Page 91 of Whispered Promises

Rosy squints up at me as the wind whips strands of hair across her face. Brushing them back, I attempt to tuck them behind her ear, but as the wind tugs them free again, we both laugh.

“Come on. Let’s get you home and warm,” I tell her, dropping one more kiss before I spin us around and start walking again. She doesn’t say anything, but hooks her hand in my elbow, resting her head on my arm as we walk back together.

THIRTY-SIX

ROSY

I’ve no idea what’s different today, but from the moment I walked into the gym, my skin felt static. Each look Nate gives me has my pulse racing and a flush working across my body. Everywhere he looks, that flush flourishes and builds.

I’ve never had this much of a connection with anyone other than the guys before, and if this is what sexual tension is supposed to be like…well, shit, I’ve been missing out. I’m almost panting, and he’s not done anything other than look and speak to me.

I can’t even attribute my elevated heart rate to the exercise, because even now, he’s walking on the treadmill beside me, face forward and not even looking at me. But he knows I’m looking at him. Every side glance I give him has a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

It’s completely, utterly ridiculous that it can have this much of an effect on me.

His head turns towards me, catching me in the act. “Careful not to trip. You’re not looking where you’re going.”

It takes a minute to realise what he’s said, because the growl in his tone was all my brain could initially lock onto. The pure vibration of it.

Would he be opposed if I asked if he could…you know, do it when he’s between my legs? He’d make a good vibrator.

“Handles,” I squeak, feeling way too exposed when he looks at me so closely whilst I’m thinking all the dirty things. “I have handles. I’m holding them, and I’m watching where I’m going.” I nod down at my hands that are white-knuckled around the machine’s support bars.

He offers that knowing smirk again.

So I turn my head back, choosing to ignore him.

Mostly.

We spend the remainder of the walk in silence. It’s not relaxed, though, because I’m so obviously aware of him. Plus, my mind won’t stop thinking all the dirty thoughts about him, and the more I think of them, the more I’m panicking that he can tell what I’m thinking.

Just as we bring the treadmills to a stop, he finishes typing something on his phone and slips it into his pocket.

“Can I take you somewhere?” He breaks the quiet between us as he comes to stand in front of me.

My brows crease at his question. We’re in our sweaty gym wear…where’s appropriate for us to go like this?

“Okay,” I agree, still puzzled but unable to turn down any extra time with him.

He flashes a smile so brief it’s gone before I can take my fill of it, but the lingering vision has me rooted to the spot in both shock and awe. I only move when he tugs on my hand.

What do I need to offer in return so I can have more of those rare smiles? It might not have been wide and full, not an obvious one, but for Nate to have shared it with me, it means everything.

His smirks I’ve got used to, but now I’m greedy and want his smiles too.

The cool breeze has me jolting back to my surroundings as Nate guides me in the opposite direction of home. The sweat cooling against my skin has a shiver skating through me. It’s still too cold to be without layers, but I’d completely forgotten to grab a fleece before I’d left home earlier. Noticing my chill, he tugs me closer, looping his arm over my shoulders and holding me close without letting go of my hand.

How he makes it work, I don’t know, but I’m left with his body heat pressed to my side, and my fingers remaining entwined with his.

“Better?” he asks, dropping a kiss on my hair.

“Much, thank you,” I reply, unable to stop the smile from framing my cheeks. He can’t see it, so I can relax and let the giddiness shine through without feeling worried he might think I’m too much.

After turning down another road, he steers us to a shop, pushing through the door before I can see the name of it. Warmth greets us; the space cosy and narrow, decorated with blues and greys. The sides are lined with a few armchairs, and a small desk sits directly to the right. There’s still no indication of what the establishment is, and I’m about to ask when a man walks in from a doorway at the back.

“Hey, man, how you doing?” he calls out to Nate, offering his hand in greeting.

Nate removes his arm from my shoulder and steps forward and embraces him, their hands clasping as they pull each other in for a quick hug.