But when that girl turned, oh yeah, he forgot the guy even existed.
Because there was Faith in some tight as hell workout clothes, her tits on even better display than ever before, her generous hips in all their perfect abundance below a slim waist and above toned thighs. Her work clothes weren't exactly over the top, but he had gotten a good eyeful of her body. Though, he got a much more intimate eyeful of her body in all that spandex material.
It was the first time he got to see her with her hair back though, removing all the distraction away from her face that was all but makeup free- just seeming to have a trace of some mascara. It was like a kick to the gut to realize that even without the window dressing, she was still the epitome of drop dead fucking gorgeous.
She moved around calmly, with ease, with the proof of a lot of practice as she addressed the group of completely mesmerized young girls. There was no giggling, no goofing off, no messing around. They were apt. They were hanging on every word she said like it was life or death, and judging by the seriousness of Faith's face as she spoke to them, that was because she was teaching it as though it was.
Which was good. Because, unfortunately, some day... it might be for one of them.
When he critiqued her and offered to demonstrate a new move with her, feeling her struggle against his hold, he genuinely thought he had her. Only to realize when they showed it again that nothing was further from the truth. While she might not have done the move before like he did it with her, she knew exactly how to get away. Everything she taught was right- go for the eyes, nose, throat, and groin; attack only until he is injured enough for you to be able to get away; always turn to face someone and demand to know if they are following you if you think they are following you because attackers are less likely to complete an attack if you show a dominant move like that.
Nothing she taught put any guilt on a victim. She didn't preach about going to the bathroom or to clubs in groups. She didn't tell them to watch what they wore. She didn't tell them to placate men so things wouldn't escalate.
No.
She showed them exactly what to do if, through no fault of your own because there was never any fault of your own, someone came at you.
It was all straight out of the self-defense playbook with some Krav Maga mixed in and some altering of moves to make up for the fact that most of the girls would be much smaller than their attackers.
It was perfect.
She was perfect.
"Shit," he hissed at himself as he unlocked his doors.
That was exactly the kind of thinking that would get him in trouble on the job, would fuck with his head, would make him sloppy or unaware.
Things with Faith, they were going to happen. He accepted that fact. But he couldn't let that cloud his judgment or get in the way of his job. They were two separate things.
"So, from what I can tell, she's not dirty," Max's voice stopped him dead as he closed his apartment door.
"The fuck are you doing here?" he snapped, dropping his gym bag on the floor.
True, he had given him keys, but that wasn't an open invitation and he fucking well knew that too.
Max held up a hand, shaking his head. "I couldn't exactly sit outside your apartment and wait for you, Daniel. We can't be seen together."
That was true enough.
"My phone bill is up to date and the ringer is on," he said, going toward the kitchen to put coffee on, only to find that Max had already made a pot so he poured a cup instead.
"Haven't seen you in a while. You're a good liar on the phone, but I can see through you in person," he said with a shrug as he reached for his coffee cup on the table next to the chair and took a sip.
"What do you think I'm lying about exactly?"
"Maybe lying is a strong word- omitting."
"And I might be omitting..."
"That you have something going on with the sexy bartender."
"Alright," he said, leaning back against the wall. "I have something going on with the sexy bartender."
"Fucking Grade A Prime piece there, man," Max said with a serious nod. If there was one thing Max was serious about, outside of work, it was women. "I fucking hate that expensive shit I was drinking at Lam, but I had to get a refill just to get another close look at her. That fucking face..." he trailed off on a exaggerated sigh. "Don't blame you in the least. But I feel it's my duty here to remind you how important it is to not have your head get mixed up, to let your emotions get in the way of the job."
"I've been doing this just as long as you, Max," Daniel said, shaking his head.