Adam

I've never been kicked in the nuts by a man before. Women, sure. But not men.

But I've known a man who was taken to the hospital after getting kicked in the nuts.

He lost one of his testicles.

Not that I'm planning to have any kids. But I don't want to be the guy with a missing nut.

"So...He was a good instructor, after all," the little brat says from the driver's seat. Yes. She had to drive us back to her apartment.

"I'm going to kill you."

"Killing me softlyyy, with his soul. Killing me softlyyy, with his soooul." She sings.

"It's song."

"I know it's a song. Duh."

I rub my face, trying not to laugh.

"Don't be such a sore loser, Adam." She speaks in a stupid baby voice. "Aw. Is little Adam embarrassed he got his tooshy demolished? Or should I say, his wee-wee demolished?"

"Selena?"

"Hm?"

"Shut up."

She chortles, making me crack back a smile, which I hide behind my hand.

A thousand years later, we finally make it back to her place.

"You're the worst driver I've ever met." I open my door to get out the moment that she parks.

She ran under a red light. Skipped three stop signs. Missed the exit. And almost killed an old woman who was crossing the street.

"Fuck." I hiss, masking the pain as I open her door.

"You know what you need, Adam? You need a nice, warm bath. With epsom salts."

"No, I don't." I roll my eyes, nudging her forward with my palm on her low back.

"I'm serious!" She gasps once we reach the flight of stairs. "See, if I were strong, I'd totally carry you up bridal style."

I lose it this time, chuckling against my will. I hold onto the railing like a two-hundred-year-old man, forcing my legs to carry me up.

"Booty." Selena comments behind me.

"Stop."

"Sorry." A second later. "Booty, booty, booty, booty, yeah. Booty, booty, booty, booty, yeah. Booty, booty, yeah. Booty, booty, yeah."

I don't even take her sexual jokes serious anymore. She's a horny lunatic. And she blurts every random thought that pops into her head.

I miss the days when she didn't like me. It was more peaceful back then.

"Adam. I understand your job is to be tough all the time and intimidate people. But it's just the two of us." She rambles as I reach for the apartment keys in my back pocket. I wonder if her neighbors can hear us.

I still don't trust this place. And every time we leave her apartment, I remember the first night her door was left open, and how we still don't know if it was because someone had broken in.

"Shut up for a second." I strain my hearing to detect any movement behind the door.

"You're allowed to show your emotions. You're allowed to be vulnerable. It doesn't matter if it's emotional pain or physical pain. For your mental health, you—"

I cover her mouth with my palm. "Shut up."

To my surprise, she doesn't flinch at all. Her big innocent eyes blink at me, and she looks down at my hand, drawing my attention to our size difference. Jesus Christ. One hundred percent, I can kill her with just a punch in the face.

I lower my hand, nodding in approval when she doesn't open that annoying mouth again.

As if now realizing why I wanted her to be quiet, she shifts behind me and tiptoes as I lead us inside. The pain between my legs fades away. It's not important right now. What's important is the loaded gun behind my belt and blocking Selena with my body, in case anything happens.

Once every corner is inspected to my satisfaction, I feel a little more calm. But unfortunately, that also means, I'm more aware of the pain I'm in.

"Okay! Back to more important topics." Selena claps her hands in front of her body. "May I suggest lavender?"

"Huh?"

"Lavender essential oil. It promotes relaxation, stress relief—"

"I'm not taking a bath."

"I'll draw it for you. Just trust me."

"No." I sit back on the couch, spreading my legs into a more comfortable position.

"Adam, please let me draw you a bath? I have really good reasons. Can I explain?"

"I would like some painkillers and silence."

"You got it, but first of all, you sleep on this couch. Right?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Yeah?"

"I'm sure your back is in a lot of pain. You don't even fit in there. Just fyi, feel free to sue my dad if you get a disc herniation." She inhales deeply from running out of breath. "Anyway! What I'm trying to say, is that a bath will alleviate all those knots. And since I've been a useless dumbass who's put your family in danger, please let me make it up to you with this small act of service."

My annoyance dissipates, allowing me to read her emotions better. Guilt. Anxiety. But worst of all? Shame.

"Sweetheart...it's not your fault."

"Yes, it is. You don't need to make me feel better. I can handle the truth. I should've used this." She taps the side of her head aggressively.

"You want the truth?" I look at her. "You left your bachelorette party so that your employee could go take care of his sick sister. That's the truth."

I sit forward to remove my gun and place it on the coffee table. The movement fires pain straight to my balls, wringing my stomach with nausea.

"I'm drawing you a bath." She turns, strutting into the bathroom. "Plus, you need to eat something before you take painkillers, anyway."

"I'm not taking a—"

"You're taking it!"

"No, I'm not!"

She kneels by the vanity mirror and opens the cabinet, then starts removing everything. Bottles, boxes, plastic containers, makeup products.

"Don't look!" She scolds me over her shoulder, running to her bedroom. A minute later, she pokes her head out. "What'd I just say?"

I roll my eyes to the side, then look back.

"You're looking again!"

I glare away, grinding my jaw for patience.

The water's been running for twenty minutes in the bathroom, making me anxious. What's she doing in there? I've seen people take baths in horror movies. But those end with a hairdryer frying the naked person to death.

Meanwhile, Selena cackles as she runs out on her tiptoes and comes my way. Like a little gremlin.

"It's ready!"

"Congratulations."

"Come on! Don't be so meeean."

"Please, stop whining."

"Make me." She smirks at my cold glare. "You can't? Guess what, I'm not going to stop. Get that tooshy in the tub. Get that tooshy in the tub. Get that tooshy, tooshy, tooshy, tooshy, tooshy, tooshy, tooshy, tooshy—"

"Okay!" I stand up.

"Yaaay."

You know what, at this point, death doesn't sound too terrible. I feel like I'm creeping towards a haunted house, with clowns and chainsaws.

Her bathroom is barely enough for one person. I never fit in that shower. I have to duck my head in order to shampoo my hair. And every time I sit on the toilet, I feel like a giant.

But now, instead of just being small, the bathroom has turned into a Barbie house. The tub is overflowing with bubbles. There's candles everywhere. She decorated a wooden bath caddie with a fashion magazine, a glass of wine, and a cheese board with grapes and crackers.

"What is this?" All I can do is wheeze with laughter. I can't believe she did all of this.

"It's a spa session! You deserve some quality pampering. You're always so uptight." She taps on her phone and plays some instrumental music with waterfall sounds. "Would you like a joint?"

This adorable woman is marrying that son of a bitch? The thought makes me want to drive my fist into a wall. She's too fucking precious.

"I am not taking a bath, sweetheart. Thank you for going out of your way to do this, but you can take it."

"What?" Her smile washes away. "Really?"

Ah, fuck. No, no, no. That's not going to work on me. No way.

"I have to be ready for threats at all times." I explain. "If something happened while I was—"

"Keep the gun next to you! And you can leave the door open, I won't come out of my room. I swear."

"I don't know..." I look around the dark, steamy bathroom, flickering with candlelight.

This is the cutest shit anyone's done for me.

"I'm going to my room, just let me know when you're done!" She runs off, leaving me alone.

What kind of a thirty-two-year-old professional would take a girly bath in a client's bathroom?

I can't do it.

I take a step towards the door, heading back to the couch. But her hopeful face pops into my mind. Those shimmering eyes and dimpled smile, that makes me want to squish her face.

Fine.

I'll entertain it for like, two minutes. Just to say that I've done it.

It ends up being an hour, instead.

The way those epsom salts melted my muscles had my eyes rolling to the back of my head. The moment I sank in the hot water, a weight of pressure dissolved from my body. She was right. This was really relaxing. And I enjoyed the snacks and wine.

I take the painkillers she left for me, then rinse off in the shower. I clean up as much as possible, leaving most of the stuff for Selena to organize, since I don't know where to put them.

I walk into the kitchen to grab some sparkling water, when Selena comes out of her room.

"Did you enjoy that?" The grin on her face tells me she already knows the answer to that.

I smile back. "Yeah, yeah..."

"Did you like your bubbles?"

"Yes, I liked my bubbles."

"Did you enjoy your wine."

"The wine was okay. I would've preferred whiskey."

"Next time. Oh, we can even go buy it today. By the way, I wanted to ask. Is there anything you need to do?"

"Hm?" I lean against the counter, sipping on my water,

"Do you want to go somewhere? Like outside?"

Is she...asking what I think she's asking? Like, on a date?

I shake my head. No. Of course not. There's no way she means that.

"What for?"

"Like laundry, bills, I don't know, running to the bank. Taking your clothes to dry cleaning... Basic, normal, human stuff. Since you 'work' for me twenty-four/seven."

"Oh." I didn't think she'd be open to leaving her apartment unless she absolutely needed to. "Really? You'd be okay with that?"

"What's that supposed to mean? Why wouldn't I be okay with treating you with basic, human respect? Is that how low you think of me?"

What? She sounds just like her dad.

"I'd love to go to the gym, honestly."

She curls her upper lip. "The gym? Really? Out of all the places in the world—why am I even surprised? You love torturing yourself."

"I think you need a bath."

Or a spanking, if we're being completely honest. Though I doubt Marc even knows how to use his dick. He probably holds it with tweezers.

"Oh, you don't know the things that I need, honey. Okaaay?" She puts her palm in my face, before walking away. "I'm going to go change."

I switch into workout clothes too, which is basically my gym shorts and a muscle t-shirt. I can't take my gun with me, but the gym right down the street is full of security cameras, plus multiple security guards on site.

It's not the smartest move, but we can't stay locked in here forever. Plus, it's better if we keep our schedule unpredictable. Gives the stalker less opportunity to track our next move.

We sign up at the front desk. It's twice the price of the one I used to go to in Downtown, but it's safe and clean. And I love that it's an open space with mirrors everywhere. It lets me see everything and track everyone's actions.

Lowering on a yoga mat in the stretching zone. Selena and I do our own warm-up routine. I flex my legs in front of me and reach for my toes, barely able to move. My hamstrings are tight. I haven't worked out in over two weeks, now my whole body is stiff and complaining.

From the corner of my eye, I check on Selena, only to find her twisted up like a soft pretzel.

She's wearing giant headphones as she slides into an easy side split.Then she curls her front leg inward and twists her upper body, hugging her back foot towards her chest.

How...

"Are you surprised by how strong I am?" She gloats, stretching into a plank position, before diving her hips up into a downward dog.

My eyes trail over her round ass in those black yoga pants. Yeah, I'm sure the college guys in the back are enjoying the view too.

"You're not strong, you're just insanely flexible," I grumble.

"It's called hypermobility." She folds her legs like a W before lying on her back. "Very common for neurospicy people. You should see how I sleep!"

I'd rather not.

The last thing I need is to picture what she looks like in bed.

Spread open.

Begging.

Coming.

Begging again.

I shake my head, groaning from the surge of adrenaline burning through my body.

Forget it.

We're never crossing that line.

A/N
Oh, Adam. Just wait to see what I have for you in two chapters, sucker.

Anyone else here super flexible? Or are you more like Adam?

Let me see you flex that finger and vote for this chapter, you sexy thing. Oooh, so hot.