Fuck. If the guys could hear my thoughts, I’d never live it down. This is all the ammunition they need to ruin me for the rest of my life. I can practically hear them laughing in my ear, seeing me run around like a senseless fool for a woman. A woman that can barely stand the sight of me, nonetheless.
It isn’t long before I’m pulling up to the same building as last night, and the same valet comes rushing to my door.
“Mr. Loving. Back again?” He asks, holding my door as I step out.
“Back again. I’m meeting Ms. San Ramón in the gym.” I reach back in and snatch my bag from the seat and discreetly pull out a twenty to pass to the valet.
“I can buzz her for you, if you’d like.” I hand him the money and tug the bag over my shoulder.
“She told me to text her when I arrived, so I’ll just wait in the lobby. Thank you.” He smiles with a nod, then slides into the driver’s seat and speeds away –carefully– in my car.
With a deep breath to calm my sudden nerves, I step through the glass doors and come face to face with the woman whose eyes make me weak in the knees.
“Oh geez,” she gasps as she slams into my chest.
“Woah. You okay?” She wobbles on her feet and I steady her, placing my hands on her biceps.
In her ears are wireless buds and her phone is in one hand. She was focused on her screen instead of where she was walking.
“I was just…” She pulls one earbud out and straightens her shoulders, something I’ve seen her do as a habit of collecting herself. “Sorry. I was just about to text you. Ready?”
The cold mask she wears is put firmly into place. Her professional mode is rarely turned off, from what I have experienced. But I’m determined not to let last night be a one off. I’ll get her to crack, sooner or later.
“I am. Lead the way.” I don’t push her buttons because it’s far too early to get her riled up.
At least in the wrong way. I’d love to rile her up in bed, find out what makes her laugh and what makes her eyes roll back in her head.
She spins on her heels and I get my first chance to scope her out. Her long legs are in full view as she wears a small pair of blue biker shorts, and only a black sports bra covers her breasts. I wasn’t able to get an adequate view of her cleavage with her hands clutched to her chest, but I’ll have plenty of time for that.
I smile at the small hairs that fall from her short ponytail she’s managed to pull her hair into. It’s youthful and softens her usual hard exterior. Her ebony hair is usually blunt and straight, much like her attitude towards me. But I can tell it’s all an act. Deep down, she’s not the cold woman she presents to the world.
The gym is quiet as we step in, only a handful of people. None of them look our way, each one lost in their own workout.
“I can’t take you into the women’s locker room–”
“Sadly,” I interrupt.
With a sigh and shake of her head, she continues. “But you’re welcome to set your stuff inside the men’s room. I’ll just stay here.”
She doesn’t wait for me to reply, and I hastily toss mybag in an open locker and meet her back in the main gym.
“So,” I say, clapping my hands together. “What do you usually start with?”
My voice booms through the mostly empty space, louder than I intended, and a couple people look at us. I can tell they recognize me, but make no move to stop their workouts.
“I like to run a couple miles on the treadmill. Can you talk and run at the same time?” I follow her to a row of treadmills and step on the one next to hers.
“Sweetheart…you’re forgetting who I am. I can do a lot of things while talking. Stick around and I’ll show you.” I wink and give her my winning smile, but only an eye roll is gifted back.
She presses start on her machine and bumps up the speed and incline. I do the same but increase the speed. I’m about to give this beauty a little taste of my stamina.
Our feet begin pounding the belt, our arms pumping back and forth. She’s focused on the large windows that sit across the room and look out onto the streets of Houston. They must be obscured by a tint on the outside because passersby’s don’t seem to notice.
Her lips pucker just slightly as air flows in and out, and I give myself a moment to admire her breasts as they bounce inside of her bra. The snug material does nothing to slow the bounce and succeeds in propping her breasts high. The outline of her nipples is faint but visible, and my eyes pick up on every detail.
A hand slams on the emergency stop button –on my machine– and I fall against the control board before landing with a thud on the now motionless belt. My knees burn from sliding over the rubber mat, and my pride is decimated.
“If this is going to be a problem, you can go right back home and forget this entire meeting.” She stands with her feet propped on the outer edge of the moving belt, her hands gripping the handle bars and keeping herself rigid.
