“You told Prathi I was prostituting myself out to you.”
The accusation spilled out of my mouth when I spotted Jackson by the platform at the front of the office that evening. For hours, I’d been squirming at my desk, replaying the mortifying conversation with Prathi. I knew she had to be told about our relationship, but I didn’t appreciate being blindsided.
“Technically, I’m the gigolo,” Jackson said, straight-faced.
His phone rang and he answered it before I could berate him further.
Derrick meandered through the small crowd, collecting the consent forms we’d signed in case we got injured. We were all there for a self-defense workshop the company was putting on.
“I’m glad you came,” Derrick said when he took mine. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“Er…yeah. Totally,” I said, flustered. Why did I turn into a moron around him?
“You were hired at the start of summer, right?” One of his thick eyebrows lifted in question.
“March.” I bit my lip, remembering our first encounter. “I’ve been meaning to apologize for the whole sign-my-shirt-thing I did when I first met you.” I toed the floor with my shoe. “I’m sorry about that.”
His Instagram was filled with comments from hot girls in bikinis. They weren’t the only people who followed him, but they were the most vocal. He never engaged with them—at least in the comments—and I didn’t want him to think I was like one of them.
“I just really admire everything you’ve done in support of women,” I said. “It’s an honor to work here.”
Oh my god, please shut up.
“I forgot about that. You were cute.” His smile was bright.
Great. He was describing me like a puppy.
“Half the time I want to pinch myself,” he said. “It’s a privilege to have a platform to speak about the things I care about.”
“And if we’re bought by NOW, that platform will grow tenfold,” I said.
“Let’s not jinx it.” He winked. “We’re in the running but we’ve still got some competition.”
NOW was a multi-media, multinational company. Anything it touched turned to gold and it was looking to acquire another podcast company to bring into its network. They’d been interested in a dozen companies, but the fight had dwindled to two—FireVision and Dreamary.
A young woman came up with her completed form, coquettish in her gaze and gait, but Derrick’s attention on me didn’t falter as he took her paperwork and put it with the stack in his hands.
“Thanks for hosting this class,” I said, scrambling to think of something else to say.
“You were the inspiration.”
Heat spread to my neck and cheeks. “What do you mean?”
“Isaac and I had been planning on holding this class for a while but we kept putting it off. Then Jackson barged into my office on Friday and basically demanded we do it ASAP. When I asked why, he said you had an encounter with someone and he wanted you to be prepared if it happened again.”
I tucked my chin back, surprised.
“Don’t worry,” Derrick said. “He didn’t go into details, but he was adamant about it. I have to admit it concerned me. If someone assaulted you, I can call my old department and we can file a report.”
“Oh, no. It wasn’t a big deal,” I said, laying my hand over my heart, grateful he’d offered.
Selena gently elbowed her way through the crowd. I’d texted her earlier and asked her to attend the workshop with me. When she got to me, she bumped her hip with mine and slid her eyes over Derrick’s strong frame.
“Damn. If I liked cock, I’d be all over you.”
“Lena!” My eyes bulged and I smiled apologetically at Derrick. “You can’t say that.”
Derrick laughed. “It’s fine. And I’m flattered. I think.”
“What were you saying to my friend?” Selena asked. “She’s single, you know.”
“Oh my god.” I palmed my forehead. “Can we learn some karate now, so I can kick her ass?”
Derrick’s mouth rose into a bemused smile. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
I glanced at Selena, my eyes widening into the universal sign for What the fuck?? You are so dead, then shuffled to the edge of the group with him.
“I…” He fiddled with the papers in his hands. “Um, good job at the meeting today. That bandage company was a great get for Breaking Glass.”
“Thanks,” I gushed. I’d been a nervous wreck, stuttering through my little pitch to the hosts, but they’d loved the idea. It had only been a small part of the meeting but it felt like I’d scaled a mountain. I was definitely gonna keep doing my Wonder Woman pose.
“Keep up the good work.” Derrick cringed at his words. “Sorry. That was lame.”
“No. I appreciate it,” I said, unsure how to act around him.
“I was wondering… and you can tell me to mind my own business, but…” His eyes skittered about the room. “Uh, are you dating Jackson?”
I scrambled for a response, rattled. “No. I mean… why? Did Prathi say something?”
“No,” he said. “Wait, so you are dating Jackson?”
I glanced at Selena who was not hiding her curious gaze, but she was too far away to hear the conversation.
“Er, no. I… no.” Which was technically true.
Had he seen the report Prathi had written up about the casual affair? I assumed Derrick, as the part owner, had a right to see anything that was reported to HR.
Isaac stepped on stage and tested the microphone.
Derrick cocked his head sideways like he was considering something, his eyes assessing me.
“It was nice to chat with you.” Derrick exhaled. “If you ever want anything else signed, let me know.”
He walked away tapping his forehead with the papers. I watched him and bit down on my bottom lip to contain my huge grin, giddy.
“What was that about?” Selena asked, bumping my shoulder with hers.
“I’m not sure,” I said turning to the stage. “He wanted to know about my relationship with Jackson.”
“Why? Are you guys in trouble?” Selena raised her eyebrows.
“I don’t think so. It was weird. Like Derrick was nervous.” I gave her a quick rundown of the conversation and then what he’d said at the end.
“He was flirting with you!” Selena squealed.
“Shhh.” I batted my hand at her.
“You are so clueless. I was watching him. He was nervous. I bet he was going to ask you out but since your whole body language said go away, he chickened out.”
I shifted my gaze back to him. He was staring at me, a miserable look on his face.
“You’re wrong. He doesn’t want to date me.”
“Who wants to date you?” Jackson came up beside me, his eyebrows raised in question.
“Panty-soaker Derrick Jacques,” Selena said.
Jackson made a show of scraping his gaze up and down Derrick’s body. “He is a fine specimen.”
I laughed, but my stomach flip-flopped nervously.
“If he does ask you out, you need to jump on that,” Selena said.
“Do you like him?” Jackson asked.
“Have you seen him?” Selena said. “He’s sexy as hell and has that whole hardcore cop thing about him.”
“He must be really experienced.” My internal thoughts popped out, and I threw my hand over my mouth.
“If you like him, we don’t have to go through with the agreement,” Jackson said.
“Oh,” I said surprised. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“No,” Jackson said definitively.
“Me either.” My mind wandered to Derrick. Had he been flirting? “I may need it more than ever.”
Selena swept her gaze down my maxi skirt.
“What are you wearing?”
I ran my hands over the light material, self-conscious. “You don’t like it?”
“I love it.”
“Oh.” I ducked my chin. “I thought you liked the booty shorts and skirts.”
Selena knitted her eyebrows together. “I do. On me.”
“You look great.” Jackson leaned in. “More relaxed.”
Derrick clapped his hands to grab everyone’s attention, and we turned to the small stage.
“Good evening, everyone. This is an introduction to self-defense. But it is also a lesson in what consent looks like. A woman shouldn’t have to protect herself; men need to stop assaulting women. Self-defense should be the last measure.”
A white screen rolled down from the ceiling behind him and an image came onto the screen. It was from a movie in the 90s where a young man is having sex with a woman who is passed out drunk.
“Is this consent?”
There were a few mumbles of no.
“Absolutely not.”
The image changed and a screenshot from a TV show came up.
“In the scene I’m about to play, the man is the woman’s boss. He has all the power in their relationship. They’re on a work trip. He has invited her to watch a movie in his hotel room.”
The clip began. It showed a boss seducing a much younger assistant. He hugged her, and she was obviously uncomfortable. Then the boss planted a kiss on her lips, and the assistant appeared shocked, frozen in place. The boss pushed her on the bed and took off her clothes. Her face showed fear but she didn’t stop him.
“Is this consent?” Derrick asked.
A few people mumbled no, but not as many.
“Did she say stop?”
I glanced at Jackson. His face had darkened.
“That was not consent,” Derrick continued. “The first line of defense to protect women is to teach men what consent looks like. The boss had all the power. He could fire her, and she knew it. It doesn’t matter that she went to his hotel room. It doesn’t matter that she never said the word no. He should never have put her in that situation.”
Derrick’s gaze blazed over the crowd, his voice low, his tone stern. I would not want to be on the other side of an interrogation table with him.
On top of an interrogation table… yes, please.
The thought surprised me.
“What are you smiling at?” Selena asked. “Naughty thoughts about the dick up there?”
My eyes widened into a mock incredulous look and we both chuckled silently. Jackson rolled his eyes at our sophomoric humor, which made us fold over, wracked with more laughter, my hands covering my mouth to contain any sound.
“Let me ask again. Was that consent?” Derrick asked.
“No,” Jackson’s voice boomed and I jumped.
Selena and I recovered, painting serious looks back on our faces.
The projector went dark and the tactical part of the training began. Jackson and I were paired together, and Selena was with Analise.
Derrick explained that most attackers want an easy target. Women needed to be aware of their surroundings and if someone approached them, they put their hands out defensively and told the person to stay where they were. It felt funny but it made sense.
We role-played back and forth several times, switching attacker and target.
We learned a few self-defense moves, like grabbing someone’s windpipe instead of their neck to choke them. It can easily be crushed. And the one that made my blood turn was how easy it is to scoop out someone’s eyeball. I’m not sure I could do that.
“Clutch your partner by the top of their hair.”
“Ready?” Jackson asked.
I nodded and he placed his hand on top of my head and gathered my hair into his hand. I performed the moves I’d just been taught, but as I went for an uppercut in front of his jaw, my toe caught on my long skirt and my palm hit Jackson square in the septum.
He cried out and dropped to his knees, his hands cupping his nose.
“Jackson!” I knelt in front of him, blood dripping between his fingers.
Derrick was beside me with a box of tissues. Jackson held a wad to his nose and leaned forward.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, my hand on his back.
He couldn’t speak with all the tissues over his mouth. His eyes were shut as he breathed through the pain.
“There’s an ice pack in the freezer,” Derrick said. “I’ll get it.”
Jackson shifted and the front of his shirt came into view. It was covered in blood.
“Do you have an extra shirt?” I asked, wanting to be useful but feeling helpless.
He nodded, his hand still over his face, unable to talk.
“In your office?”
He nodded again.
I swept his office and found a light blue athletic shirt in the backpack next to his desk.
“Do you have a spare shirt?” Jackson asked, entering his office. He had tissues stuffed in his nostrils and he held the ice pack to his nose.
I glanced down. My cream shirt was splattered with red spots.
“I can change later.” I held out the fresh shirt to Jackson.
He unbuttoned his soiled top and I helped him pull it down his arms, and stuffed it in his bag. There was blood on his chest from where it had seeped through the fabric.
“Wait.” I took tissues from his desk and poured a little water on them from a water bottle.
I walked to him, his warm spicy scent drifting into my senses. Heat snaked through my veins.
“You can do it.” I shoved the wet tissues in his hand, backing away.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes discerning.
“Yep.”
After he swiped his chest clean of the blood, he threw the tissues in the trash across the room and sat on the sofa.
“I’m so sorry.” I sat on the coffee table across from him and placed my hand on his arm.
“It’s fine,” he said, shaking me off. “An accident.”
He was close enough that warmth radiated from his naked chest, hitting my exposed skin. I averted my eyes. I’d soon be touching that chest and my body was responding to the sight of it, but now didn’t seem like the right time to be lusting after him.
His light eyes were steady on mine. “I dreamed about you last night,” he said.
“What kind of dream?” I asked. The walls felt like they were closing in, creating a small intimate space around us.
He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
“A sexy kind?” I asked, my voice dropping.
He nodded.
“Like a sex dream.”
“Like a blow job dream.”
Heat swirled between my thighs as an image of us together infiltrated my mind.
“Was I any good?” My voice dropped.
“Let’s just say I had to change my sheets.” Lust filled his eyes and I blinked rapidly.
His shirt was off, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I glanced between his legs.
“You’re hard,” I said surprised, a thrill running up my spine.
He didn’t move to hide it, and his eyes didn’t falter from mine.
“You turn me on, Peyton.”
“Oh.” I shifted, my knees brushing his, and a spark of desire shot between my thighs. “But you’re in love with—”
“Don’t,” he warned, his gaze hardening, which ignited the spark ablaze. “This is about you. This is how my body responds to you. I didn’t agree to this out of the goodness of my heart.”
I blushed and looked down at the white shag rug.
“Look at me,” he said. “I want you to hear me.”
“I hear you.” My voice was gruff, my cheeks flushed.
“Good.”
There was a knock on the door and I scooted back, Jackson sliding a decorative pillow onto his lap.
Selena sauntered in. “Damn it. I was hoping I’d walk into a soft porno—the whole nurse mending the fallen soldier cliché.”
“A nose bleed isn’t exactly sexy,” I said, although my racing heart would beg to differ.
“Time to go,” Selena said.
“Where are you going?” Jackson asked.
“To get Peyton’s stuff from her old apartment.”
Jackson shot to his feet, the pillow falling. “I’m coming with you.”
Selena’s eyebrows shot up, her gaze on his crotch. “Would you like us to give you a moment?”
“It’ll be gone soon,” he said unperturbed. “That motherfucker needs to learn a lesson.”
“Okay, Vin Diesel, but Chip’s not gonna be there. That’s why we’re going now.”
Jackson slid the clean shirt over his head, swung his shoulder bag on, and marched forward.
“What the hell did I walk in on?” Selena asked softly.
“A very promising start to our lessons,” I said.
“His chivalry to protect your honor is hot as hell. I think he may have turned me straight.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“True. Cocks do nothing for me. But if I shoved my hand down your pants right now, I bet there’d be a puddle of desire.”
I pushed her out the door.
It was more like a bucket.