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“I pay you well, Miss Thorn. If you’re not happy with the terms of our arrangement, you’re more than welcome to put in your resignation.”
She looked up at me with her hands on her ample hips, lips working to the side. The fucking woman looked like she’d been conjured straight out of my erotic dreams, and I resented her for it. Couldn’t she just be pretty? Did she have to be so damn sexy that I couldn’t put two coherent thoughts together? My dick was hard enough that it hurt now, and all I could do was hope she didn’t glance down and see how my body was betraying me.
“You know what? I’m going to go do my workout and if you don’t like it, you can fire me. But I’d love to see you explain the reason you’re terminating me to the Better Business Bureau.” She lowered her voice in a mocking attempt to sound like me. “She, uh, had the nerve to be in the gym at the same time as me.”
“The Better Business Bureau?” I asked. “Really?”
Lola actually flashed a middle finger at me and wandered over to a lat pulldown machine. She set her weight and started the movement as if I wasn’t even there.
I gritted my teeth, considering my options. I could fire her. I could make up any number of reasons. The problem was I didn’t want her to be gone. I didn’t want to think of this frustratingly sexy little minx out there in the world tormenting some other man. I definitely didn’t want to imagine her lips on someone else’s, even if I couldn’t afford to imagine them on mine.
When she finished her set, she pulled out her phone, picked out what I assumed was some music, and put in her earbuds.
I let out a sigh and went back to the treadmill and set an aggressive pace. The cardio equipment was unfortunately angled toward the rest of the gym, so I had nothing to look at except Lola and her tight little body as she made her way around. After a few minutes, she got on the hamstring machine right in front of me. It had her laying down on her stomach with her ass up toward me as she curled her heels up toward her ass again and again.
I kept moving my eyes elsewhere but finding they’d wandered back to her.
She had to know what she was doing. The woman was teasing me. Taunting me.
I decided to close my eyes, even if the images of her were already burned into my memory. But after a few seconds I must’ve drifted on the treadmill because my foot came down on solid, unmoving plastic. I stumbled once, swayed my arms as I shot my eyes open, and lost balance.
With a great thud, I fell on my chest and was launched off the back of the treadmill.
I slumped backwards and rested my head against the wall as Lola pulled out an earbud and looked back towards me. I waited for the laughter, but all she did was rush over to me with concern creasing her forehead.
“Oh my God, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. I tried to get up, but my ankle gave out under me. I flopped back to my ass and groaned.
“You don’t look fine. I mean, at least your ankle doesn’t,” she added with a faint smile.
I gave it an exploratory lift and felt a stab of pain. I’d rolled it and was probably in for a night of ice and swelling. Lola put her fingertips on the spot, gently prodding. I winced when she seemed to locate the source of the pain.
“You’re going to need to stay off this as much as you can for a few days.”
I was distinctly aware of how close we were. She was glistening with a sheen of sweat that only seemed to magnify how amazing she smelled. “I’ll be fine.”
“You won’t die, but you’re going to be in some pain.” She left me briefly to go pick up her small gym bag and set it beside me. After a little digging, she produced some bandage wraps. She even had some kind of disposable cold compress. Once she broke it up, the contents became cold as ice. She wrapped one layer of bandage around my ankle and then pressed the cold pack gently against it, wrapping it a few more times until it was firmly in place. Then she slid her bag in front of me and took my calf, straightening my leg and raising it slightly to rest on her bag. “Keep it like this for fifteen minutes.”
Something inside of me felt like it was threatening to crack as I watched her work. She was painfully pretty, but that wasn’t it. There was a gentleness and care to her movements that made me feel… fuck. I didn’t know what that feeling was. But she was making me feel like I didn’t know myself. All my certainty that I was better off alone and didn’t need relationships seemed to tremble deep within my soul. When the tremors passed, I could still convince myself it was all true–that I would be happiest alone and able to focus on my work–but I feared I’d be haunted by this moment where I felt all my confidence only inches from shattering.
