“You feel dirty afterward?” Amery asked softly.

Her directness surprised Presley. But their newest coworker didn’t know how Amery had struggled with her strict religious upbringing when it came to her sexuality. “No, I don’t feel dirty. I feel fantastic. He knows me now.” She briefly closed her eyes. “I’ve never let any guy know me like that because I’ve never trusted anyone like I do him.”

“It’s scary, powerful stuff—isn’t it?”

Molly’s eyes met Amery’s. “Very.”

“So you’re not really complaining.”

She shook her head. “I’m just tired.”

“Well, you have been spending all of your off-work hours with him,” Presley pointed out. “I miss hanging out with you.”

“Same. I’ll see if Fee and Katie are up for going out this weekend.”

Presley said, “Cool. Set it up. I’m in.”

“I’m out,” Amery said. “We’ll be at Knox and Shiori’s all day Saturday, spoiling Nuri, and Ronin has plans for us Saturday night.”

Molly was too chicken to ask if Ronin’s plans included an evening of twisting ropes on her at Twisted. “Too bad. We’ll knock back a margarita or two for you.”

Amery’s eyes bored into Molly’s. “You sure you’re okay? Nothing else going on with Deacon?”

She knew voicing her concerns about Deacon missing training yesterday, with his next fight coming up so soon, would violate a relationship rule, since she feared Amery would mention that to Ronin. Molly didn’t know whether Amery was aware that Ronin had put the kibosh on Deacon starting a relationship a few months ago, and again, she was too chicken to ask. She manufactured a believable smile. “That’s it. I’ve just never been oversexed. I should’ve come to you—our resident expert on being oversexed.”

“No such thing.” Amery stood and disappeared into her office.

Presley stood and tapped her palms on the desk. “Good talk.”

“You don’t have anything to share?”

“Trust me—if I was getting laid as much as you are? I’d be bragging about it all the damn time. You couldn’t shut me up about it.”

Molly held her next yawn until Presley was gone.

•   •   •

AFTER work she headed to the dojo and managed to catch both Katie Gardiner, who ran the Black and Blue Promotions arm of Black Arts, and Sophia “Fee” Curacao, a Brazilian jujitsu instructor, an MMA fighter, as well as Blue’s sister, upstairs in the Black and Blue Promotions office.

Beautiful blond Katie crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “My god. You are disgustingly well laid.”

Fee smacked Katie on the arm. “Shut it. Jealousy gives you wrinkles.”

“Ouch! Don’t do that, Fee. You’re a like a fourth-degree black belt; I’m a delicate flower and you hit like a man.”

“You deserved it. Be happy for our friend.”

“I am happy, but I’m still going to pout.”

“I think your Botox injections prevent that, K.” Then Fee waggled her eyebrows at Molly. “Hooking up with Deacon regularly has put a satisfied look in your eyes.”

“Umm . . . thank you for noticing?” Molly said.

“Hard not to,” Katie complained. “I need a man who makes my whole damn body glow like that. It’s been ages since I bumped uglies with a dude.”

“Maybe because you call sex bumping uglies? Anyway, it hasn’t been ages, ho-bag.” Fee tilted her head at her BFF, Katie. “Didn’t you and Ivan break your mattress last month?”

“Shh,” Katie hissed. “Ronin and Blue would ream us both if they found out.”

“Why? There’s not a ‘no fraternization’ policy at Black Arts, is there?” Molly asked.

Katie shook her head. “Between an instructor and a student like you and Deacon? No. But people might think I’m giving Ivan more press time and coverage if it’s discovered he’s giving me the Russian salami.”

“Seriously, Katie, what is wrong with you?” Fee demanded, her voice escalating. “The Russian salami?”

“The what?” Blue asked as he strolled in and grabbed a folder off Katie’s desk. “Did you say Russian salami?”

“Yes, we were talking about sandwiches,” Katie lied with a straight face.

“If you’re making a sandwich run, I’ll try a Russian salami.” He tossed out, “Make sure it’s twelve inches,” before he left the room.