We’re currently replacing most of the equipment. However, a few items, including a couple of treadmills, an elliptical, and some free weights, are still available for the current staff, which is primarily comprised of administrative personnel. The entire gym is being renovated before the season starts, and it’s long overdue.
I head towards the treadmill while I choose a playlist and connect to the gym speakers. Exercise is always better with music.
As I begin my usual warm-up pace, my muscles loosen and relax, and my muscle memory takes over. My mood ramps up automatically with the opening riff from Disturbed’s “The Vengeful One.”
My guilty pleasure is heavy rock bands. I’m a die-hard Disturbed fan. I love how music can make you feel seen even when you’re alone and scared. I’ve gotten through some of the most challenging times of my life with the help of music. When you’re so full of anger and sorrow that you feel like you might explode if it doesn’t come out, but you literally are unable to express it, sometimes music is the only way. I get it, though, I don’t seem very much like a heavy rock kind of person. It seems so different from the perfectly coiffed and groomed part of me that everyone sees, or rather, that I let them see. There’s a whole other side to me that is just beginning to see the light of day.
The real me is as angsty as an Evanescence song and twice as emotional. However, that has never been safe in my world, so I don’t show it. Not when my husband was alive or now as the owner of an NHL team. Even when I wish I could.
I love how an angsty song can hit you in the feels. Those are the kind of songs that get you immersed in the music. It’s so freeing because with headphones, it’s so private. It can all be going on in your head, yet no one but you can hear it.
My music soothes that hidden part of me—the part that yearns. The part that craves more than just “okay” and “fine.” The part of me that Kurt never saw. My refuge, my hiding place, where no matter how much he hurt or humiliated me, I never let him touch it. I shiver slightly from all the toxic memories.
Don’t go there. That’s the past, and it’s over. He’s dead, and he can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe now.
I increase my speed until I’m running flat out as the song changes again. Lizzy Hale’s voice fills the gym with the soulfulsound of “I Miss the Misery.” I press the volume up on my phone without slowing my pace. I let the music drown out all the noise in my head and run. I run like I can outpace all these terrifying new feelings for Damon, my insecurities about this job, and my fear of failure. I run until I can’t feel anything but the endorphins kicking in. I run until the high lets me leave everything behind and simply exist.
Disturbed’s version of “Sound of Silence” brings me back to reality, and I glance down at my smartwatch, which is tracking my progress on my running app. I’ve run for forty-five minutes, so I slow my pace and start my cool-down. I designed my playlist specifically to match the rhythm of my run for a reason, so that I can get lost in my run. It’s incredibly cathartic.
Fitness apps are fantastic. They help me keep track of everything: my exercise, what I eat, and my step count. Give me an app with that little checklist of accomplishments, and I’m all over it. That dopamine hit of satisfaction that comes from checking something off your to-do list is one of my favorite motivators.
My breathing evens out as I slow to a walk. By the time the first strains of Teddy Swims “Lose Control” pulse through the speakers, I’m through my cool down. I love this song, so I just stand on the sides of the equipment and listen for a few minutes as the soulful rhythm slithers along my skin. It throbs through my body as it reignites my libido with a vengeance.
Aaaannnd I’m thinking about Damon again. Damn it!
About that kiss, my hands on him, and his hands on me. What would it feel like to have his tongue follow his hands? My clit throbs, and I’m suddenly damp between my legs, aching for him in a way I never knew was possible. My body’s as tight as a bowstring, singing with need.
I stretch to dispel the tension, but the sensual movement just increases the ache. The treadmill stops, but I don’t even notice. It doesn’t matter. I’m lost in the sultry beat of the music. Closing my eyes, I run my hands down over my chest, lingering on my breasts, fingers running lightly over my hard nipples, losing myself to my imagination and wishing it was his touch.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Damon
I slam the door of my truck and stalk towards the arena. I forgot my laptop, and I still have work to finish tonight to prep for tomorrow’s meeting. I was almost home from that disastrous dinner before I even noticed it wasn’t with me. I’m so fucking tired. Dinner took all my available energy, and the last thing I wanted to do was stop by the arena. It certainly won’t be my first late night, but it really wasn’t part of my game plan.
Sleep is for the weak.
I’m so up in my head that I don’t see Jos’ car until I practically walk into it, but there it is, in all its cherry-red glory. I stop to admire it, giving it the reverence a beautiful machine like that deserves. I glance at my watch and notice it’s almost ten. Why is she here this late—and alone by the looks of it? The protector in me pokes his head out and growls, insisting I check on her safety.
I swipe my access card and stride toward the administrative employee elevator bank, but a loud thumping from the hallway distracts me. What the hell is that noise, and why is it so damn loud? Is that music coming from the gym? Where the hell is Eddie? The gym isn’t even complete yet. There are only a few cardio machines and a small weight set because we’re still waiting for the additional equipment to arrive.
For God’s sake, that music is deafening, and there shouldn’t be anyone here at this hour. Concerned, I abandon the elevator bank, swerving toward the hall to the gym. Walking quickly, I reach the door, which vibrates from the bass speakers. What the hell? I open the door, ready to blast some inconsiderate idiot, but the sight of Joslyn floors me, and I forget to breathe.
Holy fuck! She’s the most erotic sight I’ve ever seen. She’s standing by the treadmill with her eyes closed, lost in the sway of the music, and it’s mesmerizing. Her body undulates to the deep, slow beat as she runs her hands over her breasts and down her hips. It’s so uninhibited and so fucking hot. I realize that maybe for the first time, I’m seeing the real Joslyn. She’s fucking stunning. My dick agrees, straining the front of my charcoal dress pants. Lust spirals through me with every move she makes. It’s electric, and all I can do is watch her move to the music. I can’t pull away, and I don’t want to.
Those gorgeous gray eyes suddenly open, and my heated gaze traps hers. Every bit of passionate yearning I’ve had for her boomerangs back at me through the fire in those eyes.
Need pulls me under, and it’s all I can feel. I blink and there she is, in front of me. All I can smell is the sweet scent of honeysuckle and vanilla. I breathe her in as I reach to cup her cheek. She’s so soft and warm. I skim my thumb down her jawline to her full lower lip, plush and begging for my mouth. She’s trembling with desire, her breath quickening. I want to drown myself in the taste and feel of her kiss.
“Say yes.” My voice is like gravel. I want this with every fiber of my being, but I’ll never be too far gone for consent. This is too important for anything less than certainty. She presses a button on her phone, and the music stops. Then, she drops it to the floor, eyes never leaving mine as she reaches for the back of my neck and pulls me forward. I back her up againstthe wall, until she’s caged in my arms. I press our bodies together, both of us desperate for the other’s touch.
“Yes,” she breathes, her voice low and breathy. Her answer zings through my body, and I lose my fucking mind. I don’t care that she’s my boss. I don’t care that I could lose my job. All I care about is my craving for her. I grasp the back of her neck and pull her in. Swiping my tongue against that velvety lower lip, before biting it gently.
I lick across the seam of her lips until she opens for me, allowing our tongues to tangle. She tastes like sin, and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. We devour each other, and our connection burns with all our pent-up hunger. All those little touches and heated glances culminate in the press of our bodies against each other. I’ve been dying to touch her again. Dying for more than just making out on the couch.
The needy sounds she makes pull at me, liquid fire racing straight to my cock, already hard from her sexy display earlier. Our kiss deepens, tongues sliding hotly against each other. Gripping my shirt, she leans into me, like she can’t get close enough, and it spurs my near-feral hunger. My hands roam over her searching out the sweet softness of her skin.
Her deep moan breaks the spell, and I reluctantly pull back from those plump lips, breathing her in, feathering kisses across her jaw to that sensitive spot right below her ear.
