Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Feeling his energy across the room, I also take my time picking up my mat, gathering my water bottle, and shutting off the fans we use while so many people are in the room.
I was so happy to see so many people participating today, and I know it has more to do with the lack of things to do around here since Cerberus still isn’t taking jobs at the moment than them wanting to actually get in a great workout.
I chance a glance up in the mirrors at the front of the room, but instead of taking longer to pick up his mat, I find him sitting on one of the weight benches like he’s getting ready to lift. I shove down that part of me that wants to warn him about overdoing it, but he’s a grown man. He has heard everything Anthony has ever told him, and if he doesn’t want to listen to his physical therapist, that’s on him. Despite what I might have felt before, I’ve never actually had any right to tell him what to do. I’m not going to be crossing that line today either.
There’s no way to walk out of this room and avoid him completely, so I take a deep breath and step in that direction.
I keep my eyes locked on the bench he’s straddling rather than making eye contact, but I feel like he’s going to think I’m staring at his dick, so I have to lift my eyes up a little higher. Staring at someone’s throat seems acceptable. I try for a soft smile, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s coming across like a sneer.
“You did great today,” I tell him, because being rude and not talking to him at all would come across petty and angry, and the last thing I want the man to think is that I care at all.
“I didn’t but thanks anyway,” he mutters.
I’ve seen this from him before. He fully expects his body to do exactly what he wants, and things aren’t that easy for him any longer.
“Cannon has never been able to do the compass pose,” I remind him. “So you have a leg up on him.”
I wince the second the words come out of my mouth, my cheeks heating with embarrassment, my eyes threatening to shed tears.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” I say before covering my mouth with my hand. “That was insensitive, and I wasn’t thinking.”
Instead of getting angry, the man blinks up at me, and I don’t know how to read his reaction.
“I’m not offended. I know you didn’t mean it anyway.”
His tongue touches the corner of his mouth, and I hate the way my body reacts to it. This is why I’ve been avoiding him like crazy since he arrived. Telling myself something, and being able to follow through with it, have been at odds with each other where he’s concerned.
“The only time you’ve ever disrespected me is when you try to rip out my hair when you come on my dick.”
My mouth drops open, like literally unhinges at his words.
His smile is something I’ve grown to love and hate with equal measure. “And I always enjoy that.”
A tingle runs over my body in anticipation, despite knowing what I have to do. When his eyes drop to my lips, I act as quickly as I can manage which is probably still a few seconds too slow. By the time I look back up to his eyes, I’m already once again desperate for this man. I sort of hate myself for my inability to move past whatever I imagined we were. Delusions are meant for people who are less self-aware than I am.
Trying to hold on to something that doesn’t exist is demoralizing and detrimental. Imagining more than what actually exists is toxic, and I’m fairly certain I’m creating shit in my head when he frowns at me.
He was clear about what he needed to happen once we returned to the clubhouse. I was quick to agree, and there’s no going back on that now. He may be wanting that physical aspect of what we had again, but it will only lead to regret on both our parts.
“Do you need me to stick around?” I ask, knowing I’d never ask him if he needs actual help because he’d discard that offer quicker than anything else.
When he answers that he doesn’t, I don’t waste a second escaping.
Staying anywhere near him wouldn’t be good for either of us, and I don’t want to make things even more awkward than they already are. Going back to normal seems impossible, but so does moving on from him.
I broke those unspoken rules, not him. I’m the one who let the idea of us sink in further past the bodily need to feel connected to someone. I fucking caught feelings for the man, and those being unrequited hurts with a sting I don’t know if I’ll ever be free from.