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Then she pulls her thin, athletic shirt over her head, revealing a sports bra that shows off her ample tits and stomach. I’m reduced to a Neanderthal brain and all I want to do is strip her naked and fuck her against the wall.
I grab the towel and run it down my face as a stall tactic, hoping that covering my eyes will calm me. I’m not going to earn Shayna’s forgiveness by ogling her every time she’s wearing hardly any clothes.
A part of me wonders why I even care so much. I have the life I’ve always wanted. And yeah, I screwed her over back in the day, but everyone makes mistakes when they’re young and dumb. It’s part of growing up and learning and maturing. If she can’t forgive me, I should be able to say “fuck it” and move on and forgive myself.
But I can’t. For whatever reason, IneedShayna to forgive me. Okay, yeah, there’s something deeper there. She’s the last woman I thought could be something. Someone who wanted me for me and not my status. But I can’t have her even if she forgives me. We work together now, and Shayna would never put herself in that position.
“Lee?”
Shayna snaps me back to the here and now.
“Sorry, yeah?” I push my hand through my sweaty hair and don’t miss the way her gaze tracks to my bicep.
“I asked if you’re here every night.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Why? Looking to avoid me?”
She rolls her eyes. “No. I asked because if you are, you’re likely overworking your muscles. You’ll be doing enough in training camp these next couple of weeks. You should use the time in between to let your body rest.”
Bringing my hand to my heart, I tilt my head. “Aw, listening to you just now, I’d almost think you cared.” My sarcasm stems from my previous thought—she can’t be mine even if she forgives me. I tend to be a sour asshole when I don’t get what I want.
All expression drops from her face. “It’s my job to ensure you’re in peak physical condition so that you can do your job. Nothing more.” The bite in her tone turns me on.
“And what do you think?” I lift my shirt over my head in one fluid motion. “Am I in peak physical form?” Yeah, I’m a classAasshole. I need to let this go.
Her gaze drags down my chest and her nipples harden beneath the thin material of her sports bra.
“You’re an ass.” She hops up onto the treadmill, her finger pressing hard to start it, and starts running, effectively stopping our conversation.
Which is fine. Because at least now I know I can still get to her. It’s a start.
But a start to what, jerkoff? You honestly think Shayna’s willpower will wane and she’ll sleep with you in the gym because you have a set of abs? Get real.
Although I’d been at the gym for an hour before Shayna showed up, I extend my workout and go back through all the machines so that I can get little glimpses of her.
I don’t like the idea of her being here all by herself at night. And I definitely don’t like the idea of her being here alone with another player. Even though that’s unlikely at this point.
She’s right about overdoing the workouts though. Training camp kicks our asses, and most guys are in bed or playing video games in their off time. And I have no business acting like some jealous lover, but this is the most alone time I’ve gotten with her since I found out she was in San Francisco.
I don’t talk to her or bother her. She has her earbuds in, but I keep an eye on her so when she walks toward her bag and picks up the shirt she came in wearing, I figure she must be wrapping up her workout.
I stop midlift and put the barbell back, finishing as well. I toss my towel in the dirty hamper next to the locker room and quickly switch my shoes. She’s a helluva lot faster than me though and already has her bag hanging from her shoulder.
I call out to her before she reaches the door. “Shayna, wait up.”
She turns around with a scowl as though I just told her that her ass doesn’t look good in her leggings. Side note—it looks bitable.
“I’ll walk you to your car.” I break the distance between us with my gym bag slung over my shoulder.
“I’m a big girl. I don’t need you to walk me to my car.”
“Listen, I get that you’re still pissed at me, but I wouldn’t letanywoman walk to her car alone in the dark.”
She studies me for a beat and turns around without saying a word. I follow her. The two of us say good night to Paul, the security guard, and we step out into the dark parking lot.
Shayna presses her key fob and the lights of a dark-blue sedan go off, the interior lights shine brightly, showing no one is in there. “This is me. Thanks. Bye.”
I sigh. A person can only apologize so many times. If the person on the receiving end isn’t ready to hear it, there’s not much to be done—a hard truth I’m coming to realize. “I’ll wait until you’re in your car.”
