let go. Warmth bloomed through my body and I stared up at him, more sure
of my feelings than ever.
“I like you,” I said, the words practically tumbling out of me. “As much
as it pains me to admit it, I actually have feelings for you other than, well,
lust.” His thumb caressed the back of my arm as I continued. “I know most
of the time we can’t stand each other, and I enjoy pissing you off more than
I’d like to admit,” I said, hiding my smile in the crook of my shoulder
before he reached out and nudged my chin back so I was staring up at him.
“But I don’t want to keep playing this game,” I said, pointing back and
forth between us. “I want the real thing.”
“Erik? Brie?”
I whipped my head to the left just as Valerie came into view a few yards
down the sidewalk.
“Hey!”
Erik pushed me away from him so fast I nearly got whiplash. Valerie
stepped closer and scanned between us, glancing to the spot where Erik’s
hand had been on my arm a moment before. It definitely wasn’t there now,
but she’d seen it. She had to have seen it.
“Congratulations, again, Brie! What are you two up to?” she asked,
registering the fact that I was dressed for a night out.
I opened my mouth to reply, but Erik beat me to it.
“Going over a few things about individual finals.”
I knew why he was lying. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to prance around
the Olympics with me on his arm, and yet the fact that he’d lied to Valerie
of all people felt like a slap in the face—and it fucking stung.
 She smiled and leaned forward to pat Erik’s arm. “You never stop
working do you?”
Tell her to stop touching you. Tell her you’re seeing someone.
He didn’t say a word.
Valerie cleared her throat and pointed over her shoulder. “I actually just
went up to your room to get you. Are you ready?”
Ready?
For what?
“Oh, it’s a coaches thing,” Valerie said with an eye roll, having noticed
my confusion. “They’ve been dragging us all over Rio the last few days.
Did Erik tell you about the longest lunch in history they forced us to go to
yesterday? We had to sit through a forty-five minute speech before they
served food. I wouldn’t have survived if Erik hadn’t been cracking jokes the
whole time.”
Cracking jokes? This man didn’t joke. He had one expression: a scowl.
The silence settled and I realized I was supposed to respond; she’d been
talking to me.
“Oh. Yeah, that sounds fun. I’m glad you two have each other to stay
sane.”
Erik narrowed his eyes at me, but I didn’t meet his gaze.
Tell her you aren’t going. Tell her you need to stay and be with me.
“Anyway,” Valerie said, smiling at Erik. “Are you ready? I don’t want
to be late.”
Please don’t leave with her.
Please.
“Yeah.” He nodded and turned away, and it was in that simple act that I
felt my heart start to break. “Let’s go.”
Valerie laughed. “Aren’t you going to say bye to Brie?”
 I wanted to throw up. I wanted to throw my clutch at the back of Erik’s
head and shout at him for being so fucking stupid. If he had feelings for me,
if he cared for me in any way, he needed to turn around and give me a sign.
And yet, he didn’t.
“Oh, he already has,” I said before turning on my heel and walking
away.
I heard her whisper something to him, probably confused by my abrupt
departure, but I didn’t care. Let her think I was crazy. I held my chin up
high as I walked away from them, my heels clacking on the sidewalk with a
confident air. I felt strong and independent, like I’d just slapped him or
something, when in reality, he was the one who’d struck me.
I passed in front of the athlete complex and kept walking, feeling the
confidence starting to seep out of me. My shoulders sagged and my chin
dipped toward the ground. I’d gone down to meet Erik so I could surrender,
and I had. I’d laid down my sword and armor, and in return, he’d stabbed
me square in the chest. It was an ambush.
I kept walking, keeping my head down, until I couldn’t resist the
temptation. I glanced over my shoulder and watched the two of them walk
away together. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and she was talking
animatedly. She nudged his shoulder with hers and he nodded.
The logical part of my brain knew he wasn’t going out on a date with
her. They weren’t going back to his apartment and making love, but I’d just
thrown myself at him, declared everything I was feeling, and he was
walking away with another woman.
I pulled my phone out of my purse, prepared to text him an angry
message—Forget everything I just said and go fuck yourself—but I knew I
wouldn’t survive his flippant response—Okay. Fine. Sounds good to me.
 Erik wasn’t a good guy. He wasn’t going to run after me and plead for a
place in my heart.
In reality, I meant as little to him as I had a month and a half ago, and
now that I’d surrendered, he likely wanted nothing to do with me.
Game over.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Erik

I WAS STUCK between a rock and a hard place. I should have left Brie
alone from the very beginning, but now it was too late. She was stubborn
and appealing and seductive. I wanted her without thought of the
consequences. Somehow in the last few weeks, she’d gone from being a
thorn in my side to a desire so constant, it consumed me night and day.
Despite my better judgment, I thought about calling her. She’d put her
heart on the line and I’d walked away. I wasn’t a blubbering idiot. I knew
how much that had hurt her, but what was I supposed to do? Declare my
love in front of Valerie? No. I needed to tell her how I felt, but it couldn’t be
out on the sidewalk in the middle of the fucking Olympic Village. She
wanted answers, but she didn’t want to wake up the next day and see herself
splashed across gossip sites. I knew she was thinking with her heart and not
her head. If she took a step back, she’d see there was no point in making the
next five days harder than they had to be. If I came out and paraded her
around the Olympics, the media would have a field day. She had five more
days of competition and the only thing she needed to concern herself with
was gymnastics.
After the coaches’ dinner, I went back to my condo and rolled my cell
phone between my hands, trying to think of something to say to her. I typed
out a text and erased it. I didn’t want to tell Brie I liked her over a fucking
text message. This wasn’t high school—not to mention “like” was a shitty
word. I “liked” spinach. What I felt for Brie couldn’t be summed up in a
few typed words.
“Erik, my boy! To what do I owe this pleasure?”
I smiled at the sound of my grandfather’s voice through the phone. I’d
been sleeping like shit in Rio; waking up before my alarm had become par
for the course over the last few days, so I decided to put my time to good
use.
“I’ve got a few minutes before practice,” I said, staring out at the Rio
landscape past my condo’s window. “Thought I’d check in. It’s been a few
days since I’ve talked to you.”
The condo was sparse, not nearly as nice as where the athletes were
staying, but I didn’t care. I only had five more days and then I’d be flying
home.
Home.
Wherever that was.
“Right, well, things have been pretty busy over here.”
“Yeah? Have you talked to your neighbor yet?”
“I baked those cookies Brie talked about and the first four batches
burned.”
I laughed. “How’d you manage that?”
He groaned. “Don’t ask me, the damned oven burned them!”
“You’re baking these for the neighbor across the street?”
“Yeah, Brie thought it’d be a good idea.”
I smiled and turned away from the window. “So you take love advice
from Brie, but not from me?”
 He chuckled. “When’s the last time you put time or effort into your love
life?”
I scowled. “Just a few weeks ago, I had a friend over and we—”
“No, I’m not talking about opening a bottle of wine before you take a
girl up to your room.”
Jesus.
“I don’t have much time for all that.”
“Take some advice from an old man: make the time. You’re going to
wake up one day seventy-nine years old and wishing you’d made the damn
time.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“How’s Brie?”
I frowned.
“She’s fine.”
“Have you been seeing much of her in Rio?”
“Yes,” I said, trying to figure out where he was going with the line of
questioning. “I’m her coach, remember?”
He hummed and I could hear his amusement.
“I think, for the first time, you’ve met your match.”
My gut clenched.
“Until we’re done with the Olympics, it doesn’t really matter.”
He chuckled. “I’ll tell you one thing: if you expect love to come when
it’s convenient, you’ll be waiting your entire life. If you love her like I
suspect you do, I wouldn’t wait. I would—what was it you said?—ask to
borrow a cup of sugar. Then tell her before it’s too late.”
I hated being scolded. I hated that he was right even more.
“What does it even matter?” I persisted, airing the questions that’d been
floating through my head the last few days. “She lives in Texas and my
home is in Seattle. In five days, we’ll be flying to opposite sides of the
country.”
He hummed. “Yes, I suppose you could go back to Seattle after Rio,
back to that lonely life of yours, or you could do what you should have
done ten years ago.”
I squeezed my eyes closed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “All
right. Enough with the lectures for today.”
“Fine. Tell me how the food is down there. I’ve been eating burnt
cookies for the last few days.”
My grandfather, while annoying, was very rarely wrong. I knew my
relationship with Brie was complicated, and the timing couldn’t have been
worse. I didn’t exactly know what I wanted yet, but I knew I couldn’t lose
her. The location, the logistics, the reality of what our feelings meant could
come later; for the moment I needed to tell her I wanted her. Simple as that.
The team was already warming up inside the training facility when I
arrived. Brie was stretching beside Molly with her headphones in place.
Last I’d seen her, she’d been dressed to the nines, beautiful and made up for
a party or something. Now she was back to the Brie I was used to, the Brie I
dreamed about every night.
“Morning Coach,” June said with a smile.
I nodded and walked past her, heading toward Brie. She stiffened as I
got close, but she made no move to glance up at me.
“Brie, can I speak with you for a second?”
Molly glanced between us, waiting for Brie to respond. When she
didn’t, she nudged her with her elbow and pointed up at me. With a subtle
eye roll, Brie tugged her headphones off and glared up at me with cold
indifference.
 The night before I’d seen a softer, vulnerable side to Brie that was just
as appealing as the spitfire I’d had to deal with for the last few weeks. Now,
I suspected I might not ever see that side again.
“What?” she asked, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes.
Her hair was tugged up into a severe bun. Her dainty features were
breathtaking, but her eyes and her tight frown warned me away.
“I asked if I could speak with you for a minute.”
I motioned to the door of the gym and turned, hoping she’d follow after
me. A moment later, I heard her emit a low groan as she pushed to her feet.
“This won’t take long,” she assured Molly, loud enough that I knew I
was meant to hear as well.
Of course she’s still pissed about last night. I should have stopped her
from walking away.
I stepped out into the hallway and held the gym door open for her. She
was wearing her leotard and warm-up pants, rolled at her hips. When she
noticed me looking at her, she crossed her arms over her chest and shot me
a glare.
“What do you want?”
Her words were sharp, guarded.
“I want to talk about last night.”
She laughed, sad and annoyed. Her gaze shifted to the wall beside us
and then back to me, darker than before. “Actions speak louder than words.
There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Bullshit.”
“Right. I have practice to get to, is that all?”
No. She wasn’t going to do this. She didn’t get to decide this was over
because I hadn’t thrown her over my shoulder and hauled her off into the
sunset the night before. I deserved one night to gather my thoughts. I
deserved more than a quick dismissal.
“Last night you told me you wanted more between us, more than what
we’ve been doing the last few weeks.”
She swallowed.
“I want that too.”
Her eyes narrowed, assessing whether or not she could believe me.
“Oh, but you wanted it after your night with Valerie? How was your
dinner last night, by the way? Did you both have a good time?”
I shook my head and stepped closer, invading her space. “Don’t do
that.”
“I’m not doing anything. Last night was a mistake. Let’s chalk it up to
temporary insanity, all right?”
She spun around to leave, but I reached out for her arm and yanked her
back to me.
“At the end of this, you’re mine.”
She laughed. “Funny that you think I’ll wait for you.”
“It’s five days, Brie.”
“Five days too late.”
I bent low and whispered against the nape of her neck. “Why are you
fighting me?”
She scoffed and yanked her arm out of my hold. “Because that’s what
we do, we fight. The fact that I thought we would ever work out as anything
more than a quick fuck was ludicrous.”
I let her go and she spun around to face me, following her last insult
with another.
“I didn’t ever want you.”
“You’re lying. You meant what you said last night.”
 “No,” she insisted through clenched teeth. “I hate you.”
I wrapped my hand around her slender neck, pulling her toward me.
“You love me.”
Her mouth dropped open in shock. For two seconds, I saw the reality
there, the truth in her eyes, but as quickly as she dropped her mask, she
recovered. “What is there to love, Erik? The bickering? The insults? A
therapist would tell us to get the hell away from each other. This isn’t
healthy. You…y-you are toxic.”
I wrapped my hand around her waist and tugged her body flush with
mine. “I don’t give a shit about that—the fighting, the bickering. What do
you want? A date? You want me to take you out to dinner and hold your
hand? You want me to take you back to my place and strip you down, show
you how much you mean to me? I’ll fucking do it.”
“Stop,” she said, shaking her head and trying to put distance between
us. “Just stop. This is over.” She pushed against my chest, trying to shove
me away. “For the next five days, do me a favor and pretend I don’t exist.”
“Impossible,” I said.
She kept pushing against me until I finally released her. She put a foot
between us and kept building on it until I couldn’t reach out and grab her.
She wasn’t mine anymore.
“Stay away from me, Erik.” Her eyes blazed with fury. “I mean it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Brie

WHY DIDN’T OLYMPIC condos come with ovens? Jesus Christ, I’d
never needed to bake so badly in my entire life. Why couldn’t I have
adopted a more practical and portable coping mechanism, like knitting?
Anything to take my mind off Erik. He couldn’t do that to me. He couldn’t
leave me hanging on the sidewalk, walk away with another woman, and
then in the morning decide he wanted me again—as if he could whistle or
snap his fingers and I’d be there, waiting at his feet like a little pet.
No.
I’d stayed up until 2:30 AM the night before, rolling side to side and
squeezing my eyes closed, but in the end, I always caved. I’d reached to my
bedside table and checked my phone, praying I’d find a missed call or a text
message waiting to resolve everything for me, but every time I checked and
my phone was blank, my heart split a little more.
If he felt something for me, he shouldn’t have walked away. He should
have called or texted me. Something.
The longer I’d stayed up, the angrier I became, and by the time he
walked into the gym the following morning, I was ready to tear his head off.
I meant every word I said to him, even if he thought I was bluffing. I
couldn’t keep up with him. He wanted me, he didn’t want me. He used me,
he tossed me aside. I couldn’t keep dedicating hours of my life to dissecting
his every move. It was exhausting, toxic. I had five more days left in Rio
and I wanted to pour every ounce of my concentration into gymnastics.
I worked out hard, tore through my morning routines, and headed back
to the village with the rest of my team for lunch. Lexi, Rosie, Molly, and I
hightailed it to the food court. The lines were long, but we didn’t let it deter
us. We were all starving and by the time we found a spot near the center of
the room, my tray was topped with a protein smoothie, grilled chicken, and
enough vegetables to feed a family of five.
We filled the small table and I pushed my tray to the spare seat beside
mine, spreading my food out in front of me and realizing I might have gone
a little overboard.
“Does anyone want some steamed broccoli?”
I angled my bowl toward the group and Lexi laughed. “Ew. No. Don’t
try to pass your poor food choices onto us.”
The bowl rattled against the table as I dropped it and reached for my
smoothie.
“As soon as I finish competing, I’m going to devour an entire chocolate
cake,” I said, envisioning it in my head. “Like that chubby kid in Matilda,
except I’m going to enjoy every bite.”
Molly glanced up and laughed, her mouth full of whatever healthy crap
she’d shoved onto her own plate. I was about to ask her what the green
mush on her fork was, but her gaze went over my head and her eyes went
wide as saucers. A shadow loomed behind me and I glanced up in time to
see Erik standing beside our table with a tray of his own. Without asking
permission, he stacked his tray on top of the empty one beside me and stole
the last empty seat at our table.
“Can I help you?” I asked with a hard tone.
 “Brie,” Molly warned under her breath.
Erik smirked out of the corner of his mouth.
I frowned. “What are you doing here? Don’t the coaches eat together in
some private club or something?”
“Not today.”
He unfolded his napkin and draped it across his lap without a care in the
world. I sat, watching him in disbelief, wondering how long he’d actually
stay.
“This is a joke, right? You’re not actually eating with us are you?”
He started cutting off a piece of his grilled chicken. “I’m eating with
you.”
Lexi snorted.
Jesus.
“Ha ha ha. I get it, you want to make a point.” I pushed his tray closer to
the edge of the table so he had to grab it before it clattered to the ground.
“Well, consider it made. You can leave now.”
He slid his blue gaze to me and I saw the hint of amusement there. He
thought this was funny.
I am going to murder him.
In the middle of the food court.
One look at Lexi and the rest of the girls proved they were enjoying this
moment nearly as much as Erik was.
“How’s your day going so far, Brie?”
He sounded like a parent trying to engage an insolent teenager at the
dinner table.
“Oh it’s going really well.” I nodded, swallowing down another sip of
my smoothie. “I’m thinking of playing strip poker with the British men’s
rugby team later.”
 He smirked. “Sounds interesting. I’d work on my poker face if I were
you.”
Lexi cracked up at that. I leveled her with a threatening glare, and then
for the next five minutes, the five of us ate in silence. I watched girls stroll
by our table, glancing at Erik with half hidden interest before scurrying off.
I wanted to shout at them to move along. We get it. He’s good-looking.
Rosie and Molly scarfed down their food at record speed and then
pushed away from the table, adding lame excuses over their shoulders.
Bathroom! Phone call!
“What’s your goal here? To piss me off?” I asked, sliding my gaze to
Erik.
His profile was sickeningly handsome: sharp jaw, high cheekbones,
straight nose. I squinted to blur the edges a bit, but then he met my gaze and
all bets were off.
“Do you see that you’re being hypocritical, Brie? We both want to have
our cake and eat it too, but we can’t just all of a sudden be in an open
relationship. There are reasons we’ve been discreet up until this point and I
know you’d regret it if your accomplishments were buried beneath
headlines about our relationship.”
My heart dropped and when his gaze fell to my lips, I realized I was
gaping at him. I closed my mouth and shook my head. Guess he’s not
concerned about Lexi knowing the truth…not that she didn’t already suspect
something between us…
“Didn’t you listen to anything I told you this morning?”
He waved away my concern. “It wasn’t relevant.”
Lexi was in full-on hysterics at this point, snorting over her freaking
chicken like she was sitting front row at a comedy show.
“I’m glad you find this so amusing.”
 She held up her hands in innocence. “You guys are the most fucked up,
yet entertaining couple I’ve ever been around. Better than TV.”
“We aren’t a couple!” I clarified loud enough that the people occupying
the table beside ours glanced over to check out the commotion.
I groaned under my breath and grabbed my tray. “Actually, I think I’m
full now.”
“You only had like two sips of that smoothie,” Lexi pointed out.
I shoved my bowl of broccoli at her. “Well, I’m not going to stay here
and eat with you two.”
She shook her head and stood. “Well don’t leave on my account. I just
saw the soccer guys walk in; I’ll go eat with them so you two can talk.”
I groaned under my breath, but she was already walking away, leaving
me alone with the enemy. Slowly, I sat back down and sipped my smoothie,
keeping my focus on the British rugby team across the room. They were
massive and bearded and fairly good at keeping my attention away from
Erik.
“How’s your mom?” he asked with a gentle tone.
“Fine,” I snapped, not wanting to slip into normalcy.
He didn’t get to walk away from me like he had the night before and
then pretend to be Mr. Oh-So-Considerate the next morning.
“Where do you two live in Austin?”
“What are you doing?”
Erik was asking me about my life…why? What was the point of
showing me compassion?
He dropped his fork and turned to me, leveling me with a gaze that
nearly swallowed me whole. When his attention was on me like that—so
unwavering and intense—it was hard to bear. I wanted to fidget and turn
away, anything to break the tension between us, but instead I met his stare
and narrowed my eyes, testing him.
“Last night you told me you had feelings for me. Did they disappear
overnight?”
His gaze dropped to my mouth and I realized he wanted an answer.
Now.
“No. I-I just…”
He nodded. “It took me a few hours to wrap my head around
everything. I left you hanging, and for that, I’m sorry.”
He was apologizing?
He knows how to apologize?
“Okay,” I replied with unsteady breath.
“I stand by what I said a moment ago. It’s not a good idea to flaunt our
relationship, but I’d like to take you out tonight. Somewhere away from the
village.”
My eyes widened in shock.
“Out?”
He smirked, a self-serving thing that made my heart skip a beat. “Yes, to
dinner.”
I shook my head.
“Bad idea.” I laughed. “Actually, it’s a terrible idea.”
He leaned closer, ignoring the fact that we were in public.
“Fine, Brie. I’ll play this game. You want me to beg?” His gaze dropped
to my body slowly, then he dragged it back up. The mischief there was
impossible to ignore. “You want me to chase you? Prove I’m serious about
wanting you?”
Was it so wrong that I wanted to make him work for it? Prove he meant
what he was saying?
 I steeled my back and grabbed my tray, prepared to walk away.
“I’ll see you at practice this afternoon,” I said, all hint of emotion gone
from my voice. I needed to run, to escape before he could see how much he
was affecting me.
“Expect to stay late,” he tossed back before returning to his food and
dismissing me.
I wanted to fight back and have the last word, but I resisted the urge to
argue. If he thought he could throw out some sugarcoated words and I’d
bend to his will, he had another thing coming. Erik Winter was as cold as
ice, hard and unyielding, the opposite of what I wanted in a boyfriend. We
would never stop fighting with one another; we were enemies more than
anything else. He could try to convince me we were meant to be more, but
my body knew better. My heart wasn’t racing because he’d just asked me
out on a date, it was pounding hard, coursing adrenaline through my body
like I was suddenly on the defense, preyed on, hunted. Erik had just
declared his intention. He wasn’t going to stop just because I told him to.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I carried my tray toward the trash.
The plates rattled despite my attempt to steady my grip. I tossed my
untouched meal into the trash, dropped my tray off with the others, and
turned to glance over my shoulder as I walked out of the cafeteria. Erik was
still sitting alone, oblivious to the world around him—not that it mattered;
he eclipsed the entire room. No one existed beyond him…his darkness, his
broody attitude. I should have turned away, but I couldn’t. I was frozen in
place as his gaze swept up to take me in.
A shiver shot down my spine.
He looked like he wanted to eat me alive.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Brie

IN WHAT HAD become a near daily ritual, I stayed away from Erik at
practice later that day. I lingered by the other girls and made sure I was
never alone. Lexi knew something was off, but I brushed off her questions
and tried to focus on my routines. It only worked while I was actually in
motion. The moments in between when I was stretching or chalking my
grips, I kept careful watch of Erik out of the corner of my eye. Everywhere
he went, I watched. I didn’t want him catching me off guard, not after what
he’d said in the food court.
I worked quickly, completing my routines nearly twice as fast as anyone
else. I took short breaks and skipped small talk, so by the time everyone
was hitting their third rotation, I was ripping off my ankle tape, ready to
rush back to the village before Erik wised to my game.
I ducked behind the piles of stray equipment at the edge of the practice
facility. The last time I’d checked, Erik was over by the beams talking to
Lexi, but when I paused to unwrap the other ankle, I noticed the building
had suddenly gone quiet. Before I could react, the hair on the back of my
neck stood on end and the cold feeling shivered down the length of my
body.
“Leaving so soon?”
 My hand stilled on my ankle as my heart tried to escape through my
chest. It beat heavy and fast, a reflex meant to convince me to flee before he
stepped any closer. Before instinct could prevail, I was enveloped in the
subtle aroma of his body wash. My hijacked senses sabotaged any notion of
escape, choosing instead to close my eyes and breathe in the warmth from
his body.
I never answered him, but he didn’t seem to mind. My eyes stayed
focused on the ground as he bent down before me, taking my ankle into his
hands and pulling it onto his thigh without asking my permission first.
“I don’t need your help,” I insisted, trying to yank my ankle out of his
reach.
His hand tightened around my ankle and his smoldering gaze swept up
to lock with mine. “So you’ve said.”
His hand cradled the arch of my foot as he flexed it and dropped it back
to the top of his thigh. His other hand wrapped around my ankle, skimming
along the sides of my Achilles. Tingles swept up my spine and I turned
away before he could notice. There were gymnasts practicing all around us
and loud music was playing from a speaker I couldn’t see. He was touching
me while everyone was around and yet my body still reacted as though we
were back in his truck, secluded by darkness. My stomach quivered and my
thighs clenched together.
“You’re doing this to get in my head,” I insisted with a shaky breath.
“You’re trying to prove a point by touching me.”
He resisted my attempt to yank my foot away. “My hands are only on
your ankle, like they have been dozens of times.”
They felt like they were wrapped around my neck, suffocating me.
“I’m not as naive as I was the first time they were, so hurry up.”
 He chuckled, amused by my little tantrum. “Patience. I’m just getting
started.”
I inhaled sharply, quick enough to catch his innuendo, but he was
already moving on with an annoyed tone.
“I wasn’t aware I let practice out already,” he said, one brow arched in
question.
I steeled my back, already prepared with a rebuttal. “I finished all of my
routines.”
“So now what? You’re going to head back and lock yourself away in
your condo?”
“If that’s what I have to do to keep you away.”
A slow, seductive smirk unrolled across his lips. “Like that would really
work.”
Wouldn’t it?
It has to.
He hadn’t even started to unroll the tape from my ankle; he was too
busy sparring with me. I wanted to put distance between us and yet I didn’t
move. He wasn’t gripping me hard; if I tried to stand up and leave, he
wouldn’t be able to stop me. That was the worst realization of all—he
wasn’t keeping me there. I was doing it to myself.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked, genuine pain in his voice. “Why
are you putting yourself through this?”
I reared back, feeling indignation coat my cheeks. Why was I doing
this?
“ME? You’re the reason I can’t breathe!” I accused, finally successful in
pulling my foot out of his grip. I ripped at the tape, unraveling it in ragged
chunks as I continued. “It’s too much, too suffocating. If I’m not with you,
I’m thinking about you. When you’re around, everything else fades to
black.” I shook my head, growing more annoyed by the second. “You can’t
keep bouncing between too much and not enough, Erik. I don’t even have
control over my own brain any more...”
My cheeks were hot and red, partly from my embarrassment at having
told him the truth and partly because I was worked up and angry with
myself for how far I’d fallen in love with the man crouched down in front
of me—a callous, unyielding man who scorched my world and darkened
my sky.
He bent lower, closer. Always trying to get closer.
“Don’t you think it’s the same for me? Don’t you think I’m going
insane too?”
His voice sounded pained, but I shook my head. There was no way. My
obsession with Erik was utterly one-sided. He wasn’t sick—he was the
sickness.
As his hand reached for mine, I recognized the intangible and elusive
feeling building up inside my chest: hope. That soft thrill that sent rays of
light through the darkness was nearly enough to convince me to give in, but
the notion was fleeting. Hope was what I’d felt when I’d called Erik from
the party. I’d been prepared to lay down my arms and surrender then, but
my olive branch had withered and burned. If I gave into him a second time,
if I let him any closer and he let me go again, I wouldn’t recover. I’d never
forgive him. That’s the reason I had to keep my distance. While it hurt to
fall, it was agonizing to be dropped. I couldn’t hear him say he didn’t want
me anymore.
“Clearly, we need some space,” I said, working the last bit of tape from
my ankle. “I need some space. If something like this was meant to work, it
wouldn’t be this hard.”
“Brie…”
 His voice nearly crushed me, but I willed myself to stay strong as I
shook my head, stood, and grabbed my gym bag.
“I’ll see you at the arena tomorrow,” I said, ending the conversation
with a gentle, firm tone before turning on my heel and walking out of the
practice gym.
Once the door slammed closed behind me, I paused in the hallway,
trying to gulp in as much air as possible. It was impossible to completely
fill my lungs around Erik, and each time I walked away from him, it took a
little longer for the tension in my chest to lessen. I squeezed my eyes closed
and waited for the sensation to pass, for the feeling of control to seep back
into my limbs. I shook with the desire to go back to before, to when I didn’t
know Erik, when he hadn’t put me under his spell.
I’d put distance between us, but my body still wasn’t cooperating. It
buckled under the weight of my love for Erik. My fingers itched to yank
open the door. My feet were already turning, prepared to run back to him. I
shook my head and balled my hands into fists, trying to overcome the scary
idea spiraling through me: falling in love wasn’t a choice. I was on a train
barreling down the tracks and to jump off, to go back to the start, I’d lose
everything. Erik owned me, body and soul.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Erik

MY FEET POUNDED the pavement outside the Olympic Village. I’d run
the five-mile loop that started near the entrance nearly every day since
arriving in Rio, grateful to purge the tension Brie built up inside me. My
intentions for joining her at lunch had started out innocently enough. After
leaving her on the sidewalk, I knew I needed to prove myself. I needed to
convince her this wasn’t another game. I wasn’t going to get under her skin,
fuck her, and walk away—not again. I’d slipped into the free spot beside
her at the lunch table with the intention of starting fresh. I wanted to show
her I could be trusted, but then she’d glared at me with such hatred and
suspicion, I knew a clean slate wasn’t possible. We were past the point of
friendly first dates and slow-rolling romance. In a way, I was relieved by
her fire; if she truly wanted nothing to do with me, there wouldn’t even
have been sparks. She was mine, and I would have her regardless of what
the next four days held for us.
So that’s what I told her.
I’d had no intention of laying my cards out so candidly. Even to my own
ears, I’d sounded like a caveman, declaring that she was mine and she had
no say in the matter—and well, maybe she didn’t. She’d told me how she
felt and though she pushed back in the gym, I knew she didn’t want me to
walk away for good. She wanted me to make a bold move, to chase her and
beg if necessary, and though I wasn’t accustomed to forcing my way into a
woman’s heart, I knew this time was different.
The same qualities I’d come to love about Brie made up the wedge she
was using to drive us apart. She thought she could push me aside for a few
days until she was ready to pick us back up again, but truthfully, it wasn’t
possible. The moment I admitted to myself that I wanted more with Brie,
there was no holding back, and even at that moment, as I rounded the trail
back toward the start of the village, I knew at the end of the Olympics, I
wouldn’t be going back to Seattle.
Texas was a place I’d avoided for the last ten years. I’d visited every
now and then, but I hadn’t ever considered the idea of moving back for
good. I’d settled into my role of spiteful son and hadn’t let my mother or
grandfather nudge me from that comfortable seat. After ten years, the
grudge had grown like a tree, sinking deep roots into scars that refused to
heal. The resentful leaves had bloomed and blocked out any hope for
reconciliation—and yet when my mother had called from the emergency
room, hysterical over the idea that my father would die before we made
peace, I’d felt the branches shiver.
I didn’t think my father and I would ever have a normally functioning
relationship, but in the last few weeks, I’d started to throw around
hypotheticals: What if I offered him forgiveness? Would he reject it? Could
we both put the past in the past?
In the quiet of my run, the answers could sometimes be heard.
Would I ever treat him as a father?
No.
Would I ever spend time with him the way I’d wanted to as a child?
Never.
 I could forgive him, but I wasn’t looking to build a relationship with
him. I didn’t entertain the farce of us becoming an all-American family, but
I could see the value in peace. The stale anger in my heart no longer served
me, and with it gone, I could dedicate that space to something much more
important: loving Brie Watson.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Brie

“HUDSON INVITED ME to watch a movie at his condo later,” Rosie said

at dinner later that night.
I cut the chicken on my plate, sawing it until it was all but shredded.
The dull knife screeched on the ceramic and turned everyone’s attention to
me.
“Uhh, Brie?”
I glanced up to see Molly, Lexi, and Rosie eyeing me suspiciously from
around the circular table.
“What?”
Lexi narrowed her eyes. “Do I need to hide all the sharp objects in the
condo?”
I rolled my eyes and let it drop, proving to her that I was fine.
“What were you saying, Rosie?” I asked, trying to divert the attention
away from me.
“Hudson wants me to hang out tonight.”
“That’s great!” Molly said with a big smile.
I tried on a smile of my own, but it felt awkward, lopsided, and tight.
Lexi noticed, watching me carefully. I shook my head, trying to convince
her not to bring Erik up in front of Molly and Rosie. I felt like a ball of
emotion and I wasn’t sure when it would boil over. I’d cry or scream or
fight if given the chance, so for the moment I needed to focus on something
simple like cutting my chicken into tinier and tinier pieces. I reached for my
knife again, but Lexi beat me to it.
“Okay, cool it. You’ve officially chopped that bird up into individual
atoms. Maybe try eating some of it instead.”
Molly and Rosie laughed with her and I felt my cheeks redden. Could
they see how uncomfortable I was sitting there with them? Could they see
how close I was to falling apart?
“Are you two ready for the competition tomorrow?” Rosie asked Molly
and me with a cheerful smile.
My stomach sank with the reminder of what tomorrow would bring. I
was so consumed with my personal life that I kept forgetting where I was:
in Rio de Janeiro—oh yeah, and competing at the Olympics, trying to
change the trajectory of my life. Funny how all that seemed to take a back
seat to my situation with Erik.
So funny.
“I just wish you and Lexi were competing with us,” Molly said,
reaching over to squeeze Rosie’s arm.
Olympic competition format dictated that only two gymnasts from each
country were eligible to compete in the individual all-around finals. Molly
and I had been chosen because of our scores during the qualifying rounds,
and while I was sad for my teammates, Lexi, June, and Rosie had all
qualified for a few individual event finals. I had no doubt they’d each earn
another medal or two before they left Rio.
Rosie shrugged. “I wish we could all compete in all-around finals, but
you two really deserve it. Besides, I’ll be back in 2020.”
 “Not me!” Lexi said. “I’ll be in Mexico, watching the games while
spanking a naughty cabana boy.”
I laughed and the sound caused three pairs of eyes to shift in my
direction.
“She’s alive!” Lexi joked, poking me in the shoulder.
“Sorry,” I said with a shrug. “Just nervous about tomorrow.”
The lie was surprisingly easy to tell and after that, they let me settle
back into comfortable silence. I didn’t pay much attention to the
conversation as they finished eating. Then, after we’d dumped our trash and
trays, I followed them up to the condo and made an excuse about needing
extra sleep before the competition. In reality, my head was a swirling mess.
I couldn’t pick one thing to focus on. I jumped from Erik to my mom to the
all-around finals, around and around and around. Each topic was as vomit-
inducing as the last.
After a long shower and a short, strained phone call with my mom, I lay
in bed, thinking about the $25,000 I’d earned from the team gold. It was a
ton of money, way more than I’d ever had, but it still didn’t touch the
amount my mother had contributed to my training over the years. One time,
I’d tallied up what she must have spent on my gymnastics career, and even
my conservative estimate made me sick. The private lessons, the years of
training, the private tutors when I could no longer manage a normal high
school schedule, the international competition, not to mention all the small
things: leotards, grips, gym gear, tape. I just knew I needed to win more.
I considered what our lives would be like if I had been a normal
daughter. If I’d put all my effort toward my academics instead of
gymnastics, could I have earned a full ride to college and pursued a career
with a steady income? Could I have bought my mom a nice house and
given her a little room to breathe?
 Unfortunately, while I was an average student, I never felt excitement
for learning equations the way I did for mastering skills in the gym. It was
in my blood. In school, kids complained about studying and huffed in
disbelief when teachers assured them they would absolutely need the
quadratic equation someday, but in the gym I could stand on the beam and
feel it in my bones. Everything my body learned built on itself, and the
allure of progression was intoxicating. All of it, from day one, had been
streamlined for one very clear purpose, and I knew winning all six gold
medals was the culminating light I’d been tunneling toward.
I would have assumed having secured one of the six would settle my
nerves proportionately, but no. I’d already competed on the Olympic stage
once, but the next morning, when I walked into the arena for the individual
all-around competition, my knees nearly buckled with stress. I now had to
contend with the idea that for the remainder of the competition, I was on my
own. Competing for individual gold in the all-around competition and event
finals meant I was even pitted against Molly for the next four days. For me
to win, she had to lose, and what had been a team sport two days before was
now unapologetically individual.
During the opening ceremonies, we were announced by name rather
than by country. We each wore a different colored leotard to further signify
the “every gymnast for herself” mentality, and though I tried to ignore it,
the tension between competitors hung thick in the air.
My first rotation was bars. I pulled off my warm-ups and stuffed them
into my gym bag. I reached for my grips and shook off the excess chalk. I
could see the judges out of the corner of my eye. They sat behind a small
rectangular table, wearing black suits and grim expressions. Their glasses
sat on the bridges of their noses, and their pens were already in their hands,
ready to go.
 I turned away and tried to force their existence from my mind, but it
was no use. They only added to the stress eating away at me. My mom,
Erik, the chance for a second gold medal—my mind circled around and
around as I stood in line to chalk my grips and then before I could push
everything to the side, I was stepping up to the bars for my warm-up
routine. I eased into it, feeling my heart dip into my stomach as I moved to
the high bar. I skipped over my hardest release move and then finished with
a simple dismount.
“What’s wrong?” Erik asked as I walked off the mat to take my place at
the back of the line.
I jolted at the sound of his voice. “Nothing.”
“Then why did you just warm up a routine that isn’t even half as
difficult as the one you’re about to submit to the judges?”
I swallowed slowly. “I don’t know.” I averted eye contact, staring into
the stands behind him. “I’m feeling off.”
He shook his head, torn. “I want be sympathetic, Brie, but there’s no
time. I need you to get your head in this arena.”
“It is,” I stressed, ignoring his glare.
Fuck him. Couldn’t he see how nervous I was? My own body was
sabotaging me.
My next routine was wobbly; I nearly ate shit on my first release move
and I took four steps after my dismount.
Erik didn’t even look me in the eye as I lined back up behind Molly. I
could practically hear the announcers in my head.
“Brie Watson has tremendous potential, but she’s the least experienced
when it comes to competition on the Olympic stage. She wouldn’t be the
first rookie to buckle under the pressure.”
“Brie,” Erik urged, pointing to the empty bars. “You’re up.”
 I shook my head clear of thoughts and reached down into the chalk
bucket. This was my last warm-up routine and I wasn’t ready. I needed
everything to slow down. If I could only go back in time and get a better
night’s sleep. If I could have just nailed this routine one more time in
practice. My chest was already tight and the more I tried to tell myself to
calm down, the less I felt in control of my own body. Is this what a nervous
breakdown feels like?
“It’s time,” Erik said, rattling my brain.
I rubbed my grips together and turned my attention to the bars. I
swallowed down the lump in my throat and jumped up to start my routine. I
tried to hit every skill with confidence, but midway through, I felt the sting
of tears in the corners of my eyes. Before they could stain my cheeks, they
bowed to centripetal force as I rotated around the bar and leapt from my
face. Every handstand was a second too short. My arms were shaky and
weak. I nearly missed my hands on my final release move, and in the end, I
dismounted with an easy backflip, a skill I’d competed when I was eight.
I couldn’t look at Erik as I walked away.
There was nothing to say; I was losing my grip.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Brie,” he called out, trying to get ahold of my arm, but I jerked free
and kept walking. I couldn’t talk to anyone. Molly was standing near our
bags, watching me with a careful expression. She pitied me, but I didn’t
need her pity. I needed my body to cooperate.
“Hey.”
Erik’s hand hit my elbow as I brushed by him and he pulled me back
gently until I was staring at his chest. His hands were on my shoulders,
slowly massaging the muscles there, easing the tension building up inside
me.
 “Take a deep breath,” he said, tilting my chin up with his finger.
I frowned. “What?”
His blue eyes met mine and for the first time that morning, I could feel
myself starting to relax.
“Some things are out of your control, but not your breath, so breathe in
with me, okay?” He dropped his hand back to my shoulder and together, we
inhaled slowly. I watched his chest filling up with air and my own followed
suit.
He nodded. “Hold it for another second.”
I did.
“Now let it out slowly.”
He smiled. “Good. Again.”
I didn’t know how he was doing it, but my stomach was loosening and
the stress I’d felt only a moment earlier was starting to disappear. Before I
knew what I was doing, I leaned forward and engulfed him in a tight, all-
consuming hug. His heart beat against my cheek and I squeezed my eyes
shut, taking in the moment for as long as possible.
His voice was smooth and confident as he continued, “When you get up
on that bar, imagine I’m the only one watching you. I’ll be two feet away,
ready to catch you if you fall.”
And what if I’ve already fallen?
What then?
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Brie

WINNING GOLD IN individual all-around finals had been an

accomplishment that never seemed attainable. Even as I stood on the
podium, clutching my bouquet of flowers and waving out at the crowd, I
expected someone to force me from the dream. I clutched the bouquet to
my chest as tight as possible, prepared for someone to try to rip them from
my clutch and apologize about the mistake. How could a girl from nothing
make it to this point? I felt a million miles away from my old life in Austin
—the alarms that rang before the sun rose, the stiff, discolored seats on long
public bus commutes, the stinging of ripped hands, and the lonely nights
that never seemed to end.
I stood on the tallest podium as tears spilled down my cheeks. I was
tired and sweaty and sore. I’d had a long day of competing, but the
adrenaline pumping through me made it easy to stand up tall. The national
anthem streamed through the speakers and I glanced to my left, meeting
Molly’s eyes as she stood on the podium to my right.
“Congratulations,” she whispered, reaching out to clutch my hand. We
stayed linked through the remainder of the anthem, and with both of my
hands occupied, the tears slipped from my cheeks and down onto my
leotard.
 Erik had been by my side all day, helping me breathe when my nerves
tried to take over and pulling me into tight hugs after I’d finished one
perfect routine after another. On television, his embrace probably looked
identical to the ones doled out by the other athletes’ excited and supportive
coaches, but between us, I’d felt something more. When I’d finished my
final routine, he’d gathered me into his arms and whispered in my ear.
“You did it. You won.”
He hadn’t even seemed shocked about it, not like I was.
I looked up and scanned the crowd, trying to find him. There were
people everywhere, reporters and Olympic staff crowding around, but he
stood just to the side, in front of everyone else, wearing an easy smile.
When our eyes locked, his smile widened and I held his gaze.
“I did it,” I mouthed.
He nodded, once.
After that moment, the rest of the day was a blur. I was ushered off the
podium and directed toward my first interview. Erik stayed close, standing
by my side as the NBC reporter doled out question after question. I tried in
vain to suppress the tears so I could answer the questions without sounding
like a blubbering mess.
After that, I was swept away for more interviews and photos. Molly
stayed close by my side and as much as they wanted to interview me, the
bigger story involved the two of us. Only once before had two American
gymnasts snagged both gold and silver in the individual all-around
competition. They tried to scoop the story of resentment or hatred between
us, but Molly only squeezed my hand tighter.
“She deserves that gold medal more than anyone I know,” she insisted
with a firm tone. “Besides, silver works better with my complexion.”
 For the remainder of the day, she and I were photographed and
interviewed by dozens of reporters. It was one of the best, most exhausting
days of my life, and by the time we made it back to the condo, I couldn’t
believe I had to wake up the following day for more.

AFTER THAT DAY, the event finals dragged on for four solid days. I rode
the shuttle with my teammates and walked into the arena, ready to compete.
I tugged off my warm-up clothes and stretched, going through the motions
that seemed to get easier with each day. Lexi won first on vault as she’d
predicted, and Molly won first on bars. I won first on beam, tipping back
into skills that were as natural as breathing. Bars and vault weren’t my
strongest events and though I did win a bronze medal in both, I was
counting on floor to bring my gold medal count up to four.
The night before the final event, I stood in the condo’s tiny kitchen,
rooting through the cabinets and trying to find something, anything to bake.
“What are you doing?” Molly asked from behind me.
I jumped in the air, surprised by her silent approach.
“Trying to find sugar.”
“There’s nothing in those cabinets. If you’re hungry, I’ll go down to the
food court with you. I’m seriously going to miss that smoothie bar when we
head back to the States.”
The States.
Right.
“Even if I have one with every meal, that means I only have five left
before we have to leave in two days. I’m going to have to open a freaking
Jamba Juice in my house.”
 Molly was trying to make light conversation, but she was also
unknowingly breaking my heart.
It was Monday night. The following day, we were set to compete in our
final event and attend the closing ceremonies. My flight back to Texas was
first thing Wednesday morning.
My stomach clenched.
How could time have slipped by so quickly? How could things with
Erik still be up in the air? I thought I had done the right thing by putting
distance between us and clinging to the excuse that we’d figure things out
after the Olympics were finished, but now that the time was actually
approaching, I was terrified. The delayed feelings between us hadn’t been
lying dormant; they’d been morphing and evolving into something I didn’t
even recognize any more.
Erik was there with me in the arena and standing off to the side during
my interviews, but he never joined me for lunch or dinner. He didn’t try to
ask for another date or press for my time. He was polite, but distant, not
quite cold, but alluring. In other words, he was driving me freaking insane.
How was it possible? How could every decision be the wrong one? I’d
wanted to push Erik out of the forefront of my mind, reclaim the right to my
own thoughts, but he was always there, forcing me to second-guess my
every decision. Was I too hard on him in the food court? Should I have
accepted his date? Did he miss our fighting the way I did? Not the anger,
but the feeling of being near each other, of owning that part of each other.
“Why the hell does this place not have any sugar?!”
I slammed a small cupboard door closed and turned on my heel.
“Where are you going?” Molly asked, concerned.
“To bed.”
 I shut myself up in my room. Technically, I did go to bed, but I didn’t
sleep. I laid on top of my sheets, stared at the ceiling, and tried to figure out
what I wanted. I couldn’t keep delaying the inevitable or I’d be on a flight
back to Texas, settled into a seat by myself and staring out the plane’s
window with only memories of Erik to keep me company.

BY THE LAST event final, I was a bundle of anxiety. I walked into the
arena hyperaware of my shaking hands, of the tension pooled in my
stomach. My bun was a little too tight and my leotard was already damp
with sweat. I could pin part of my nerves on the competition, and part on
exhaustion. Floor was the last event final and I was slotted to win gold.
Beam and floor came so naturally to me, it seemed unfair to the other
competitors. My music was a soft lyrical piece that brought me back to my
days in ballet. I warmed up in my own space, swallowing past the lump in
my throat when they played my music over the loud speaker. I settled into
the rhythm of the piano and tried to ignore Erik’s presence just outside the
white out-of-bounds line.
Warm-ups slipped into competition and I fidgeted off to the side of the
floor, hopping back and forth on the balls of my feet to keep warm. I
stretched my arms across my body and rolled out my neck, oblivious to the
other competitors on the floor before me. Their music filled the arena and
their bodies hopped and jumped and tumbled across the floor, but it wasn’t
until Erik’s hand hit my back that I realized I was up next.
“This is your final event,” he said, leading me to the spot just to the side
of the floor. “Are you ready for it to be over?”
 My gaze sliced up to him as adrenaline spiked my blood. Was he
referring to the competition or my time in Rio?
The answer was the same for both.
“No.”
He nodded just as my name was announced over the speakers.
“Brie Watson from Team USA.”
He tipped his head down and took a step back. “Good luck.”
I took a deep breath and spun to face the judges. I arched my back,
saluted them, and then walked gracefully to my starting position in the very
center of the giant blue floor. I paused, dropped my weight into my right
leg, and crossed my hands overhead. In a moment, my music would start.
I’d kick my leg up high and then complete three quick spins that would
transition easily into my first tumbling pass. I’d hop and bounce, using my
beauty and grace to captivate the judges, but before all that, there was a
brief moment when my eyes were squeezed closed, when I was alone in
that arena and my breath was the only sound I could hear for miles on end.
My heart rioted against my chest and I knew then I’d go home from Rio
proud of myself. For all the pain and doubt I’d endured, one thing was
beyond question: I was an Olympian.
The music began, and so did I.
CHAPTER FORTY

Brie

THE RUMORS ABOUT the closing ceremonies at the Olympics are

mostly true, and I found that out the hard way. Athletes are finished
competing, their lives and destinies are once again their own, and suddenly
the arena turns into one massive party. They carted us over in buses and
although alcohol was prohibited, flasks and water bottles filled with booze
were getting passed around like crazy.
I kept my mouth on the bottle Lexi had stuffed in her bag upon leaving
our condo, and even then, I took tiny sips, exaggerating about how much
I’d really consumed so as to forgo any pressure to drink more.
Though we’d missed the opening ceremonies, I wasn’t all that excited to
attend the closing. Everyone was rowdy and insane, and truthfully I was
tired and needed to get back to my condo and pack for my flight in the
morning. Of course, if I’d dug a little deeper, I would have found that I
mostly didn’t want to be there because Erik wouldn’t be there.
“See! I told you it wouldn’t be so bad!” Lexi said, stringing her arm
through mine so we were locked together in the hoard of athletes. Our team
—even June—was sticking together, trying to stay safe in the crowd. We
were in the arena, standing among thousands and thousands of other
athletes as celebrities and musical guests took turns serenading the crowd
from center stage. From my vantage point on the floor, I could hardly see.
There were too many athletes in front of me, jumping, dancing, and trying
to snap photos while they could.
“How hard do you think it would be to try to find the soccer team in this
mess?” Lexi asked, pressing up on her tiptoes to scan over the crowd.
I laughed. “Nearly impossible.”
We were wedged between groups of South African and Japanese
athletes. Mixed among those were a few American and Canadian teams. It
was a complete melting pot and the only common denominator was that
everyone was getting more drunk by the second. I edged closer to Lexi, too
nervous to drift into the crowd alone.
“I keep trying to FaceTime Duncan, but there’s no cell reception in
here,” Molly frowned, holding her iPhone up in the air as if to snag some
spare radio waves.
“Uh, Molly, there are like a million people stuffed into this stadium.
There’s no way you’re going to get service, much less be able to stream
video.”
I told myself that’s why I didn’t have a text message from Erik waiting
for me now that I was done competing. I’d assumed he would have found
me after I finished with the medal ceremony, but that’d been hours ago and
I still hadn’t heard from him. Maybe that’s because you told him no too
many times, genius.
“Who cares, you guys?” Lexi said, wrapping her free arm around Molly.
“Everyone is drunk and happy and we should be too! I’m pretty sure that’s
Justin fucking Timberlake on stage, so just shut your traps and listen to him
sing.”
“Really?!” Rosie asked, hopping up and down to try to see past the tall
athletes in front of us.
 “Here, get on my shoulders,” June said, bending down in front of Rosie.
My brows nearly fell off my face I was so shocked—first, that June was
even hanging around us, and second, that she was seemingly enjoying it.
“Guess you don’t hate us any more, June?” Molly asked, just as
surprised by her behavior as I was.
“Truthfully, I thought you all were going to blow it in competition and
kill my chances at a gold, but since you guys didn’t completely ruin
everything, I’ve decided to give you a second chance.”
In June-speak, she’d basically just declared her undying love for us.
“Huh.” I smiled. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
She shrugged. “I mean, you guys still annoy the hell out of me, but it’s
whatever.”
I laughed. “There’s the June I know.”
She rolled her eyes, but I didn’t miss the slight smile she was trying to
hide. June didn’t 100% despise us anymore, which basically felt like an
Olympic miracle. HALLELUJAH!
June held out her hands for Rosie so she could hop on her shoulders.
Once she was situated, she screamed loud enough to rupture my eardrums.
“That is Justin! GUYS!” She whipped around to look at us with eyes the
size of saucers. “We need to get closer to the stage!”
After that, the night turned into an absolute mess. We pushed closer to
the stage with linked arms so we wouldn’t get separated. Everyone groaned
as we pushed and shoved, but Lexi plowed right through, oblivious to the
giants around her.
“Move it or lose it, people!” she bellowed, tugging me after her so fast I
lost my footing and tripped. The rough concrete scraped the skin on my left
leg, and when I glanced down, I saw blood.
“Lexi! Slow down. I’m bleeding!”
 “I can’t!” she argued, continuing to drag me after her as I tried to keep
blood from dripping down my leg. “We’re so close!”
Clearly, I’d made a mistake in pretending to drink as much as everyone
else. I was nowhere near drunk enough to be fooled into enjoying myself
there.
“I wonder if he’d leave Jessica Biel for me,” Lexi contemplated with a
serious tone. “I know it’d be hard with their new baby and all, but…”
As she continued to ramble on about divorce rates amongst celebrities
and her ability to make a man like JT “happy in the sack”, I tried to find
something in my purse to wipe at the blood running down my leg. The cut
had started to sting, and the tiny wrinkled receipt I was using to wipe up my
leg wasn’t helping.
I tugged on Lexi’s shoulder and shouted in her ear. “I’m going to go try
to find a bathroom.”
She groaned. “No! I don’t believe you! You’re going to sneak out of
here, aren’t you? The night is just starting. I already got an after party invite
from the British rugby team. BRITISH GUYS, BRIE! WITH ACCENTS!”
I smiled and tried to feign excitement. “That’s awesome, I’ll be there.
Honestly, I’m just going to go try to clean up my leg.”
Even to my own ears, I didn’t sound very convincing, but Lexi was too
concerned with JT’s onstage gyrations to focus on me. I told the rest of the
team I’d be back soon and then I turned and started to slip back through the
crowd. The arena was disorienting—dark, loud, and packed with enough
bodies to make my skin crawl. I ended up fighting my way through the
chaos for what felt like an hour before I finally broke through the last row
of people. I inhaled deep, taking in the cool night air. The crowd had been
stifling and claustrophobic and I had no desire to slip back into it after I was
done in the bathroom. Lexi would just have to take on the British rugby
team without me. Somehow, I think she’d manage.
I stepped into an empty bathroom and cleaned up the dried blood on my
leg. It didn’t look half as bad as I’d suspected. A quick shower and a Band-
Aid and I’d be good as new. I tossed the paper towels in the trash on the
way out and felt my phone start to vibrate in my purse. It’d been silent all
night—a fact I’d tried hard to ignore—but now that I was out of the crowd,
I had reception again.
When I pulled it out of my purse and saw Erik’s name on the screen, my
stomach flipped with anticipation. I didn’t give myself time to register how
excited I was before swiping my finger across the screen and pressing the
phone to my ear.
“Finally.”
“Brie.”
I stepped out of the bathroom and lingered in a no-man’s land between
the back of the arena and the crowd of people hovering a few yards in front
of me.
“I thought you’d call earlier,” I admitted, holding my hand against my
other ear to block the noise from the stadium.
He didn’t sound all that amused when he replied. “It was you that asked
for space. I think that means you were supposed to call me.”
I smiled. “Maybe I like to watch you squirm.”
There was a long pause and I pulled the phone away to make sure the
call hadn’t dropped. When I pressed it back against my ear, he finally spoke
with a low, controlled tone. “I’ll remember that.”
A blush crept up my neck. I tipped my chin down, as though he could
see my face through the phone.
 “You asked me to give you space until you finished competing,” he
continued.
“Yes…”
“And I’m done waiting.”
My heart fluttered in my chest as excitement settled into my body.
“I’m still at the closing ceremony,” I admitted, glancing around to find
the nearest exit.
“Walk to the tunnel where you entered.”
Was he there?
I didn’t ask.
I followed his instructions, curving around the back of the arena to find
one of the two tunnels that led outside. We’d entered through them a few
hours earlier as TV cameras hovered around us, broadcasting our every
move to viewers at home. Now, the TV cameras were aimed on the stage
and I was all alone wandering along the back wall of the arena.
“Erik?”
“I’m still here.”
I smiled as the wide tunnel came into view. There were a few security
guards manning the perimeter, but the lone figure standing in the center of
the walkway caught my attention before they did. He dropped the phone
from his ear and pushed it into the back pocket of his dark jeans. His bright
eyes were pinned on me as I approached and his mouth curved into a panty-
melting smile. My body stilled a few feet away. His head tilted as he
watched me reach up and touch my hair then smooth down the hem of my
dress. I was suddenly nervous to leave with him and he knew it. His eyes
smoldered with the intensity of the moment and though I tried to cling to
some shred of control, I knew I’d go with him no matter what. My knees
trembled with a need to step closer and touch him.
Erik.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Brie

AS I STEPPED closer, I glanced down his body, taking him in, not as my
coach—not anymore—but as the man I was wholeheartedly in love with.
His features were always sharp, severe—except his lips. They evened out
his intensity, and they were currently unraveled in an expressive smirk. I
glanced up to meet his eye, having been caught checking him out. He knew
I was already under his spell and wasted no time in reaching out for me and
wrapping his hand around my bicep to steady me.
“Have you had a few drinks?”
I swallowed, nervous.
“Yes, me and every Olympian currently on the planet.” I shrugged,
feeling as though the world were tipping just a little to the left.
“Are you drunk?” he asked with a gentle tone.
I stared at his chest and swallowed. “No, but this would probably be
easier if I was.” I laughed.
“What happened to your knee?” he asked, glancing down.
I’d forgotten about the injury, but when I glanced down and followed
his gaze to the cut on my knee, the pain recaptured my attention.
“I tripped and skinned it,” I said, gently lifting up the hemline of my
dress to get a better look.
 He frowned and turned toward the security guard behind us. “I bet they
have first aid kits around here.”
I shook my head; that’s not what I wanted.
“Take me back to your condo and I can clean it up there.”
His hand tightened on my bicep. “Brie…”
I squeezed my eyes closed and inhaled the sound of my name on his
lips. Brie. I’d never get tired of the sound. I swayed with the weight of it
and when I finally forced myself to meet his eyes again, they were
narrowed and focused on me. My knees nearly buckled.
“Please,” I asked, feeling the word skim across my lips. “It hurts.”
He knew I wasn’t talking about the cut, and he didn’t wait for me to ask
again. He kept hold of my bicep and led me out of the stadium, out toward
one of the waiting cabs. In a few hours, the place would empty out all at
once and the streets would turn into a giant party. For the time being, the
sidewalks were quiet and the cabs were lined up, ready and waiting for the
madness.
Erik guided me into the back seat of a cab and pulled me close to his
side as we made the short drive back to his condo. I knew he’d been staying
near me, but as they pulled up to a complex just three blocks down from
ours, I sighed. He’d been so close the entire time. I could have walked to
him any time I wanted.
There were things we needed to say to one another, but every time I
opened my mouth to start, the words evaporated from my tongue. Erik
could sense my unease, and even as he led me to the fourth floor and
pushed open the door to the studio where he’d stayed for the last few
weeks, he didn’t let go of me.
He pulled me into the bathroom and propped me up on the counter. I
watched him move around the small space, so smooth and confident. There
was a small first aid kit stuffed below the sink; he unzipped it and laid out
the contents on the counter beside me.
He looked back to me and I blushed, realizing I’d been following his
every move for the last few minutes. For the last few weeks, really.
“Let me see your knee,” he said, coming to stand in front of me.
The closing ceremonies dress, while modest, had ridden up once I took
a seat on the counter. The pleated skirt fanned out around my hips, exposing
most of my thighs, and Erik took full advantage as he stepped closer to
inspect my knee. He cupped the back of my leg, propping it higher so he
wouldn’t have to bend so far to see the cut. The act pushed my skirt a little
higher and I moved to brush it back down, to cover the bottom of my
panties, but Erik reached out and caught my hand before I could.
I blushed from head to toe, but he made no mention of what he’d done
as he leaned out to wet a washcloth and dabbed away the dried blood on my
knee. The cut was large but shallow, like the little scrapes you get as a child.
Erik patted away the blood gently and then opened a small tube of
Neosporin.
“Let me help,” I whispered, trying to take it from him.
I didn’t want him to fuss over my knee; I wanted him to press his lips to
mine, to grip my neck in his hands, to whisper against the shell of my ear.
It’d been too long since I’d come undone beneath him and my knee could
wait. The pain was nothing compared to the heavy lust building inside me.
Erik’s hand tightened on the back of my thigh, holding my knee steady.
My stomach quivered with the realization that he was only a few inches
away from the center of my thighs. I could have leaned back and hiked both
of my feet up onto the counter. My panties would do nothing to keep him
from me.
 “You’re not thinking of your knee are you?” he asked, glancing between
my eyes and my lips.
They parted on another inhale and he narrowed his eyes, as if
convincing himself of something.
Instead of answering, I let a fleeting moment of boldness take hold of
me. I gripped the edge of my skirt and brushed it higher until it was
bunched at my waist. I slid my thighs apart on the bathroom counter,
knocking the contents of the first aid kit to the ground in the process. They
clattered against the tile as I reached down to hook my fingers around my
panties so I could drag them down my legs.
Erik pressed forward before I could get them down more than an inch.
He gripped my wrists in his hands and yanked them away from my thighs
so he could pin them above my head. With one hand, he pressed them
against the cold glass of the bathroom mirror as his mouth crashed against
mine. I leaned into him hungrily, letting him devour me as our tongues
reunited. My moans were lost in his mouth as he tilted his head and took the
kiss deeper, his smooth lips brushing against mine.
With his free hand, he widened my legs and pulled my hips to the edge
of the counter so he could bring himself flush against me. His mouth was
still on mine, kissing me with building intensity as his hardness brushed me.
A million tiny fireworks fizzed through my body as he continued rolling his
hips. In a matter of seconds, he’d unraveled me at the seams.
I needed our clothes gone so I could feel him, but he didn’t give in to
my demands. He tortured me like that, keeping us apart as desire grew
heavy inside me.
My fingers dug into the back of his hand as he held me against the
glass; with his mouth on mine, it was the only way I could fight him,
convince him to let me have what I needed. His hand on my thigh dug in
deeper, nearly breaking my skin. I fought against him, rolling my hips to
meet his, trying to overwhelm him into giving in, for both our sakes.
He groaned, though it sounded nearly like a growl, and tore away from
me, taking his mouth and hips away until I had nothing left to anchor
myself to the sink. I was falling forward, like a flower bending toward the
sun, but he was so quick, bending low to his knees and holding me in place
with his hands on my thighs.
His gaze locked with mine as he slowly pressed my legs apart until I
was spread open on the counter for him. His mouth met the inside of my
thigh. It was a featherlike kiss, more ticklish than anything else. I closed my
eyes and moaned encouragingly, assuming he’d move his mouth higher and
lick me until I came. Instead, his teeth sank into my thigh. Hard.
Asshole!
My body reacted as though I were being attacked. My eyes jerked open
as I pushed him away, trying to get him off me. His eyes twinkled with
amusement.
“Jesus!”
I glanced down to see the angry red teeth mark on my thigh. He’d bitten
me—hard.
If I was looking for remorse from him, there wasn’t any. He yanked me
off the counter, holding me around the waist as he walked me into his
bedroom and tossed me onto his bed.
“Erik!” I shouted as my body bounced on the mattress. He was
undressing, yanking the black shirt over his head and unzipping his jeans.
“You really are an asshole,” I said, smoothing a hand over the bite mark.
It still hurt.
His jeans hit the floor and he kicked them aside.
“You’d better stay away from me,” I insisted halfheartedly.
 He smirked. “No. I don’t think I will.”
“But I’m drunk, and you’re about to take advantage of me.”
He laughed. “You aren’t drunk, Brie.”
I moved up against the headboard and crossed my arms over my chest,
more than annoyed with him. “Fine, then we need to talk about all of it
then. You know, settle everything that’s happened between us.”
My attempts to pause his approach fell on deaf ears. He stalked toward
me and for a brief moment, I let my gaze fall to his boxer briefs, to the
erection straining beneath them. I lingered just long enough for him to
notice and his smirk widened.
“Here, I’ll sum it up for us: you’re in love with me. You have been for a
while.” I narrowed my eyes as he continued. “For the last few days, you’ve
been playing a game, too scared to give in to your feelings.” I blushed at
how accurate his assessment was. “Am I getting close?”
I shook my head forcefully. “No.”
He was over me then, caging my legs between his. His mouth hovered
over my neck, brushing soft kisses down my skin as he worked at the
buttons on my dress. Each one he undid exposed another patch of my bare
skin. “Tell me then, what did I get wrong?”
“You left out the part about you being an unpredictable and selfish
jerk.”
“Oh?”
His hand glided up my thigh, brushing across my panties and feeling the
wetness I was now completely ashamed of. I didn’t want him feeling how
turned on I was by his stupid antics.
“I don’t want to be thought of as selfish,” he said as he pulled my
panties down my thighs, up over my knees before tossing them off the side
of the bed. Any strength to get up and leave disappeared along with them.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“No, you aren’t.”
He smirked. “You’re right.”
He tried to move my arms so he could pull my dress up over my head,
but I wouldn’t give in. Something in me wanted to fight him. He groaned,
his patience for me nearly gone, and instead of trying to take off my dress,
he took hold of my thighs and yanked me down so I lay flat on the bed. My
arms were still crossed over my chest as he hiked my dress up over my
stomach. I tried to move away, but he was faster, his weight pinning me so I
couldn’t get away.
“Erik! What—”
The rest of my sentence was lost as his mouth fell between my thighs.
There was no gentle lead-in, no soft approach. His tongue dragged across
the very center of me, the part of me I desperately wanted to conceal from
him. He licked from top to bottom, lapping me up like I was a dripping ice
cream cone. I held in the moan trying to erupt from my chest as he moved
lower and repeated the same movement, sucking and licking me as I fisted
the sheets in my hands. He pinned my thighs down against the bed so that
even if I’d wanted to move, to temper the sensations, I wouldn’t be able to
—he was forcing me to feel it all. The silky texture of his tongue over my
clit made my back arch off the bed.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
No. No. NO.
I wanted to encourage him to continue, to let him know he was hitting
the exact right spot, but I wasn’t finished fighting him, and I knew he liked
my resistance. It was more fun that way; the tug of war between us was the
biggest turn-on of my life and I wouldn’t give that up just to stroke his ego.
The man knew what he was doing; I didn’t need to confirm it for him.
I was getting so close to coming as small waves of pleasure spiraled
through my body, making my thighs shake with the impending fall, but
before I could get there, he pulled his mouth away. I grew angry in a matter
of milliseconds. I was hot and impatient and I opened my mouth to growl at
him, but then I caught sight of him tugging his cock out of his boxer briefs.
He stroked himself up and down twice before settling above me.
Before, he’d always warmed me up with a finger or two, giving me time
to accommodate his size. This time, he pressed his cock against me, running
it up and down across my wetness until it was slick and ready. I wet my
lips, trying to ease the desire burning through me.
He pressed the head inside me, just enough to make me cry out for
more. Slowly, slowly he plunged in deeper, stretching me as my nails bit
into his back.
“You’re the tightest thing I’ve ever felt.” He groaned against my ear as
he buried himself to the hilt. I squeezed my eyes shut. My legs wrapped
around his waist, my arms wrapped around his neck, and my heels dug into
his backside, forcing him to stay inside until my head stopped spinning. It
was as if he were pricking every one of my nerve endings. Sensations came
from every direction and when I tried to breathe, it was impossible. My
lungs couldn’t inflate. He was too large, too much.
Just when I thought I’d cry from the intensity of it, he rolled his hips,
hitting the top of my clit. My thighs released their hold on him and he
started to move gently. He pulled out all the way and then pushed back
inside painstakingly slowly. He repeated the torturous act over and over
again and my orgasm ripped through me so fast I couldn’t form a coherent
thought. I knew he could feel me come as I wrapped tight around him. I
threw my head back and gripped the headboard behind me. My eyes
squeezed shut and bright colors danced behind my lids. It was the longest
orgasm of my life, dragging through me until I was weak from it, exhausted
and prepared to die a happy woman, but Erik wasn’t done.
He didn’t wait for me to recover before he continued his relentless
thrusts. I whimpered, sensitive and over stimulated, but Erik’s thumb
brushed across my clit, barely there at first. My hips reacted on their own,
lifting to meet his touch as he circled his thumb around and around.
He didn’t have to tell me to come again; he was forcing it out of me like
my body was made for his touch. Our bodies slapped together, sweat
making our skin slick and smooth. He was fucking me with full abandon.
He brushed across my sensitive bundle of nerves as he slid in and out of
me. My brain was nearly short-circuiting, trying to cling to every wave of
pleasure while Erik fucked me. His sounds were dark and carnal, long
moans ripping from his chest.
My second orgasm came quicker and it was sharper, taking me to an
even loftier high. I gripped the back of his neck and cried out, losing my
last grip of humanity. I was wild beneath him, arching my back and biting
down on his shoulder.
He yanked out of me, pumping his cock in his hand so he could come
on my stomach. I could have come for a third time watching him break
apart over me. His brows scrunched together, his eyes squeezed shut, and
his mouth fell open with moans. It was the sexiest, most powerful thing I’d
ever experienced, bringing Erik to his knees over me. He looked wracked
with desire. After he’d gathered himself with two heavy inhales, he flicked
his eyes open and saw me smirking up at him like I’d won.
“You’re not leaving this room,” he said as he pushed off the bed and
moved to the bathroom.
 “Why would I?”
“You’re good at running when you get scared,” he called from behind
the closed door.
I nibbled on my bottom lip, contemplating his statement. Maybe in the
past I’d pushed him away, but I had no urge to do it again. Even if he does
have an uncanny ability to piss me off.
He brought a washcloth out and ran it over my stomach before reaching
for my hand and pulling me into the bathroom. We showered together,
lathering each other up and lazing under the faucet, letting the water pound
down our backs. I stayed close to him, keeping our skin flush. His body
warmed me more than the water and I was reluctant to let him go, even
when he stepped out to hand me a towel.
After I finished drying off, he led me to the sink and reached for the
packet of Neosporin so he could pick up where he’d left off an hour earlier.
I’d forgotten all about my knee, but if he wanted to take care of it, I
wouldn’t argue. I adjusted my towel, giving him better access to my knee as
he bent down in front of me. His damp hair dripped down his forehead,
streaking water across his tan skin. I brushed a few strands away just as he
reached forward to clutch my calf. His touch was deceptively gentle and
when he glanced up and saw me watching him, I knew he could sense my
suspicion.
“I’m not always the monster you make me out to be,” he noted with a
sly smile.
I arched a brow in disbelief.
“Just most of the time,” I quipped.
He shook his head, amused, and stood to tug me back into the bedroom.
My body was nearly asleep even before I fell onto the messy bed. I slipped
under the covers and pulled them up to my chin.
 “You know, there are still things we should talk about,” I whispered,
though they didn’t seem so important then, and even if I tried, I knew I
wouldn’t be able to recall a single thing.
“There’s plenty of time for that,” Erik assured me, drawing me in close
to him. “But that discussion is for the light of day, with clear heads. When
you need to clear your head, you bake, but this…this is what I do.”
I wanted to argue, to tell him I was leaving first thing in the morning,
but then his lips were on the back of my neck and his hands were on me,
and we fell into each other once more.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Brie

I WOKE UP the next morning to the sound of Erik’s muted voice. I

blinked my eyes open, trying to place him in the room, but when I rolled
over, I realized he’d shut himself behind the door of the bathroom.
“Yeah, Bryce, I need you to continue to maintain the gym for a few
more weeks, until I get things settled in Texas.”
What?
I scooted closer to the edge of the bed so I could hear the next part of
the conversation easier.
“You’ve done a good job steering the ship while I’ve been away. I think
you should start looking into hiring two new coaches to help take over my
classes, but when I return to Seattle, we’ll figure out a more permanent
solution.”
Permanent.
My stomach dropped and my brain focused on that word like it was a
bomb. I pushed up to sit on the edge of the bed and wiped the sleep from
my eyes. It was still early—a quick glance at the clock on his bedside table
proved it—but I only had a few hours before my flight. I needed to get a
move on, head back to my condo to pack my things and say my goodbyes,
but I sat frozen on his bed, trying to piece together what I’d just heard on
the phone.
 Erik was putting his assistant coach in charge of Seattle Flyers.
He wasn’t going back to Seattle.
I shook my head. Just because he was coming to Texas, didn’t mean…
The bathroom door whipped open and Erik stepped out, pausing in the
doorframe when he saw me sitting on the edge of the bed. He’d showered
and dressed for the day. His lips parted in a sweet smile and I focused there
for a few seconds, trying to work up the nerve to meet his eyes.
“Hi,” I croaked with a dry throat. I cleared it and tried again.
“Morning.”
He pushed off the doorframe and padded toward me. His body wash
permeated the humid air and I inhaled deeply as he bent low to press his
mouth to mine. It was a good-morning kiss, gentle and chaste, but his
breath was minty fresh and his touch hinted that I could have more if I
wanted it.
“You’ve been awake for a while?” I asked, peering up at him from
beneath my lashes and trying hard to resist the urge to touch my face or
hair. All signs were pointing to level 10 bedhead, but he’d already seen me,
so there was no point in trying to convince him I ever woke up looking like
a radiant goddess.
“Two hours or so.” He shrugged. “Owning a business doesn’t stop just
for the Olympics. There were a few things I needed to take care of and…”
He dragged his hands through his hair, moving the damp strands so I had an
unhindered view of his face. He was breathtaking. “I needed to go collect
your things from your condo and finish packing myself.”
My breath hitched. “You got my luggage? My stuff?”
He nodded and dropped his phone on the bedside table. “We need to
leave here in an hour and I didn’t want us to be late for our flight.”
 I pinched my eyes closed and shook my head. In my half-conscious
state, his words weren’t making sense. Why was he talking as if he was
coming with me?
“You just said ‘our flight’ instead of ‘your flight’.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes. We’re on the same one.”
“To Texas?”
He grinned, excited. “To Texas.”
I knew he was presenting a gift to me, a surprise. I could tell by the
softness in his eyes and the gentle tug of his lips he assumed I would be
excited by his announcement, but I couldn’t push past the panic mounting
inside me. He spoke as if he was laying out plans for our breakfast, not
cross-country moves.
I shook my head and stood up, starting to pace the small bedroom.
“You’re coming to Texas today? For, uh…”
I turned back to him, hopeful. If he had plans there for business or
something, then I could breathe again. It wouldn’t be all about me, us.
He sighed and propped his hands on his waist, watching me take long
strides across the room.
“I’m going for a few reasons, you being the main one.”
“Holy shit.”
“Brie, sit down.”
My pace had picked up without me realizing it. I looked like the
Tasmanian Devil flitting around the room at a hundred miles per hour. Erik
is coming to Texas. Erik is coming to Texas with me.
Since when?!
He gripped my shoulders and then spun me around so I was facing him.
I focused on his chest, the white shirt that concealed the hard muscles, the
lines and curves that seduced me so easily. They didn’t distract me then, not
enough to calm the heart beating in my chest so fast I thought I would go
into cardiac arrest.
“You mentioned there were things we needed to discuss last night…”
“EXACTLY!” I cut him off. “And now you’re coming to Texas?!
Without even consulting me?”
His face fell and before he had the chance to mask it, I saw the sadness
in his eyes. It was my fault; I’d put it there.
“Of course I’m coming to Texas,” he said with a gentle tone, bending
low to level his eyes with mine. “What did you think I would do? Go back
to Seattle? Did you honestly think I’d leave things the way they are between
us?”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “I thought…”
I thought this thing between us was too good to be true. I thought he
would leave for his flight with a quick kiss and a “thanks for everything”
nudge on my chin. I thought I’d go back to Texas with a broken heart, and I
thought I’d have to collect the pieces of my life alone—without Erik.
I blinked rapidly, trying to collect the tears from the corners of my eyes
before they fell. He bent down to brush his knuckle across my cheek.
“You and I aren’t long-distance types. I know this is fast, but I want to
be near you. We’ll figure out the logistics once we get there.”
“What about Seattle Flyers?”
“Bryce is managing everything while I’m gone.”
“And your house?”
“Locked up,” he promised.
I wanted to keep asking questions. What about his clothes? Surely he
hadn’t packed enough to move across country. Where would he stay? With
me and my mom?
Holy shit.
 I couldn’t breathe. The more I tried, the harder it was to fill my lungs. I
felt trapped.
Erik was coming to Texas. For me. Why did that seem so crazy? Insane
even. A man had never moved across a country for me. A man had never
done anything close to that for me.
What would happen when he arrived and we got into an argument?
What would he do the first time I pissed him off—realize his mistake and
hop on the first plane back home to Seattle? Oh god.
“Brie.”
I shook my head, trying to convey to him that I couldn’t hear another
word. I was still trying to process the last few minutes and I felt strangely
close to having a panic attack.
“I’m going to go back to my condo.”
My voice didn’t sound like my own; it was distant and hollow.
Erik’s brows tugged together. “But I have all your bags here already.”
I pinched my eyes closed and stepped back so his hands were no longer
on my shoulders. It felt good to have space between us again.
“I know. I just…There’s a few things I let Lexi borrow and I need to say
goodbye to the team.” My voice sounded convincing enough, and he didn’t
try to stop me as I walked out into the living room. My bags were sitting at
the door as promised and I picked them up on my way out of the condo. I
had no clue what I was doing, but I knew I needed to take my stuff with me.
I didn’t want Erik to have to worry about my things if…if I…I just wanted
my bags with me. That’s all.
Though it was still early, the main sidewalk in the village was already
packed with athletes. Everyone was lugging their suitcases and bags behind
them, saying goodbye to friends and exchanging long hugs before dipping
into waiting cabs. There were shouts and horns and laughter, but I navigated
through the crowd with my head down and walked straight back to my
condo.
I told myself I wasn’t running away from Erik. I was just going back to
the condo to make sure he hadn’t overlooked anything. It seemed like a
reasonable thing to do, but every foot I added between Erik and me made
my stomach twist a little tighter. He’d gone out of his way to change his
flight. He was prepared to change his entire life for me, and I’d just walked
out of his condo without so much as a thank you. Was that a mistake?
Should I have stayed?
No!
It was ridiculous!
Absolutely insane…
The door to my condo was unlocked and my teammates were inside,
bustling around and getting ready to leave. I felt relief the moment I saw
them; a part of me had thought I might not see them all again before my
flight.
“Brie!” Rosie exclaimed as I dropped my stuff by the door. “I thought
you’d already left!”
“Brie’s here?!” Lexi yelled from her room. “Wait. Why is she here?”
I frowned and stepped past the kitchen as Lexi walked out of her room.
“You’re supposed to be with Erik,” she said, eyeing my things by the
door and then glancing back to me. “I let him in earlier so he could get your
stuff, and last night when you left, I texted him to make sure you were
okay.”
Right. Of course. I’d only then realized I’d left them in the middle of the
closing ceremonies and had never returned home. I hadn’t thought to let
them know I was okay. I’d been too consumed with…well, other things.
“So…why are you here?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion.
 “I wanted to say bye to you guys before I left.”
She nodded slowly in disbelief, but then she came close and hugged me
all the same. “Oh, well, I’m glad you came back. You missed one hell of a
party after the closing ceremonies. Somehow, I ended up with some Korean
guy’s underwear.” She pulled back and met my eyes with a knowing grin.
“But I’m sure you had some fun of your own.”
“Erik is coming to Texas with me.”
I blurted the words out as if they were a breath I’d been holding for the
last thirty minutes.
She nodded with a wide grin. “Duh. I think it’s so romantic.”
I frowned. No. That wasn’t what she was supposed to say.
“Don’t you think that’s crazy?” I rasped. “He’s moving for me. Isn’t this
the type of thing adults warn against?”
She took a step back, assessing me with furrowed brows. “It doesn’t
matter what I think, Brie, but if you’re asking my opinion, I’d say you’re
overthinking it. You’re young, you just won a neck-full of medals, and a
great guy wants to get to know you better.”
“He’s leaving everything—his gym, his house, his life. That’s insane!”
Her brows furrowed. “No, it’s not. Think about what he has the chance
to get in return. He loves you. He wants to be with you. Besides, he has
family in Texas, right? It makes sense that he would want to go back with
you.”
Why was no one understanding it? Why could no one see the panic in
my eyes? I needed someone on my side.
“But don’t you see how terrible it will be? He and I fight all the time.
It’s a recipe for disaster.”
“So you make up.” She shrugged. “It shouldn’t be a big deal for you
guys—you seem to be pros at makeup sex.”
 I shook my head and dragged a hand through my hair, feeling the
tension building up inside me. I felt like a volcano about to erupt.
“Wait…this isn’t about?” Rosie asked, coming to stand beside Lexi. She
was so small, but the way she looked at me like she was studying a
specimen under a microscope made me shiver. “You’re pushing him away.
Why?”
“No. I’m not. That’s not what this is. I just think it’s crazy that he would
move to Texas for me.”
She shook her head and narrowed her eyes, trying to unravel the hidden
truth behind my words.
“I think you’re sabotaging something good so you won’t get hurt…so
you won’t get left behind.”
I shook my head vehemently. “That’s not the case at all.”
“Yes it is,” Lexi said with fire in her eyes. “Let Erik come to Texas with
you because he loves you and wants to make you happy. Don’t spend so
much time trying to figure out how you’re supposed to feel, and focus on
what you do feel. If you are scared, you don’t have to push him away
forever. Take it step by step, and if you guys aren’t happy, then you break
up. It’s not the end of the world.”
No.
My stomach tightened and my heart dropped.
It would be the end of the world. That’s what no one understood.
I was already in love with Erik. Over the last few weeks, I’d let myself
fall into the fantasy of him. I’d believed I was worthy of a man like Erik
Winter and I’d fallen in love, not by choice, but because eventually I lost
the fight against him. Even still, I’d always prepared myself for the end. In
the last few days, I’d pushed him away, blaming it on gymnastics and my
need to focus on the Olympics, but really, I’d tried to build a wall between
us so that when he left, I wouldn’t be crushed by the weight of his absence.
As it was now, Erik still lived in that fantasy world. He was a fling I’d had
during the Olympics, a memory I could think back on like a dream once I
returned to normalcy.
If I let him come back to Texas and he infiltrated my everyday life, it’d
be a different story. I’d have to adapt to him being around. I’d have to get
used to spending time with him and building a life with him, and if he ever
left me behind, I wouldn’t survive it. I wouldn’t be able to get back on the
bus and share a tiny apartment with my mom and pretend my old life was
good enough anymore.
It dawned on me that the flipside to being spared the pain of losing
someone I loved would also manifest itself as a defense mechanism, to keep
men I might love at arm’s length. If isolationism had served me well in the
past, I reasoned it would be a useful policy moving forward—and it was,
that is, until Erik came crashing into my life.
“So you think I should let Erik come to Texas with me and see how it
goes? Just throw myself off a cliff and pray for the best?”
Lexi reached out and thumped me on the forehead. “Yes, you idiot.
That’s what love is. Now freaking call the man before you lose him for
good!
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Call him!” Rosie insisted.
“Where’s my phone!?”
I tried calling three times, pressing the phone to my ear as it continued
to ring and ring with no answer. Either he didn’t have his phone near him or
he was purposely ignoring my calls.
“You really screwed up this time, Watson,” Lexi said, shaking her head
as I paced the living room. “And if you think about it, you were really each
other’s only chance at love. You’re both so freaking stubborn and annoying,
no one else on earth would touch you with a ten-foot pole.”
Rosie laughed and shook her head. “That’s not true.”
Lexi leveled her with a glare.
“Well the stubborn part was true,” Rosie conceded, trying to hide a
smile.
“He’s probably already on his way to the airport,” I said, stuffing my
phone back into my purse and heading for the door. “I’ll just find him
there!”
“UH HELLO?! Thanks for the goodbye hug!” Lexi shouted after me.
I squeezed my eyes closed and turned around. “Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!”
“Wait!” Molly said, rushing out of her room with her suitcase. “I’ll ride
with you to the airport, Brie!”
“Then I guess it’s just us you have to hug goodbye,” Rosie said, rushing
forward to wrap her arms around me. I squeezed her close and pressed my
face into her hair. She smelled so sweet and my heart broke at the idea of
leaving her.
“You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, Rosie. Don’t ever
change.”
She grinned as she pulled back and Lexi took the opportunity to rush
forward and collide with us. We nearly toppled to the ground with the
weight of her assault.
“Rosie and I will come down to Texas soon. I like that save a horse,
ride a cowboy mantra they’ve got going down there.”
I laughed at Lexi and hugged her back. For the next few minutes, we
said our goodbyes and promised each other we’d keep in touch. There was
talk of a mini-reunion and even June poked her head out of her room before
I headed for the door with Molly.
 “I’ll see you later, June,” I said with a soft smile.
She nodded. “Yeah, have a safe flight and…uh, sorry about being so
rude those first few weeks,” she said, mostly speaking against her shoulder.
I dropped my bag and walked over to offer her a hug. God, it was
awkward and short, and we both laughed as we stepped away from one
another, glad it was over.
“Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t exactly the easiest person to live with
either.”
“Brie, we gotta go,” Molly said, hovering near the door. “I reserved a
taxi and it’s already downstairs waiting for us. I don’t want some other
athlete to snatch it.”
I nodded at June and then walked back to Rosie and Lexi, demanding
one final hug from each of them. It was hard to leave them behind in Rio,
but I knew we’d see each other again someday.
I tried Erik a few more times on the way downstairs. I had no clue what
I would say to him if he did answer—I’m an idiot, don’t leave me?!—but I
needed him to know I wanted him to come to Texas. I wanted it more than
anything. I had no clue what it would be like, where he would stay, what I
would do now that I was finished training and competing, but I wanted him
there with me. We’d figure it all out together.
“Still no answer?” Molly asked beside me in the back seat of the taxi.
I shook my head and stared out the window, contemplating the idea that
I might have just ruined my chances with the best man I’d ever known. I
knew better than anyone how much it hurt to have the rug pulled out from
under you when you allowed yourself to be vulnerable like he had this
morning. He had every right to ignore my calls.
Molly reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing it in hers.
“Remember the first day you arrived in Seattle? When we stood at the
window in our room and I told you Erik’s one-night stand looked a lot like
you?”
My stomach twisted with jealousy at the idea of Erik sleeping with
another woman, but I forced myself to nod.
“I knew, even then, something was going to happen between you two.”
My brows arched as I whipped my head to face her. “Really?”
She smiled and nodded. “I worked with him at Seattle Flyers for a few
years and while he was a good coach, he wasn’t particularly pleasant. I’d
seen him make more than one girl cry, but when you showed up, you acted
like he didn’t even phase you. You stood up to him right away, and I think
that scared the shit out of him.”
Her words were pushing the dagger deeper into my heart. I glanced
down to my phone clutched in my hand and tried to call him one last time
before we arrived at the airport. He still didn’t answer.
“Don’t give up,” Molly said, squeezing my hand tighter.
I nodded as we pulled up to check-in. In a few moments I would leave
Molly for good and though I knew we would reunite someday, it wouldn’t
be the same as having her around 24/7. In the last few months she’d been
my good friend, my fiercest competition, and arguably my biggest ally.
“I wouldn’t have survived any of this without you, Molly.”
She laughed and shook her head. “You were always meant to win gold.
You deserved every moment up on that podium.”
I leaned over and pulled her in for a tight hug. “Will you see Duncan
when you return to Seattle?”
She blushed as I pulled back. “He’s taking me on a date tonight.”
My heart exploded with happiness for her. At least one of us was
ensured a happy ever after.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Erik

BRIE WAS SUPPOSED to be happy when I said I was coming to Texas.

She was supposed to jump off the bed and wrap her arms around my neck,
kiss me until I guided us back to the bed, promising we had time to make
love once more before we had to leave for the airport. I could hardly sleep
the night before. I’d stayed up fantasizing about our trip together, the new
form our relationship would take in Austin.
I had unfinished business to attend to once I arrived. I needed to see my
mom and at some point, I would have to speak with my father. They were
part of the reason why I was going home, but more importantly, I wanted to
be there with Brie. I wanted her to meet my mom, to hold my hand as I
spoke with my father, but I knew something was off as soon as I walked out
of the bathroom.
Her face was pale and her smile was flat, nearly a frown. I’d intended
on easing her into the idea of us going to Texas together, but there wasn’t
any time. She’d been busy the last few days and she’d needed space to keep
her head in gymnastics. Besides, I knew it was up to me to make the move.
She needed to know how serious I was about us and nothing would prove it
more than sticking by her side now that the competition was over.
 Unfortunately, she hadn’t taken the surprise well. When she’d gathered
her bags and walked out of my condo, she’d torn my heart in two. I wanted
to run after her and force her to stay, to see reason, but I knew I couldn’t
force things with Brie. She was always the first one to run, and I feared if I
pushed her, I’d drive her away for good.
So I let her go and I rode to the airport by myself. I sat in the terminal,
waiting with the other passengers with my back to the windows so if Brie
showed up, I’d be the first one to see her. Still, something dark in me
thought she wasn’t going to come. I folded forward and dragged my hands
through my hair, trying to convince myself it wasn’t the end of the world if
Brie walked away from me, from us. I was going to Texas for noble
reasons. I would arrive in Austin, rent a car, and drive the short distance to
my parents’ house. I would walk in and hug my mom, tell her how much
I’d missed her in the last few years, and then I would turn to my father and
hug him too. If my mother had been honest about how remorseful he was,
the conversation wouldn’t be so hard. He’d tried to reach out multiple
times. I’d even read a letter or two where he apologized for everything he’d
put me through, but this time it was different. This time, I was open to
hearing an apology, and I knew by the end of the day, my family and I
would patch things up as best as possible.
All of that should have made me happy, but Brie was still the only thing
on my mind.
“Now boarding first class passengers,” the attendant called out from
behind the podium.
I stood up, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and scanning for
Brie. I lingered in the back of the line, letting the other passengers rush
forward. We had assigned seats; it’s not like it mattered who boarded first. I
hovered until there wasn’t any more time. Brie still wasn’t there and the
attendant was waving me forward, insisting I was holding up the boarding
process.
I handed her my pass, walked down the long tunnel, and tried to fight
the need to vomit. I’d never been lovesick over a woman before, not like
this. I nearly laughed at the idea of boarding a plane for such a long flight at
the exact moment my stomach’s contents wanted to revolt. What perfect
timing.
“Here you are, sir,” the flight attendant said, directing me to my seat in
first class with a gentle smile.
I’d upgraded Brie’s seat too. She was supposed to occupy the seat
directly beside me, but it was glaringly empty and would remain that way
for the next few hours, until we landed in Texas. I tossed my backpack onto
her seat and sat down, rifling through the seat-back pocket in front of me
for a vomit bag. Just in case.
I listened as the other passengers boarded the plane behind me. Soon
everyone would take their seats and they’d close the plane doors, locking
out the possibility of Brie joining me.
“Warm towel, sir?” the flight attendant asked, already holding one out
for me.
I shook my head and waved her away. She smiled and proceeded to
remind me to turn off my electronics or switch them to airplane mode
before making her way to the next passenger. I reached in my pocket to turn
my phone off and caught sight of the calls I’d missed, ten in total, the last
one only a few minutes before. Every single one of them was from Brie. I
hurried to call her back, pressing the phone to my ear just as a soft voice
filled the first-class cabin.
“You know, it’s kind of rude to stash your stuff on someone else’s seat.”
 Warmth radiated through my body as I turned my head and saw Brie
standing in the aisle. Our eyes collided, a mix of blue and brown so full of
emotion, I felt dizzy. She was beautiful, standing there with messy brown
hair framing her face. Her hand was pressed to her chest; she was trying to
catch her breath. I assumed she’d had to run to catch the plane in time and
my body flooded with relief that she hadn’t missed it.
Her eyes were wide and expressive, and though she tried to play off the
moment with an easy, playful smile, I could see her nerves eating away at
her. She smoothed down her shirt and fidgeted on her feet, glancing down
the aisle toward the back of first class and then back to me with a question
in her eyes.
I reached for my backpack so she could take a seat, and she did so with
a long exhale, not looking to me right away. I wanted to speak, to do
something silly like thank her for coming, but we sat in silence those first
few moments as I tried to absorb the shock that she and I were finally
meeting in the middle, no longer running from one another.
I knew she could feel me watching her. A soft blush crept up her neck
and she bit down on her bottom lip to try to keep from smiling. She was
radiant and the longer she sat there, the more I picked up on the subtle
things I’d come to love in the last few weeks. The smell of her shampoo—
something with coconut—had a way of hijacking my senses. The
smattering of freckles that stretched across her cheeks was more prominent
than ever, brought out of hiding by the Rio sun.
For several long minutes we sat in silence, each of us trying to process
the step we were about to take. I was still struck silent when she finally
turned to me, lips parted as if prepared to say something, but instead she
shook her head and glanced away.
I leaned forward and touched her hand, encouraging her.
 “This is crazy, isn’t it?” She shook her head and tried to pull her hand
from mine, but I didn’t let her. “We are crazy,” she continued, as if trying to
convince herself of something.
“No—”
I tried to cut her off, but she wouldn’t let me.
“Do you have a plan for what you’ll do once you get to Texas?”
I shook my head. “I’m kind of flying by the seat of my pants here.”
She laughed. “See! Only crazy people do that!”
I brushed my thumb across her knuckles. “Crazy would be doing the
same thing I always do but expecting my life to just change on its own. This
is me—us—doing something different.”
Her gaze glanced to me, searching for more. “So you’re sure about
this?”
“Absolutely.” I didn’t even have to think it over. I’d never been more
sure of anything in my life. “I want to be where you are.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve…” I stalled, trying to decide if I wanted to say the next
few words, if I could even say what she wanted. I’d never been the
whirlwind romance kind of man. I’d said those three words to only two
women in my life, one of whom was my mother, the other a woman I’d
been dating for years before I even considered uttering them. Brie was
different. Brie wasn’t a woman that would try to fit whatever ideal mold I
thought I had for a partner; she was a woman that shattered the mold and
made me feel the excitement of young love again—the kind of love where
you never know what to expect next and you can’t wait to find out.
I knew I wanted to be with her. I couldn’t stand the idea of flying home
to Seattle without her, so what did that mean?
“I’ve grown…accustomed to you.”
 Jesus. Did those words actually just leave my mouth?
She groaned and squeezed her eyes closed. “Oh god, Erik. Did you just
give me the My Fair Lady treatment?”
I laughed and leaned forward. She was right. If I was willingly throwing
caution to the wind for her, I couldn’t hold back the truth. I wasn’t just
attached; I was…
I brushed my hand along the base of her chin and held it in place so she
couldn’t shy away from the next few words.
“I love you, Brie.” The words spilled from my mouth so easily it
shocked me.
“I love you,” I repeated. “You have to know that.”
The sun shined through the small airplane window, illuminating her
bright, glossy eyes. She reached out and pressed her palms lightly to my
cheeks.
“I love you too.” She paused as if waiting for me to run at the mention
of those words. When I smiled, she continued. “I really do.”
“I wasn’t sure after you rushed out earlier.”
She had to know how much that had hurt.
“No, Erik. Earlier…” She shook her head and gave herself another
moment to collect her thoughts. “When I left, it was out of fear. Rosie
brought up the fact that I might be sabotaging my own happiness because
I’m scared of being left. And I think she’s right. Honestly, I’ve never been
in a position like this and I am scared of what will happen to me if…when
you move back to Seattle.” She dropped her hands and turned away,
summoning more courage before turning back to me. “I’ve never loved like
this before…and at times it almost feels like too much too soon.”
I shook my head, so sorry for the things life had taught her. No one
should fear love. “You don’t have to be scared.”
 She frowned and replied, “I know,” though she didn’t sound convinced.
I turned to face her and leaned closer, squeezing her hand in
reassurance. “I don’t know what the future will hold for us, but I’m asking
you to trust me, to trust that I won’t take your love lightly.”
She leaned forward and brushed a chaste kiss across my lips. “You
know we’re going to fight, right? Probably all the time.”
“I look forward to it. It’s what we do.”
I spoke the words against her mouth and reached up to wrap a hand
around her neck, keeping her pinned against me.
“Promise me you won’t push me away. Not this time.”
“You’re a hard man to turn down, Erik.”
I smirked. “And you’re a tough woman to convince.”
Her pulse raced against my palm as I leaned closer and brushed my lips
against hers again, long enough that she relaxed into me. Her hands fisted
my shirt as she pulled me closer, moaning into my mouth. She was burning
me from the inside out, so sweet and seductive.
A throat cleared behind Brie.
“Warm towel, miss?”
Brie pulled away from me and laughed, pressing the back of her hand to
her mouth.
“Oh umm…” Brie giggled. “Actually, do you have a bucket of ice water
instead?”
I laughed, but the flight attendant didn’t understand her joke. She stood
there confused until Brie waved her off with a shake of her head and a
quick “no thanks”. When she was gone, I leaned close, too excited and
turned on to give her space. I whispered against the shell of Brie’s ear,
describing how large the bathrooms were in first class, how easy it would
be to unzip her jeans and push her lace aside, how fast I could have her
coming once the plane was in the air. I kept whispering dark promises in her
ear until her cheeks were rosy red and her chest rose and fell with quick
breaths.
“Everyone please buckle your seatbelts and ensure your seat backs and
tray tables are in the upright position. Once we’re in the air, you’ll be free to
move around the cabin,” the flight attendant instructed from the front of
first class before continuing on with her safety demonstration.
Brie turned to me with desperation in her eyes. “How long does it
usually take for planes to take off?”
“We’ve probably got another thirty minutes at least.”
She groaned. “Then you need to stop talking until then.”
“You don’t—”
She held up her hand. “Erik, so help me God, if you keep talking, I will
unbuckle this seatbelt and climb onto your lap right here in front of
everyone.”
I grinned, thinking over the sexy image she’s just painted for me. “I
don’t think that would be so bad—”
“Erik.”
“You’re small, Brie. I could take you right here—just grab one of those
blankets.”
She was practically squirming in her seat by then and as a flight
attendant passed by our row, Brie waved her down. “Excuse me, Miss, is it
too late to switch seats? My neighbor is being, er…disruptive.”
She frowned and assured Brie that every seat in first class was full.
“But please let me know if I can do anything to make your flight more
comfortable. Would you like that warm towel now?”
Brie groaned and sat back against her seat. “No thanks, I’m good.”
 “Looks like you’re stuck with me,” I smirked, holding my hand out on
the armrest, palm up.
It was a peace offering—one she didn’t take right away. She sighed and
glared over at me as if she were at her wit’s end, but I didn’t miss the
sparkle in her eyes or the color in her cheeks. She loved our little games just
as much as I did, and though we were leaving Rio, we weren’t leaving the
magic behind. I wiggled my fingers, bringing her focus back down to my
hand, and just before she reached out to lace her fingers through mine, she
shot me a sly smile and whispered, “This is going to be a long flight.”
EPILOGUE

Brie

IT WAS A sweltering day in Austin and the air conditioning in Erik’s old
truck was hardly enough to keep the sweat from collecting on the back of
my neck. I leaned forward and aimed the air conditioning vent down toward
my chest, trying to keep cool in the August heat. The drive to Lone Star
Gymnastics wasn’t more than ten minutes from our house, but in the heat of
Texas summer, it felt like forever.
“Are you sure we needed to bring this many cupcakes?” Niklas asked
from the passenger seat. I glanced over as he adjusted the two-tier plastic
carrying case on his lap. It was my pride and joy. That baby could hold two
dozen cupcakes, nearly three if I crammed them in there really tight.
I frowned. “It’s too much isn’t it?”
He laughed and pointed down to the floorboard, where his feet were
completely hidden beneath more baked goods—breads, croissants, and
cookies, just to name a few. I’d gone a little overboard on baking in the last
few days, but I always did when my nerves were getting to me.
“It’s…a lot of food,” he conceded. “But I’m sure everyone will
appreciate it.”
I smiled before glancing back to the road. Niklas never pestered me
about my stress-baking—not when he found himself on the receiving end of
a warm croissant—and for that, I was grateful. He’d traveled to Texas from
Sweden a few months earlier, intent on a short vacation, but we’d persuaded
him to stay on longer. Our house had plenty of room for him and he was an
enjoyable houseguest. He’d helped us build a garden in our backyard and
I’d forced him to watch a season of The Bachelor with me. (“Why does he
not just buy more roses?”) He was supposed to stay until things started to
settle down at the gym, but as luck would have it, we were only getting
busier and busier, which meant hopefully Niklas would be here to stay.
“You could pass them out to the gymnasts too, no?” he asked, dropping
his face so it was right in front of his air vent. I envied him, but I knew our
drive wouldn’t last too much longer.
“Exactly. Most of them could use a few carbs anyway,” I said with a
wink just as the sign for Lone Star Gymnastics came into view up ahead.
The gym was situated about thirty minutes north of Austin, in a perfect spot
for gymnasts to commute and train from all over central Texas. When Erik’s
father had given him the gym two years earlier, it was in dire need of a
makeover, so we’d taken a few months and overhauled the facility from top
to bottom, even expanding the footprint to make room for a new men’s
training area. By the time we’d finished, it was nearly twice as large as
Seattle Flyers, and twice as time-consuming as well.
That day, we were hosting our first competition and the parking lot for
the gym was already full. Cars were spilling out onto the road, parked
alongside the shoulder and out onto side streets. We’d opened registration
for Lone Star’s inaugural meet six months earlier and we’d had three times
the amount of gymnasts we’d expected sign up for the competition.
“Wow, the place is full to the brim,” Niklas said, eyeing the cars we
passed as I pulled into the gym’s parking lot. “Filip and Sarah should be out
front waiting for us. I called to let them know we’d need help unloading
everything before we left the house.”
I blushed. Maybe just this time, I actually had gone overboard a bit with
baking. I mean, how many cookies can one person bake in a 24-hour period
before they had a problem?
I swung Erik’s old clunker of a truck into our designated parking spot
and as promised, Erik’s parents were waiting for us out front. Erik’s mom,
Sarah, wrapped me up in a tight hug as soon as I hopped out of the driver’s
seat. I closed my eyes and let the familiar scent of her shampoo wash over
me, calming my nerves.
“I brought way too much food.” I laughed as she pulled back.
“Nonsense,” she insisted with a twinkle in her eye. “Remember last year
for Thanksgiving? That was too much food. This is different. There are a
few hundred people inside who would love a free cookie.” She squeezed
my biceps for reassurance. “I promise.”
Erik’s dad stood behind her, waiting for his turn to get to me. I smiled at
him over my shoulder, happy to see how healthy he looked. Though he and
Erik had endured a trouble-filled decade, he and I shared a special bond and
I knew it was partly because of my gymnastics career. He respected my
achievements a great deal, and though I’d assumed it would bother Erik, he
actually appreciated how well I got along with his parents. We spent a lot of
evenings having dinner with them, and though Erik would always be much
closer to his grandfather than his dad, it was an arrangement that worked
and suited everyone well.
“Will your mom be here today?” Erik’s dad asked after placing a quick
kiss on my cheek.
I beamed. “She’s coming a little later on. She just has to work for a few
hours this morning.”
 “Always working!”
“I know. I know. She just loves her job so much, even when I try to
convince her to retire, she won’t listen to me.”
On top of the money I’d earned from the Olympic Committee for
winning a handful of medals, I’d signed three different large endorsement
deals with Nike, PowerAid, and GK Elite Sportswear after the games. The
first thing I’d done after I’d socked most of my earnings away was purchase
a modest house for my mom in North Austin, partly because she deserved it
more than anyone I knew, and partly because I was selfish and wanted her
as close to me as possible. It’d taken a little (okay, a lot) of convincing for
her to accept the gift, but eventually she’d moved in and cut back her hours.
I knew she would never leave her position as a social worker, not when
there were so many people who counted on her. She loved being a voice for
the less fortunate and I admired her for it.
“Are these white chocolate macadamia cookies?” Erik’s mom asked,
sliding her gaze back to Erik’s father.
“Oh? Are they?” I winked at him over her shoulder. “I baked so many I
lost track of what they were.”
They were his favorite dessert and I loved to make them for him every
now and then.
She hummed in disbelief. “You know he’s supposed to be watching his
diet! He has even more of a sweet tooth than Erik.”
“There you are!”
Speak of the devil.
I’d only just handed off the last of the cookies when Erik shouted at me
from the front door. I spun around to see him leaning out, holding the door
open for guests to walk past him. “You were supposed to be here twenty
minutes ago!”
 I pointed to his grandfather. “Blame him! He was on the phone with
Britta and I swear they were doing the ‘no you hang up first…no you hang
up…’ thing for thirty minutes!”
His grandfather chuckled as he brushed past Erik to get into the gym,
though he didn’t deny my claim.
Erik groaned and reached out for me. “Here, the others can bring in the
stuff from the truck. Everyone has been asking about you and I’ve been
running around like a chicken with my head cut off and…”
I reached for his hand and squeezed it, trying to calm him down. We’d
both been stressed about this competition over the last few weeks. I’d
assumed competing at the Olympics would be the hardest thing I’d ever do,
but that short week in Rio didn’t hold a candle to running my own gym with
Erik.
Lone Star Gymnastics was our baby—especially since Erik had sold
Seattle Flyers—and though we had a lot of help from my mom and Erik’s
family, most of the responsibility still fell on our shoulders. Erik ran most of
the day-to-day operations and we both taught the elite level gymnasts,
which meant our schedules were erratic and impossible to manage. On a
good day, it was overwhelming. On a bad day, it was nearly impossible, but
we loved it and craved the intensity of gym life.
I reached out for Erik’s hand and laced my fingers through his as he
tugged me into the lobby. The gym was an explosion of sights and sounds.
Gymnasts and their families had infiltrated every corner of the space. We’d
roped off extra seating to accommodate all the parents and even still, there
were sections that were standing room only.
Erik turned to glance down at me and I could feel his excitement as we
gripped our hands tighter. I pressed up onto my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. We
did it. The smile that spread across his face was enough to make my heart
skip a beat.
“You think you can just come in here and kiss me and I’ll forgive you
for being late?”
“That’s what the cookies were for. The kiss was free.” I grinned.
He tilted his head to the side. “Hmm, well if they’re free, I’ll have
another.”
I laughed and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “There, now do you
forgive me?”
He hummed. “I’m getting there, but you should probably keep going.”
I laughed and shook my head, aware that it wasn’t the time or the place
to be making out with my fiancé.
“Later,” I insisted with a wink.
He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “That sounds promising.”
“Enough you two!” Erik’s mom said, pushing in between us so we had
no choice but to step apart. “Brie, there’s a line of gymnasts half a mile long
that are waiting to get a picture and an autograph from you before the
competition starts. I suggest you get a move on or you’ll never get to them
all in time.”
Before I could reply, she was already pushing and prodding me away
from Erik.
I laughed and glanced back at him over my shoulder. “Sorry! Duty
calls!”
He smiled, held my gaze as I walked away, and mouthed, “I love you.”
A shiver ran down my spine and I looked down to the flawless princess-
cut engagement ring adorning my left hand. He’d given it to me two weeks
earlier as we ate breakfast on our front porch. I hadn’t been able to stop
looking at it since. The feel of it on my finger was a continual reminder of
our love.
My signing table was set up near the side of the gym that wasn’t being
used for the competition. When I saw the line spiraling out past the second
entrance, I stopped in my tracks, still shocked by the idea that these people
were there for me. As soon as I came into view, the girls waiting in line
erupted with screams and waves, trying to catch my attention. I smiled and
tried to form words, but I was speechless.
Erik’s mom guided me behind the small table where they’d laid out
permanent markers and extra photographs. I’d noticed the first girl waiting
in line even from a few yards back. She was standing by herself, her knees a
little wobbly and her smile less confident than the rest of the gymnasts in
line. She had one of my photographs clutched to her chest and it wasn’t
until I smiled up at her and asked if she’d like me to sign it that she realized
she was supposed to let go of it for a second.
Her leotard was a little faded around the edges, the velvet less vibrant
than it should have been. Her bun looked messy, as if she’d done it herself
that morning, and when I met her eyes, I could see struggles girls her age
didn’t usually have to carry.
“What’s your name?” I asked as I signed her photo.
“Laura.”
I smiled. “Where are you from, Laura?”
“Dove Springs.”
I nodded. “Are you competing today?”
She smiled wide. “Yes. Level six. Last year, I was the level five state
champion.”
I arched my brows. “Wow. That’s amazing! And level six?! That’s quick
for someone as young as you.”
 She beamed with pride.
“Are your parents here today?” Most of the girls in line had adults
standing with them, but Laura was alone and I wanted to know why.
Her smile fell, just slightly. “No, my dad had to work. I got to take the
bus all by myself.”
I nodded as I handed her back her photo. “You know, my mom had to
work during a lot of my competitions too. I bet your dad really wishes he
could be here.”
She nodded and her eyes filled with tears near the corners. I could tell
she was trying hard not to cry. “That’s why I wanted to meet you,” she
continued. “They talked about you on TV during the Olympics, and…your
family is a lot like mine.” She swallowed, maybe a little embarrassed to be
volunteering so much information to a stranger. Girls behind her in line
were impatient to get their turn, but I kept my gaze locked with hers so she
wouldn’t feel rushed. For those few seconds, it was just her and me.
“I think you’re going to do really well today, Laura,” I said, standing to
round the table so I could wrap her in a tight hug.
She pressed her face to my chest and nodded.
“And maybe one day when your dad doesn’t have work, he could bring
you back here for a private lesson?”
She leaned back, eyes wide. “Really?”
I smiled. “Yes, really. Although…you should know, this is a facility
where Olympians train. Do you think you could be an Olympian one day?”
Her eyes went wide as saucers and she nodded twice, slowly. “Yes.
Absolutely. If you can do it, then so can I.”
THE END
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thank you to all my readers in the indie book world!

Thank you to Lance. You never fully accept the title of co-author, but you
are one, so get over it.
Thank you to my editor, Caitlin at Editing by C. Marie! You are
irreplaceable and that scares me.
Thank you to my agent, Kimberly Brower.
Most importantly, thank you to Olympic athletes for misbehaving (in the
best way possible) and inspiring this series in the first place.
 The Summer Games continue with another standalone Olympic romance…

As an Olympic rookie, Andie Foster has spent far more time in her cleats than between the sheets.
For 21 years, her Friday nights have consisted of blocking shots rather than taking them. But now
that she's landed in Rio, she's ready to see for herself if the rumors about the Olympic Village are
true:

• The athletes are all sex-crazed maniacs...

• The committee passes out condoms like candy...
• The games continue long after the medals have been handed out...

As Andie walks the line between rumor and reality, she's forced into the path of Frederick Archibald,
a decorated Olympic swimmer and owner of a sexy British accent--too bad he's unavailable in a way
that "it's complicated" doesn't even begin to explain.

In other words: off limits.

It doesn't matter that he has abs that could bring peace to the Middle East and a smile that makes
even the Queen blush; Andie fully intends on keeping her focus on the soccer field. But the Village is
small. Suffocating. Everywhere Andie goes, Freddie happens to be there--shirtless, wet from the pool,
and determined to show her a whole new meaning of the phrase "international affairs".

Due to strong language and sexual content, this book is not intended for readers under the age of 18.

AVAILABLE NOW ON AMAZON

 Sign up to stay up to date on future releases!
Click this link to sign up the R.S. Grey Mailing
List:
Mailing List
Stay Connected with R.S. Grey:
FACEBOOK
INSTAGRAM
TWITTER
PINTEREST
GOODREADS

Join R.S. Grey’s Facebook group and connect

with other readers:
R.S. Grey's Little Reds
 Other Books by R.S. Grey:
SCORING WILDER
Adult Romantic Comedy (age 17+)

What started out as a joke— seduce Coach Wilder—soon became a

goal she had to score.

With Olympic tryouts on the horizon, the last thing nineteen-year-old

Kinsley Bryant needs to add to her plate is Liam Wilder. He's a professional
soccer player, America's favorite bad-boy, and has all the qualities of a
skilled panty-dropper.

• A face that makes girls weep – check.

• Abs that can shred Parmesan cheese (the expensive kind) – check.
• Enough confidence to shift the earth’s gravitational pull – double check.

Not to mention Liam is strictly off limits. Forbidden. Her coaches have
made that perfectly clear. (i.e. “Score with Coach Wilder anywhere other
than the field and you’ll be cut from the team faster than you can count his
tattoos.”) But that just makes him all the more enticing…besides, Kinsley's
already counted the visible ones, and she is not one to leave a project
unfinished.

Kinsley tries to play the game her way as they navigate through forbidden
territory, but Liam is determined to teach her a whole new definition for the
term “team bonding.”

AVAILABLE NOW ON AMAZON

 THE ALLURE OF JULIAN LEFRAY
Adult Romantic Comedy (age 17+)

From: JosephineKeller@LLDesigns.com
To: LilyNBlack@gmail.com
Subject: Justin Timberlake Nudes!

Lily, you predictable perv. I knew you’d open this email faster if I tempted
you with a glimpse of JT's “PP”. Well, put your pants back on and grab
some bubbly because I have much better news to share.

I GOT A JOB!

As of tomorrow, I’ll be the new executive assistant at Lorena Lefray

Designs. I am SO excited, but there’s one itty bitty problem: I won’t be
Lorena’s assistant. I’ll be working for her older brother, Julian.

I know what you're thinking- ”But Jo, what’s the problem?”

Google him. Now. He’s the man in the fitted navy suit whose face reminds
you that there’s hope yet for this cruel, ugly world. Keep scrolling…do you
see those dimples? Yup. That’s the Julian Lefray I will be reporting to
tomorrow morning.

Lord, help us all...

XO,
Jo

AVAILABLE NOW ON AMAZON

 THE ALLURE OF DEAN HARPER
Adult Romantic Comedy (age 17+)
#1 Best Selling Romantic Comedy on Amazon

From: LilyNBlack@Gmail.com
To: JosephineKeller@VogueMagazine.com
Subject: You're a flippin' idiot

Good morning my dear, naive friend,

I hope you're enjoying a breakfast of regret and sorrow.

Why?

Because you sent me to work for Dean Harper, aka a control freak in a
tailor-made suit. Sure he owns the trendiest restaurants in NYC, but c'mon
Jo, his ego makes Kanye West look like the Dalai Lama.

He's the type of guy that only hears the word “no” when it's followed by
“don't stop.”

Working for Dean Harper would be like selling my soul to the devil...and
before you say anything, I don't care if the devil has punch-you-in-the-gut
brown eyes and an ass to match. My soul isn't for sale.
Regretfully yours,
Lily

AVAILABLE NOW ON AMAZON

 THE DUET
Adult Romance (age 17+)

When 27-year-old pop sensation Brooklyn Heart steps in front of a

microphone, her love songs enchant audiences worldwide. But when it
comes to her own love life, the only spell she’s under is a dry one.

So when her label slots her for a Grammy performance with the sexy and
soulful Jason Monroe, she can’t help but entertain certain fantasies... those
in which her G-string gets more play than her guitars'.

Only one problem. Jason is a lyrical lone wolf that isn’t happy about
sharing the stage—nor his ranch — with the sassy singer. But while it may
seem like a song entitled ‘Jason Monroe Is an Arrogant Ho’ basically writes
itself, their label and their millions of fans are expecting recording gold…

They’re expecting The Duet.

AVAILABLE NOW ON AMAZON

 THE DESIGN
Adult Romance (age 17+)

Five minutes until the interview begins.

Fresh on the heels of her college graduation, Cameron Heart has landed an
interview at a prestigious architecture firm.

Four minutes until the interview.

She knows she's only there because the owner, Grayson Cole, is her older
sister's friend.

Three minutes.

For the last seven years, Grayson has been the most intimidating man
Cammie has ever had the pleasure, or displeasure, of being around.

Two Minutes.

But the job opportunity is too good to pass up. So, Cammie will have to
ignore the fact that Grayson is handsome enough to have his own national
holiday.

One.

After all, she shouldn't feel that way about her new boss. And, he will be
her new boss.
...

“I'm not intimidated by you,” I said with a confident smile.

“Perhaps we should fix that, Ms. Heart. Close the door.”

AVAILABLE NOW ON AMAZON

 With This Heart
New Adult Romance (age 17+)

If someone had told me a year ago that I was about to fall in love, go on an
epic road trip, ride a Triceratops, sing on a bar, and lose my virginity, I
would have assumed they were on drugs.

Well, that is, until I met Beckham.

Beck was mostly to blame for my recklessness. Gorgeous, clever,

undeniably charming Beck barreled into my life as if it were his mission to
make sure I never took living for granted. He showed me that there were no
boundaries, rules were for the spineless, and a kiss was supposed to happen
when I least expected.

Beck was the plot twist that took me by surprise. Two months before I met
him, death was knocking at my door. I’d all but given up my last scrap of
hope when suddenly I was given a second chance at life. This time around,
I wasn’t going to let it slip through my fingers.

We set out on a road trip with nothing to lose and no guarantees of

tomorrow.
Our road trip was about young, reckless love. The kind of love that
burns bright.
The kind of love that no road-map could bring me back from.

AVAILABLE NOW ON AMAZON

 Behind His Lens
Adult Romance

Twenty-three year old model Charley Whitlock built a quiet life for herself
after disaster struck four years ago. She hides beneath her beautiful mask,
never revealing her true self to the world... until she comes face-to-face
with her new photographer — sexy, possessive Jude Anderson. It's clear
from the first time she meets him that she's playing by his rules. He says
jump, she asks how high. He tells her to unzip her cream Dior gown, she
knows she has to comply. But what if she wants him to take charge outside
of the studio as well?

Jude Anderson has a strict "no model" dating policy. But everything
about Charley sets his body on fire.

When a tropical photo shoot in Hawaii forces the stubborn pair into
sexually charged situations, their chemistry can no longer be ignored.
They’ll have to decide if they’re willing to break their rules and leave the
past behind or if they’ll stay consumed by their demons forever. Will Jude
persuade Charley to give in to her deepest desires?

**Recommended for ages 17+ due to language and sexual situations.**

AVAILABLE NOW ON AMAZON