Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“He is dreamy, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, he is,” I say absently.
“So what happened? When you had lunch with Ben Black?”
Right. She’s talking about Ben. Not Jackson.
“I was supposed to meet Jack for lunch at our favorite sushi dive last week. He had to cancel at the last minute, and Ben Black walked in. He bought me some sushi. And then, when he went out to answer a phone call, I left.”
“Why?”
Why indeed?
Jack had already blown me off. Why didn’t I stay? Why didn’t I get to know Ben?
And the answer hits me in the face with a cement block.
Benjamin Black is so far out of my league, I knew it would be best to escape before he let me down gently.
Not that it even matters.
I’m in love with one man and one man only. The man who thought it was a mistake to sleep with me, the man who wouldn’t talk to me last night, the man who left my place without saying goodbye this morning.
Yeah, that man.
Why am I in love with him again?
Easy.
Because he’s the other half of me. He always has been.
But never in a million years did I imagine he was into kinky sex. Dark sex. Dominant and submissive sex.
All this time, I thought I knew him better than anyone.
But this most intimate part of him was something I never knew.
On the other hand, he doesn’t really know me any better than I know him. He’s convinced I’m sweet and innocent.
Sure, I don’t have a lot of experience, but I’m hardly sweet and innocent. Not the way he thinks I am. I loved being at the club. Part of it was because I was with Jack, but I loved the ambience. The atmosphere. The sheer liberation of it.
At the club, I felt…like me.
Like I could be me. I could express everything I felt inside, including how much I wanted Jackson.
And I did express that. At least I think I did.
The only problem? He doesn’t want me in return.
Once we reach the gym, Frankie comes inside with me.
“Are you staying?”
“Yeah. I just bought new workout clothes, so why not try them out?”
“Okay.”
“You think Michael would mind if I hijacked your training session?”
I should probably be pissed at Frankie. I should want to be alone with Michael, to get to know him better.
But I don’t.
There’s only one man for me. The man who doesn’t want me.
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask him. He’s giving me this first session for free.”
“Oh. I suppose I should just leave you alone, then. I don’t want to make a faux pas.”
“Okay.” Once in the locker room, I change into my new workout clothes—a tight tank top and compression leggings. All in black.
“Black has a slimming effect,” Frankie had told me at Macy’s.
Yes, I’ve heard it all before.
I lock my clothes and phone in a locker, fill my water bottle, and pull Frankie out to the gym. I’m not exactly sure where I’m supposed to meet Michael, but he finds me right away.
“Hey, you’re early,” he says.
“A little. I’ll just get on the treadmill while you finish up.”
“Not necessary. My two o’clock bailed, so I’m all yours.” He nods to Frankie. “Hey, nice to see you again.”
“You all enjoy your session,” Frankie says. “I’m going to do some cardio.”
Michael doesn’t ask her to join us, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. Frankie would have made a good buffer. Not that I need a buffer. This is a training session, not a date. Why am I trying to make it into more than what it is?
“So, Mandy,” Michael says, “I thought we’d start with some cardio so I can find out your current physical fitness level.”
“Sounds good.”
He leads me to an elliptical and fiddles with the settings on the computer. “I want you to exercise on this for five minutes. The timer will go off when your time is up. Then I’ll be able to see what your fitness level is, and I’ll be able to figure out what exercises will work for you.”
I hop onto the elliptical without telling him how much I hate ellipticals. They’re supposed to be easier on your joints and everything, but I always feel weird on them—like my body isn’t aligned properly or something.
I can suffer through the five minutes, though. Then I’ll tell him how much I hate the elliptical, and if he wants me to do cardio, it will have to be on a treadmill or bike.
Surprisingly, I’m not terribly winded after the five minutes. Clearly he went easy on me.
“Okay, great job,” Michael says. “Let me just stick these numbers into my handy-dandy computer.”
His handy-dandy computer is his phone.
“Okay. You’re in pretty good shape, Mandy. Your resting heart rate is about seventy-two. Not bad, but we can do better.”
“Isn’t cardio for weight loss?”