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Somewhere along the way, Rachel seriously screwed up. She didn’t know when exactly it happened, how she went from enjoying Emilio’s company to actively seeking it. Didn’t know where the switch from friendship to wanting a whole lot more occurred, but she couldn’t deny it was there. They had spent weeks in each others’ pockets, hour after hour after hour working and playing together and somehow she was still not tired of the guy. The complete opposite, actually. Somewhere along the way, Rachel tripped and fell in love with the one soccer player she’d ever met who didn’t want to fu*k her.
So maybe she couldn’t really be blamed for completely losing her mind.
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She found the guy at some club off the Boulevard. He was tall and broad with dark hair and dark eyes and, while the musculature wasn’t perfect, it was at least passable. His name was Mark and he worked at a gym downtown part-time and was an amateur soccer player, not that Rachel particularly cared. It was the way Mark looked at her, like Rachel was an all-you-can-eat buffet in the middle of the Sahara, that sealed the deal. This was exactly what she needed right now.
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Standing at five foot eleven and close to a hundred and fifty pounds, Rachel was not a small girl. Add to that her years of training and she was a pretty hard girl to take down in a fight. But Mark was still a good four inches taller and a solid thirty pounds heavier at least. And yeah, that’s exactly what Rachel had been looking for, sure, but now that she was here, now that this was actually happening, she was maybe starting to panic.