“Completely.”
Our banter is interrupted by the woman walking on the treadmill on the other side of Phoenix when she taps his arm. She’s got on a full face of makeup and perfectly styled dark hair that hangs over her shoulders. She also has boobs that are threatening to bounce right out of her designer sports bra.
“Excuse me, can you tell me what time it is?” she coos, fluttering ridiculously fake eyelashes at him.
My spirits take a nosedive at her beauty and her obvious flirting. I face forward, though I can still see their reflections out of the corner of my eye.
To my surprise, instead of flirting back, Phoenix cranes his neck and looks at her phone, which isright in front of herin the device holder. “Your phone says it’s 6:54.” Then he turns back to me, dismissing her completely. “Tell me more about Morticia.”
Take that, Miss Boobs-A-Lot.
Every cell in my body warms, and it’s not from the light jog I’ve got going on. “Well, like I said, she’s awful, always doing things I have to apologize for.”
Phoenix scrapes his teeth against his bottom lip, which is more swollen than the top one, and that reminds me I also freaking bit him last night in the throes of my orgasm. Just one more thing to add to my list of mortifying shit.
“It’s a good thing Morticia didn’t do a single thing last night that you have to apologize for.” He lifts one eyebrow meaningfully. “Not a single thing.”
“Really? But I—I mean,Morticia—called you…” I lower my voice and whisper, “tripod.” I’m sure my face is all shades of red at the memory, but Phoenix just laughs and tugs at his sleeveless gray T-shirt, pulling it away from his sweat-slicked skin.
Mmmm, sweaty man. Is there anything more delicious?
“Trust me, sweetheart. There’s not a man alive who would be offended by that description.” He cocks his head to the side and lets his eyes drop down my body. “In fact, I think I’d like to spend a lot more time with…Morticia.” He doesn’t do air quotes around my fake sister’s name, but his tone implies it.
A sense of giddiness washes over me, but I hide it by cranking up the speed on my treadmill, and Phoenix does the same. He matches me stride for stride as we pump out three miles.
He finally slows to a walk while I push through my final mile and then crank down my speed to cool off.
Phoenix turns off his machine and leans back against the arm ofthe treadmill, facing me as he polishes off a bottle of water. I recognize the brand from the hotel room, one of those fancy ones they charge you over twenty dollars for if you take it from the mini-bar, whereas I filled my cup from the kitchen tap.
He lifts his shirt to wipe sweat from his face, giving me an excellent view of his stomach.Holy abs of steel.The man is stacked, and the dusting of hair that tapers down into his gray shorts makes me want to bury my nose there. A spark ignites between my legs, and I look away swiftly because apparently the mere sight of an eight-pack turns my vagina into a whore.
Phoenix crosses his arms over his chest, and I mentally pat myself on the back for not gawking at his muscular biceps and forearms. I simply glance as I walk. Occasionally. Six or seven times. The suit, as Kam called him, apparently does not skip arm day at the gym.
Sweat dampens my sports bra between my breasts and runs down the crack of my butt. The swamp ass struggle is real.
“Question,” Phoenix says. “Are you and Morticia identical twins?”
“Oh yeah. Completely identical. Not even our family can tell us apart.”
He leans forward, folding his forearms on the support arm of the treadmill as his voice deepens. “So does that mean your pussy is as hot and wet as Morticia’s was when she rode my cock last night?”
I stumble and barely catch myself on the support bars as my legs paddle out behind me. I swear, this man is constantly turning me into a character straight out of a Bugs Bunny cartoon.
“Phoenix Hale,” I hiss, pressing the button to stop my treadmill.
He makes a tutting noise with his tongue. “It’s really more effective if you scold me using my full name. My middle name is Anthony, by the way.” His smirk is simultaneously infuriating and sexy.
“Phoenix Anthony Hale,” I try again, and he gives me a nod of approval, the smartass. “You can’t just say stuff like that.” My eyes dart around to see if anyone is listening, but all the treadmills and ellipticals are currently empty. Not sure where Miss Boobs-A-Lot went. Probably trolling for another unsuspecting victim after Phoenix’s blatant rejection.
“Why not?” he asks, still bent slightly at the waist and leaning toward me.
“Because… you just can’t,” I reply, unable to come up with a reasonable excuse.
“My answer is yes, by the way.” At my look of confusion, he clarifies in a whisper. “To the cherry issue we discussed last night.” Then he puts his index finger in his mouth, placing it against his inner cheek before flicking it out to make a popping sound.
I burst into laughter. “You are completely unhinged.”
“I like to refer to myself as incorrigible. It sounds much cuter.” His expression grows serious. “But like I said, if you thought about what we discussed and are still interested, I’m in.”
