A smile broke out on his face, blinding and bright. His hair was perfectly tussled, his eyes dark and twinkling. Fin Hunter wasstaggering. I let out an unsteady breath and hoped he assumed it was from nerves.
“Go line up, I’m going to stretch first,” he instructed.
I walked over to the starting line of the inside lane and did a few more calf stretches and then some high knees to warm up. The lights were still bright above me but the night beyond them was pitch dark. We were alone in the stadium, the only ones left on the track.
I breathed deeply a few times. I was really nervous for this. My fingers weren’t trembling anymore they were shaking. I felt the familiar nausea I always dealt with before every one of my races in high school. My throat itched, my forehead started sweating and my mouth salivated excessively.
I was going to puke.
Yep, it was time for a race.
Several times throughout my high school career I would vomit as soon as the race was over. It was like I got myself so worked up, so full of adrenaline that after it was over I had to get rid of it somehow.
My coach always had a paper bag waiting for me just off the finish line.
I hadn’t raced since I was in high school. This was going to be really embarrassing if I puked all over Fin.
“Alright, let’s go over the winnings one more time,” Fin said, taking his place in the sEcond lane, just a few feet ahead of me.
“Uh, su-sure,” I stuttered. Fin had lost his shirt over on the bench and was facing me all toned, long muscles and perfect abs. Holy hell, he was perfection. His arms and torso were elongated with sinewy muscles that rippled and stretched with every movement. His hips narrowed at his waist, pushing forward muscles I didn’t know existed. His broad shoulders flexed as he swung his arms around in more stretches. I bit my lip at the trail of darker hair making a path from his belly button to shorts and ahem, lower.
This was cheating.
He was cheating.
How in the world did he expect me to run now? I couldn’t even breathe! I was panting like I already ran around the track and now he wanted me to compete for a prize?
Bastard.
Fin continued as if I wasn’t drooling at the sight of him, “If you win, I erase your seven thousand dollar debt, you can stop working for me and we can forget your little gambling fiasco ever happened.”
“Because it never happened,” I picked my jaw up off the floor and replied self-righteously.
He returned a taunting smile which helped me remember what I was doing and where I was. I was about to kick his ass.
“If I win, you go on a date with me. I get to choose the night, the location and the time-frame,” he finished and his eyes were twinkling again as if the victory was already his. “I’ll even let you count us off.”
“How generous.”
“Are you ready?” he asked, provoking me again.
“Areyouready?” I asked. My eyes flickered to his chest again and I felt a weight press against my chest. I wasn’t ready. Not when he stood just feet away from me, his back to the track, poised to run. He was all male sexiness and all I wanted to do was forget the bet and lick his body from navel to earlobe.
Oh, gosh. Where did that thought come from???
“Count off, Ellie. Whenever you’re ready,” Fin reminded me.
I shook my head a little to focus. I could do this. I could beat him. I could play his game.
And then it hit me.
His game.
At which two could play.
If he wanted to be a cheater, so be it. But I also had cheating ways. I got into position, my knees bent, my feet poised; but instead of staring at the track ahead of me, visualizing my win, I stared straight into Fin’s eyes and held his gaze.
“On your mark,” I started, breathlessly…. seductively. My fingers grabbed the edge of my athletic t-shirt and I tugged it up just enough to reveal my stomach.
