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Women utterly exhausted me.
I chuckled. It sounded false to my ears, because it was, but she didn’t notice. “You are a temptation, but I do not sleep with my models. Especially not on the job.” I trailed my finger along her sharp jaw to soften the blow.
Her eyes snapped in irritation.
Hm, not used to rejection.
And here I was, fresh out of patience.
I crossed to the bed to retrieve her purse, then opened my arm for her to precede me to the door.
She swung her tiny hips while I practically clipped her heels behind her. At the door she stopped abruptly, purposefully, and I slammed into her back.
Laughing it off, making a joke about her magnetic personality, I opened the door and ushered her through, relieved when she sauntered off.
Awareness prickled along the back of my neck. I turned toward the source in time to see Hope’s face drop. In time to see her stumble back as if from a blow.
So.
It was like that.
And it wasn’t just me.
Perhaps it was better she caught me with a model. Safer for both of us.
So why was I grabbing my key card and following her out to the elevator?
Awkward
Ares
I’d almost given up finding her. I wasn’t a stalker. My mind flipped through the mental Rolodex of photographs of her I hoarded on my laptop. Well, not a full-fledged stalker in any case.
I decided to check the gym and the gazebo before throwing in the towel. What was I planning to do? Explain? I’d already determined that her assumption was the best thing that could happen.
She was not what I wanted, and I was for damn sure not what she needed.
A few dedicated souls worked out at different stations in the gym while a few others gathered around a window around the corner. The faint sounds of music tickled my ears and drew me closer to the window.
“She’s beautiful,” a woman murmured as I closed in on them.
My tongue stuck fast to the roof of my mouth at the sight that awaited me. Louder now, the music rang clear, seeming to flow through Hope’s body and drip from her fingertips as she leapt and spun.
Her leotard clung to every line and curve of her body.
My eyes wandered over her form, slender but strong, the muscles in her thighs rippling, her tummy softly rounded, full breasts bound tightly beneath her sports bra and bodysuit. Her hips flared, wider than I expected, and her bottom bounced with her movements. Muscular calves, strong ankles, and long legs I suddenly, desperately, wanted wrapped around my waist.
But it wasn’t until I reached her face that I really saw her.
Completely, irrevocably lost to the music. I knew without a doubt she had no inkling of her audience because her expressive face held nothing back.
Her emotions called to me as if by their very proximity I, too, could feel.
“Beautiful,” another woman reverently agreed.
“She’s so expressive. Her body, her face. She almost seems to be in pain.”
Hope’s perfect mouth twisted, and her eyes screwed shut. Her hands reached for the sky, rolling and pushing herself backwards, her back bending nearly in half before righting herself into a graceful spin. Her toes gripped the floor, drawing power up into her legs as she launched herself into the air. Sweat glistened in the baby soft hairs at her temples as she plucked the very stars from the sky and threw them to her feet.
