Page 70 of Switched


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Everything else falls away.

His fingers brush my side and I realize my shirt has ridden up on the right side.

I’m a heartbeat away from hauling it off, and demanding more, when I catch sight of myself in the mirror. I’m in a Chaos Burning shirt. I’m supposed to be Scarlett. She’s the one he’s thinking about when his hand rubs over the naked skin at my waist.

That single thought kills the moment dead for me.

I clear my throat and straighten up, peeling myself away from him.

He’s quick to pick up on my mood-change, his own change following swiftly.

He removes his hand and touches something else on the treadmill.

“That’s the speed,” he murmurs, as he puts it up a little.

I put it back down a bit and he gets the hint, backing fully away.

“Thanks,” I tell him, too afraid to look him in the eye.

It doesn’t matter how much I want him.

I’m not sleeping with someone while I’m pretending to be my sister.

That’s way too creepy.

I jog a little on the treadmill while Scout works out, and I try not to notice how good he looks when I catch sight of him in one of the mirrors, but that’s pretty much impossible.

Eventually, I decide looking is okay.

But I definitely can’t touch.

Chapter thirty-seven

Bishop

It’s a surprise to find out Scarlett’s still in the house when we get home from our last shift of the week, and it’s even more of a shock to find out she’s in the gym with Scout.

“I’m guessing the cleaning is done?” I joke as I enter.

I half expect Rueben to rush in after me, but I made a point to send him upstairs to relieve Gus from his kitten-sitting duties, so he must actually be going to check on his foster pet first.

Scarlett stops the treadmill she’s jogging on and lets out a vaguely weary breath.

“There’s nothing to clean in this house,” she admits, drawing me a pointed look. “I cleaned anyway, but still, if I cleaned any harder, I probably would have set something on fire.”

“So, you decided to join Scout for an extra workout instead?”

Scout stops his reps on the bench press and brings our woman a towel.

She smiles at him, her usually vibrant lips naked. “Thanks.”

I blink at her face, studying the area around her lips, wondering if Scout kissed her.

It looks more like she just isn’t wearing lipstick than it got kissed off, but I guess that might be hard to tell. She dries off her face, and Scout brings her a bottle of water.

“I’m not used to working out,” she admits, as she takes the bottle.

“I should take you through some stretches,” Scout murmurs.

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