I know it was risky and dangerous but I don’t actually regret wearing a bad wet suit. I have woken up in a full body flush every day since remembering the way he held me to him. The feel of his hands on my bare back, my hips, my thighs.
When we took our bike ride I didn’t expect any physical contact but my pussy wept when his hand landed on the back of my neck and then trailed down my spine. I wanted to curl into him and beg for more of his touch.
The memory of his skin against mine, the heat he produced, sends shivers down my spine even now, a few days later, as I stand outside my apartment waiting for him.
No way am I letting Miguel upstairs.
His tall, firm, cinnamon and pepper scented body cannot be in my space again.
I barely survived the first time.
I can only thank my hypothermic haze for keeping me just loopy enough not to fall prey to his proximity.
And his cooking.
The food he made me was delicious and I had to basically fight Dee off with a stick so she wouldn’t eat it too.
She made lots of comments about how she should get a girlfriend to cook for her and I had to remind her Miguel was my coach not my boyfriend.
She’d just hum like she didn’t believe me.
Dee having the opportunity to say something inappropriate is another reason to not let Miguel upstairs today.
Plus, I think I need to keep Miguel in a box. Or, maybe I should call it a container. When we’re training, when he’s barking paces and countdowns at me, I am wholly focused on the workout. And, dedicating myself to the effort will be what gets me my pro card, which is my only goal.
I have to do it for my dad.
It should be my only focus.
I shouldn’t let myself get distracted by a boy.
"Why are you outside?" A brusk voice calls out from the corner. I watch as Miguel approaches guiding his bike by the seat down the sidewalk.
"Well, hello to you too." I sass back and it’s starting to feel like my usual greeting. My head has to tilt back to keep eye contact with him as he comes to stand in front of me and my body remembers the feel of his and each cell of my skin tries to reach for him.
"Laney," his voice softens but only a touch, "it's early in the morning and there's no one else out here to help if something goes wrong."
"What could go wrong? You're the only one out here, should I be afraid of you?" Afraid of how attracted I am to him maybe. He clearly bristles at the notion he could be a threat.
"No." He answers my question firmly. Any follow up gets caught in my throat as I watch Miguel's eyes rake over my body. With an approving nod, he says, "Let's go."
"Yes sir." I say under my breath as Miguel swings a leg over his bike and gets situated in the saddle.
His bristly attitude this morning is more like Bike Rack Miguel from the first day I met him or Laney Is Just A Little Late For Our Training Miguel from a few days ago. Not Beach Miguel, Bath Tub Miguel, or Coffee Shop Miguel who touched me freely and authoritatively.
I wantthatMiguel back.
Maybe it takes endorphins for him to turn all mushy and attentive.
"So what's the plan, Coach?" I ask as we pedal leisurely towards the bike path. Our apartment might be old but it is close to the lakefront trail and all the training areas I use for free.
"We're going up and back for a total of 30 miles. And then we'll lock up our bikes and brick a 10 mile run. Again, a five mile out and back so we end up where we started." He says flatly.
"And are you always this cheerful in the morning?" I tease.
A fraction of a smile cracks but he catches it. "I don't like you standing out on the street alone."
"You know I've been taking care of myself for a while right? And I've done fine."
