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Chapter Seven
Marissa
“I swear, you’re trying to kill me,” I pant as my jelly-filled legs continue to spin around and around on the stationery bike.
“This is the best kinda burn out there,” my sadistic sister says with a sweet smile as she continues to pedal at twice the speed as me.
“I hate you.” Sweat drips from my face; it slides down my back and into places I never thought possible.
“You love me.”
“No, I don’t. From this point forward, I don’t have a sister. We’re no longer related,” I pant and gasp, trying with everything I have to make my threat come out with authority instead of choppy and weak. It didn’t work.
“If you’re talking, you’re not working hard enough,” the bubbly bleach blonde croons into the headset she’s wearing, her laser eyes focused solely on me. “Come on, ladies! Work those muscles!”
“Okay, I don’t hate you, but her? Yeah, I flipping hate her,” I whisper over the upbeat pop music flowing from the speakers.
“Come on, Riss! This moment calls for a good F-bomb. Let it fly. I fucking hate her,” she teases, pumping her legs frantically and popping up off the seat to the beat of the song.
“Jesus, are you even human?” I ask, my ass burning and my legs completely numb.
“Great job, ladies! Let’s cool it down now,” Miss Bubbles cheers into the headset, causing everyone to let out a whoop of accomplishment at completing the workout. Me? I’m surprised I’m even still sitting on the bike seat. In fact, there’s a pretty good chance someone is going to have to carry me out of here.
“That was fun,” Harper says the moment class ends. She hops off the seat, toweling off the faintest drops of sweat on her brow, and offers me a warm smile. “You did it!”
“That was the worst kinda torture I’ve ever experienced. Why in the hell would someone subject themselves to that, willingly?” I pant and wheeze, slowly sliding off my seat. I feel like a brand new baby deer as I tentatively take a step toward my water bottle.
“Spinning is a hell of a workout, and Staci is the best.”
“She’s Satan with blonde hair and perky double D’s.”
“Stop being so dramatic,” my tall, sweat-less sister says as she wraps her arm around my shoulder and leads me toward the exit. I squirt water into my mouth, but even my jaw muscles don’t seem to want to work right now. We’re following in the wake of the other ladies in attendance for Ladies Spinning to Pop Divas class, held Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings at six. I’m pretty sure, from this point forward, I’ll have something much better to do at six those nights. You know, like getting a root canal, or maybe a bikini wax from a blind man. That sounds much more enjoyable than sweating like a pig to Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera.
“I hate to say this, but you’re on your own from now on, Harper. There’s no way in hell you’ll ever get me back in here,” I say, just as she stops in her tracks, causing me to stumble over my own two feet and fall awkwardly to my left.
Hands wrap around my arms and pull me tightly into a chest. A very broad chest with ripped muscles and a manly scent. Familiarity wraps around me, warm and comforting. “Careful, Angel.”
The featherlight touch of his breath on my cheek causes an involuntary shudder to sweep through my body. I glance up into Rhenn’s magnetic blue eyes and completely forget where I am. Hell, I completely forget my name. It just vanishes from normal brain function. Poof. Gone. His jaw is covered in a delicious stubble that makes my thighs clench and his full lips are totally kissable and perfect. My heart starts to pound in my chest, tapping out a savory little beat, and my body leans into his just a bit more.
“Earth to Marissa,” Harper says in my ear, snapping her fingers in front of my face. My cheeks flame with embarrassment, and I’m not sure what’s worse: being caught openly gawking at Rhenn by the man himself, or by Harper.
“Sorry,” I mumble, trying to take a step back, but finding myself downright unable to complete the task since Rhenn is still holding me against him.
Against. His. Body.
Flush together, chest-to-chest.
I can practically feel his heart pounding a strong, steady beat, or maybe that’s mine. No, wait. Mine is pounding to an erratic, sporadic beat, so it must be his. I start to wonder if he even realizes my boobs are smashed against his chest when his eyes drop down, drinking in the slight spill of cleavage over the neckline of my workout tank top. His eyes dilate and darken instantly as he seems to memorize the swell of my boobs, every freckle on my flushed skin.
Yep, he definitely realizes it.
He probably also recognizes that I’m completely gross and covered in nasty post-workout sweat. Boob sweat isn’t sexy, at least not on a woman like me. My cheeks are surely red from exertion and my hair, a rat’s nest of chaos. No pretty messy bun, post-workout glow here, thank you very much.
“Fancy meeting you here, Cowboy,” Harper says, drawing both of our gazes away from each other and toward her. Rhenn finally releases his hold on my arms, and I’m not sure if it’s a welcome movement or a disappointing one; but he doesn’t move entirely out of my personal space. In fact, I know I could bump my hip just a bit and connect with his body.
“Well, I’ve been off my routine this week, so when I was out on a walk earlier and noticed this gym, I thought I’d stop in and get in a quick workout,” he says, talking to Harper, but returning his gaze to me.
I try to keep my focus on his face. It’s hard, I’ll admit, but I think I manage. I don’t once glance down, following the corded muscles and trail of dark blonde hair that disappears beneath his tank top. Not once do I watch how his tanned skin shines with a thin layer of sweat. Never do my eyes drop below his waist to see the way his basketball-style shorts hang dangerously low on his hips.
