There's something intoxicating about the way Rumlow's scent and cologne mix to overload my senses with a feeling I can't describe. The closest word I have for it is lust, but it's not that simple.
It's a combination of anxiety and adrenaline rush, brought on by the realization that anyone could walk in on us at any minute.
I can't get over how wrong it feels, even as he pushes me onto my back and straddles me, his lips never leaving mine. His strong hands, which had once so innocently applied boxing tape to my hands, now find their way beneath my t-shirt, his rough palms still covered in tape as his fingers travel along my skin, sending tingles through my body. I run my hands along the nape of his neck, and his muscles become tense as his breathing pattern changes.
He breaks the kiss off, looks me in the eyes, then at my lips.
"Lessons are over." His voice holds a husky edge, and he must have noticed it too, because he doesn't say another word as he removes himself from me, running a hand through his hair.
Yeah, I figured. We kind of compromised the platonic nature of this relationship.
I watch his profile as he stands, trying to find any sign of regret on his face… or a sign of anything else for that matter. He's definitely not a man who shows you what he's thinking.
It'd be an endearing trait, if it didn't make it that much more difficult to know what he thinks of me.
"You let me win that last round though. Don't think I didn't notice." I try my best to continue on with a normal conversation, but my heart is beating hard, my skin still tingling from his touch.
"You could tell?" He raises an amused eyebrow at me, and I wonder if he had really expected me to believe his little act. I know he could have easily taken me down at any point during that spar. He let me kick him. He let me escape from his headlock.
"I watched you fight with the subject. I should have a black eye and a broken nose right now." I roll my eyes, getting to my feet. "And also, you fight alongside Captain America. If I could defeat you, you wouldn't be on the Strike team, would you?"
He smiles, biting his lip in that damn charming way that makes me want to kiss him again.
I need a cold shower.
"New offer, under new conditions." He rips the boxing tape from his hands.
"What's that?" I grab a towel from the bench.
"I'm going for dinner at Benny's tomorrow night. Open invitation. Your call." He says it so casually, I have to think about his words twice before I realize what he's getting at.
"That's a really strange way to ask someone out." I laugh.
"I'm not asking. I'm a busy man." He tilts his head slightly, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.
Oh, not this again. I sigh.
"Are you going to drop that any time soon?" I walk past him towards the exit, and he grabs my arm, pulling me backwards into his embrace.
"Convince me to." He whispers, his lips just grazing my ear as he presses something into my palm. Then he slips past me and leaves the training facility without as much as a glance back.
I examine the object in my hand. It's a piece of the boxing tape he'd torn off. Don't know when he managed to find a pen, but there are some illegible numbers scrawled on to it.
It's a phone number.
That smooth jerk.