I stepped out of my car, ignoring the slight trembling in my fingers as I walked toward the small boathouse that sat along the edge of the lake, a personal dock extending into the water. Dark green trees hugged either side of it, giving it a private feel. And of course, it would. Hendrix wouldn’t have it any other way.
And speaking of Hendrix…
I stepped onto the wooden porch, ducking under the opened entryway.
Hendrix looked immaculate, the tight black speedo shorts hugging every inch of muscle along his legs, and the speedo shirt? It did nothing to hide every ridge of his abs. His golden blond hair was drenched with sweat, his cheeks glistening with exertion as he hauled his rowing boat up into its proper place inside the house.
The dock jostled slightly from his movements, and my heart stuttered against my chest. The sight of him ratcheted up every emotion and need and craving I had since our kiss four days ago.
Hendrix spun around and jolted at the sight of my presence. "What are you doing here, Savannah?"
I raised my hands in an innocent, pleading gesture. "I came here to apologize," I said, and Hendrix crossed his arms over his chest, his chin tipping up slightly as he surveyed me from a safe distance across the dock.
"How did you know I'd be here?"
I furrowed my brow as if the answer was obvious. "It's Tuesday morning," I said just like I had to London. "You row every Tuesday morning."
The slightest, tiniest smirk shaped his perfect lips. "Careful," he said, his voice going low, “or you'll sound like a groupie."
I rolled my eyes. "Please," I said. "We both know I'm the furthest thing from one of your fangirls. Just because I happen to know a few details about your schedule, thanks to being surrounded by your friends and family all the time, doesn't mean I'm a stalker."
Hendrix took one step closer, but still far enough away not to touch. "You said something about apologizing?"
I blew out a breath and nodded. Why was it so easy to get off track when Hendrix irked me? "I did," I said. Sucking in a sharp breath to regain my bearings. Focus. "I am sorry that I didn't tell you who I was at the party."
Hendrix swallowed hard.
"I should have told you, but…" How could I possibly explain it to him? "Look, it really sucks being me sometimes. Being Coach Goodman's daughter. It makes people either too afraid to get close to me or only want to get close to me for one reason. Status. Fame. Whatever. And I thought Trevor was different. But he wasn't. Turns out that he and just about every other frat house boy of his had a bet going.” I sighed, shoving down the pain that came with my admission. “Whoever could get into Coach Goodman's daughter's pants first." My words were gritty as I admitted the truth, as I revealed that open wound to him. Laid myself bare before him. The biceps crossed over his chest flexed, but I hurried to continue. "And I don't ever want to be put in that situation again. I don’t want people bartering over me because of who I am. Because of what they can gain from me."
"So, who do you want me to kill?" he asked, the question so easily rolling off his lips like it wasn't even a second thought.
And I could see it there in his eyes—those gorgeous, stunning sky-blue eyes. He would, without hesitation, turn Trevor into a walking hospital trip. All I had to do was ask. And I let out a sigh, smacking my hands against my thighs. "Why is it easier to contemplate murdering somebody for me than it is to do this one little thing —"
"What one little thing?" Hendrix cut me off. His arms fell to his sides. "Savannah, I didn't know who you were. You deceived me—"
"You said it didn’t matter!” I fired back, then took a steadying breath. “But still, I’m trying to apologize for that," I said. "Hendrix, you have no idea how freeing it felt. To just be wanted on the most basic and primal of levels. You may experience that all the time, but me? I don't. Because everybody only sees me as the coach's daughter—untouchable or attainable only for gain."
Understanding flashed in his eyes, but it was gone in a blink.
"I don't know what you want me to do here," he finally broke the silence. "I'll happily talk to these assholes for you. They had no right to do that to you. And trust me, I'd be more than willing to teach them the error of their ways."
"I don't need you to do that," I said, raking my fingers through my long hair. Could he really not see what I wanted? Was he really so blind by the untouchable filter my father had put on the entire team?
Hendrix raised his hands in the air, genuine, unfiltered confusion flashing across his face. "Then what do you want me to do?"
I swallowed the nerves tangling a knot in my throat and walked across the dock separating us. Hendrix moved back a step as if our close proximity terrified him.
Defeat threatened to silence my words, but I pushed past that internal wilting feeling and stood my ground.
“I want you," I said, wetting my lips as my mouth suddenly went dry. "I want you to take what they were wagering for. I want you to give me my power back."
Hendrix tilted his head, understanding at the edge of his narrowing eyes, but not fully there.
So I popped a hand on my hip and said without any hint of shame or embarrassment or hesitance, "I want you to take my virginity, Hendrix."
5
Hendrix
“You’re a virgin?” My eyes just about popped out of my head before I could school my features. Savannah Goodman was one of the most confident, intelligent women I’d ever met, and she held herself like she owned her sexuality in every aspect.
How the hell was she still a virgin? I’d felt her under me, tasted how passionate she was. If I’d ever been lucky enough to call Savannah Goodman my girlfriend, I definitely would have given us both reasons to explore the depths of her inherent sensuality.
But no one had.
Say yes. Say yes. Say yes. The devil on my shoulder was practically dancing.
“That’s the point you’re hung up on?” She rolled her eyes.
“It’s a pretty big point.” I grabbed a towel from my locker and rubbed the sweat off my neck. Rowing was my favorite workout—full-bodied, quiet, and came with the incentive that if I stopped before it was complete, I was stuck in the middle of the river. That’s where I should have stayed—in the middle of the river. Where I was safe from my overwhelming need for Savannah.
“It’s really not,” she argued. “It’s just a technicality.”
“No, it’s not just a technicality.” I grabbed two bottles of water out of the case I kept stored in my boathouse locker and tossed one at Savannah, who caught it easily. It was second nature to look after her—I’d been doing it for years, but her request was…enticing, intoxicating, maddening.
Ludicrous. It was ludicrous, no matter how loudly my body argued her way. Speaking of my body, I did not need to give her any more encouragement, so I slipped on a pair of loose athletic shorts over my rowing gear to cover the rising evidence of my very real interest.
“Why? Because some man decided thousands of years ago that his penis had the right to magically transform women from maidens to mothers…or whores?” She folded her arms under her breasts and arched an eyebrow, leaving her water unopened as she stared me down with those gorgeous brown eyes.