"Like what?"
"Like working the night before a race when you need to be there to check in, set up your transition areas, and fuckingsleepbefore you push yourself over one hundred and forty miles." Miguel’s fury is simmering under his skin. His words come across as harsh, and cold. But he’s right. "You’re putting inthe work and seeing results. Keep doing the things that have contributed to your growth and you’ll be unstoppable." He grips and releases his handlebars. His face contorts a little before he continues and he snaps his head to the side like he’s cracking his neck. "Now, respect your elders and follow me."
I bark out a laugh. "Was that a joke, Coach? Is there a hidden giggle guy under the gruff, shut down exterior?"
"No."
I clip in and pedal after him. Smiling because Miguel was able to dish out the tough love and then lighten the mood, balancing his expectations of me with his care for me. "I think there is."
"Laney, just focus on the road."
"Yes, sir."
"Umm, your place is really nice." I say as I step past Miguel into his condo.
I knew Miguel was older, and more established in the sport. But the contrast between his living situation and mine makes me feel down-right juvenile.
We locked our bikes up in the parking garage under the mid-rise building. Then we walked through a sleek and modern marble floored lobby to the elevators which whisked us up to the seventh floor.
As soon as I crossed the threshold I walked to the floor to ceiling windows which overlook the lake, Oak Street Beach, and there’s a view down Michigan Avenue. To my left the kitchen takes up one wall with an island separating it from the rest of the space. To my right is a sofa and TV, there's a stationary bikein the corner next to a rack of free weights. I assume the short hallway behind me leads to the bathroom and bedroom.
"Thank you, what were you expecting exactly?"
"I dunno, something like Bruce Wayne’s lair."
Miguel blinks at me then chuckles. "I'm always surprised by what comes out of your mouth."
But not what could go in it?
Encouraged by the way Miguel looked at me in my bikini, I've decided it’s entirely possible to be dedicated to my training and flirtatious with my devastatingly handsome coach.
Miguel might be driven to take care of me, and he might be misguided in some of those attempts, but I want to take care of him too. I want to test this electric current buzzing between us. "Do you mind if I freshen up?" I ask.
"No," he chokes out. "The powder room is down the hall. I'll get dinner started."
"Okay, thanks." I say as I step slowly down the hallway. I see the half bath in front of me but decide to turn into his bedroom instead. I could really use a shower after being in the lake. The water is clean enough but I still feel musty.
Miguel's bathroom is exactly what I expected it to be. Sleek, modern finishes and grey towels. An empty counter and a neatly organized medicine cabinet, because obviously I peeked inside.
The sink is clean of any shave trimmings or toothpaste residue. After poking around for a minute and taking a whiff of his "Coal Ember" aftershave I lean into the shower and start the water.
There are two bottles on the shelf in the corner; a shampoo and a conditioner. I'm impressed he has conditioner. I look around and see a bar of soap balanced on a dish in the opposite corner.
As the water warms, I deftly unbraid my hair and finger comb a few tangles out. A sigh of relief washes over me as I step underthe spray, indulging in the massaging effect of the pressure along my muscles.
I reach for the shampoo and smell it before lathering any in my hands. The product is spicy, almost like black pepper with a hint of orange and I inhale deeply and let the scent fill me.
As my brain registers the smells of the product I realize this is how Miguel smells. This complex, and layered aroma mixes with a hint of cinnamon from the gum he's always chewing. I can feel the soapy bubbles cascading down my back and as I push the suds out of my hair under the water I close my eyes and let myself simply feel.
The press of the humid shower steam against my skin.
The pooling water around my feet.
The droplets, rolling and gathering momentum as they forge a path down my body.
I follow one with the tip of my finger from my chest down past my breasts to my core and shudder when I find a silky wetness gathered there.
I open my eyes quickly. The light of the bathroom jarring me out of my impulse to touch myself in Miguel’s shower.
