Me: You can make me hot and sweaty all over again later ;) xx
I love being flirtatious with him, and I have no doubt that he will hold me to my words later this evening.
I grab up my belongings and head downstairs. After picking up some shorts, a sports tank, running shoes and a set of headphones, I head into the gym. I pass one gentleman who is leaving as I enter. He smiles a tight smile and heads off. The gymis now empty. No one at all in sight and although this is great as I can work my way around the machines as I please, there was a part of me that wanted to train in a buzzed, busy room and feel the atmosphere that surrounds it.
I glance around and survey the equipment. I thought I had top of the range gym equipment at Aaron’s house, but seeing this room, I’m not so sure. Every piece of machinery is pristine. The metal gleams and there is not a fingerprint in sight on the touch screen consoles.
Mirrors line one wall and cross trainers, treadmills and rowing machines line the other. There is a free weights section on the far side, and other resistance machines dotted around the free spaces. A regular beat pushes through the built-in speakers around the ceiling ensuring you have music and a rhythm to work out to wherever you are positioned and all the cardio machines have a headphone jack.
I always work out to music. I’m disappointed that I left my music player behind when I left Aaron. I could store music on my new cell, but I haven’t had it long enough to think about it. I love music. I love how it can stir such deep responses just by tempo or beat.
I warm up on one of the cross trainers, and it takes me nearly five minutes to figure out how the damn thing works but once it gets going it’s great. The action is smooth and uninterrupted and I’m soon in the zone and enjoying the stretch of my muscles.
I haven’t exercised since leaving Aaron’s and after being so used to doing it every day, I’ve missed it. I come to a halt after twenty minutes and make my way to the soft matted area to stretch before using the free weights. The music is feeding through the speakers in the ceiling so I still feel buzzed and ready to push my muscles a little harder.
I stretch my back out by bending forward fully and placing my hands flat on the floor. I’ve always been very flexible. I learnedto keep supple as a young girl when I went to ballet lessons and even though I haven’t danced since I was eleven years old, I have kept up the exercises that keep your muscles strong and flexible. I lift my heel and hold it tight to my body, regulating my breathing and keeping my balance without a wobble. I hold like this until I feel the stretch ease and repeat with the other leg. I lie flat on the matting and pull one knee up to my chest, holding for a count of ten then releasing and doing the same with the other one.
When I sit upright, ready to stand, I gasp.
Standing in front of me is Denham, wearing the smirk to end all smirks. His dimple is in full force and he looks hot as hell in gym pants and a racer back tank that shows off his broad shoulder muscles and wide back.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi, yourself.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m watching you,” he answers unapologetically.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Here? Oh, not long. I was standing in the doorway long enough to see your tight ass pointing north when you started stretching though.”
I shake my head at him. “You’re cute, you know that?”
He moves fast gripping the back of my head with one hand and my waist with the other. “I’ve told you before Arianna, I am not fucking cute,” he speaks against my lips before stealing a kiss and releasing me. It leaves me breathless and I breathe deep to regain my control.
“You can continue if you like…” he offers, taking up residence on the closest weight bench. He sits comfortably with one ankle resting on his knee.
“You come here to watch or you actually gonna work out with me?”
“I don’t know what I’d take more pleasure in, watching you get all hot and sweaty or actually get hot and sweaty with you.” He rubs his chin with his thumb and forefinger while he thinks about his own statement. I don’t miss the gold glint in his eyes, and I know his mind is veering away from actually working out with me.
“Train with me on the punch bag.”
“You want to throw some punches, Stunner? I already know you have a pretty mean right knee,” he jokes.
“Come on, I’ve never done it, pleeeeeeease…” I bounce in front of him from one foot to the other, side to side and he laughs.
“Fine, come with me but don’t blame me if you hurt tomorrow.”
“Why would I hurt tomorrow?”
“You wanna work out? Let’s work out…” He punches a fist into the flat of his hand, making a slapping noise that reverberates around the room and I know he means business.
Eeek, now I’m a little nervous.
We gear up in the segregated area of the gym room. I have on padded gloves and he’s holding up a pad in each hand. “Okay, hold your hands up like this,” he demonstrates before continuing, “then strike the pad. Try to catch me off guard.”
