Page 9

Paige

M y arms burn as I finish my push-ups, and when I stand, my gaze flits to the door, just like it has for the last few days, waiting. Hoping that my Window-Seat Guy will suddenly appear so I’m not doing this alone. Again.

But of course, he doesn’t.

I’d wager he’s avoiding it—me—on purpose.

If I wasn’t so self-assured, I’d probably get a complex. It’s obviously my fault.

I make him uncomfortable. I know that.

It’s written on his face every time we run into each other. But I’m not convinced that’s a bad thing. I look at it like pushing him out of his comfort zone, and we all need a little of that sometimes.

At least, I do.

Every time I think about what I said at the gym last week, I can’t help but laugh. I mentioned his cock. We’re barely even friends, and yet, I felt comfortable enough to go there. Because his grumpy ass needed to hear it. He’s wound so tight all the time that someone needs to help ease the tension.

And I love pushing his buttons. I can’t even explain the joy it brings to my life, watching his nostrils flare or his eyes widen. I love to see his lips twitch like he wants to smile but refuses to admit something or someone makes him happy.

I’m not stupid; I’m aware that he’s dragging around some heavy baggage. That much is clear. But a little teasing never hurt anyone.

And I was clearly joking. I hadn’t really looked at his pants to see if there was a bulge. But after the words left my mouth, I wanted to.

I still want to.

That man… God, every time I see him, I want to mount him like a horse. There’s something about his manner that has me desperate to attract him. And it’s not only because it’s been too long since a man last touched me and he’s gorgeous. It’s more than that.

Only I can’t explain it.

Ignoring my disappointment at the empty room, I move on to my next set, and by the time I’m working my triceps, I’m exhausted.

I don’t usually push myself this much, but I had the crazy idea to sign up for a charity run early next year. And now I’m suffering the consequences.

But it was time to make a change. To try something new. To drink that drink I’ve never tasted, compete in that event I’ve never entered, fuck that guy I’ve never fucked…

I chuckle to myself. That one isn’t new, but Window-Seat Guy is definitely not the polished businessman I usually go for. And for some reason I have my sights set on him.

The door buzzes while I’m still grinning and my smile drops so fast that a nervous energy takes over me.

I continue my workout, keeping my eyes locked on the wall in front of me as I pretend I haven’t noticed that someone has joined me.

My heart races as my breathing intensifies, and it has nothing to do with physical exertion.

It might not even be him, but anticipation is rife in the air. My chest is tight. My insides are twisted, and I’m working hard not to clench my legs because my mind is going exactly where it shouldn’t.

The door clicks shut but no one speaks or moves. The only sounds filling the air are my ragged breaths.

Is he here? Watching me. Or am I deluded because of how badly I want him?

What I wouldn’t give for him to wrap his arms around my waist and make me feel what I do to him. If I do anything at all.

What am I saying? Of course I do. I’ve seen it in his expression. He may not understand it, but he wants me just as much as I want him.

I know it.

The silence continues and I almost turn around, but don’t.

God, this is some messed-up kind of foreplay. But I think I might like it.

He’s done nothing, and yet I am well and truly ready for him to take what he wants because I want it too.

My arms are dead when I finish my set, and I can’t keep up the ruse any longer. After standing tall, I turn slowly to find Window-Seat Guy a few feet behind me, his eyes ablaze with fire, his gaze locked on my heaving chest.

I want to tell him it’s all for him, but I can’t bring myself to speak.

For all I know, everything I’m feeling could be one-sided. He might be married—but no ring—engaged, or in a serious relationship. He might not be experiencing the same pull I do for him—it wouldn’t be the first time I’d deluded myself.

Testing the waters, I bite my bottom lip, tugging the flesh into my mouth, and watch as his throat bobs and he stifles a groan.

My lips switch into a triumphant smile, but I turn away before he can see it, only looking back when I’ve schooled my features. I’d usually launch into a cooldown after a workout, but I’m no longer convinced it’s the workout that has my heart racing but rather the man standing in front of me, staring at me like I’m his next meal.

And God, do I want to be.

He takes a step forward, and my heart stops beating until his expression changes and I catch the moment his internal war begins, resistance in his gaze, fighting for control.

And I can’t have that.

Not now.

Shaking his head, he drops his bag to the floor and walks toward the treadmill. His movements slow. Hesitant. Refusing to look at me.

Telling me everything I need to know.

He feels it too. But he needs a little push to do something about it.

Knowing he has a clear view of the changing rooms, I engage my “try something new” attitude and pray that it works.

My chest heaves and I step through the threshold and wedge my foot against the door, holding it open. Turning around, I wait until Window-Seat Guy glances up before slowly removing my sports bra, letting the top fall to the floor as I curl my fingers into the waistband of my shorts.

If he doesn’t want me, now is the time for him to bow out. All he has to do is turn away or tell me to stop, and I’ll give up on this crazy idea.

Because it is crazy.

He hasn’t said a word since he walked in. We’ve only had a handful of interactions. He’s never indicated that he wants anything from me. And yet, I’m practically throwing myself at him.

In a public gym.

So desperate, I can’t hold back anymore. Not that rational decisions and holding back have ever been my strong suits.

Taking a breath for courage, I slide my shorts down my legs until I’m standing in nothing but my panties. My gaze hardens, a challenge set in my expression because it’s now or never, Window-Seat Guy, and it’s your move.

He closes his eyes and I panic, but instead of turning away like I expect, he releases a guttural groan before stalking toward me, ripping his tank over his head as I gasp.

I wanted this. It was my plan. But now that his wanton gaze is locked on mine, I’m nervous. Because I have no idea what type of guy he is.

What if he wants a girlfriend. I’m not that girl and—

He reaches the changing room and pushes me inside, slamming the door behind him. In two quick strides, he has me locked against the counter, his arms braced on either side of me, his expression feral.

“Is this what you want, or are you a tease?” His raspy words have my core pulsing as I confidently meet his state.

“I’m almost naked. I want this.”

“Well, we better fix that.”

“Fix wha—” He drops to his knees, gliding my panties down my legs so fast, I almost squeal. I had imagined and hoped he’d be the take-charge kind, but I wasn’t convinced of it. And God, am I happy he is.

His eyes lock on mine as he tosses my thong onto the floor beside my clothes, his gaze roaming my body, setting me alight without ever once touching me. My nipples stand to attention, my core throbs between my legs, and I can’t remember a time I have ever been this turned on, this desperate for a man’s touch.

And I’m not above begging. “Please.”

“ Jesus . Tell me what you want. Tell me what you were thinking about when you stripped for me.”

“I want you. Anything. Everything.” God, what am I saying? This guy could be a serial killer.

“ Fuck ,” he groans, and the surprise in his voice suggests that he’s not, though right now, I’m not sure I’d care.

He sets his gaze on my pussy before rising to his feet and spinning me around in one movement, bending me over the counter with my ass in the air.

Our eyes lock in the mirror, and I melt into him.

“I don’t make a habit of bringing protection to the gym.” He pauses, his deep voice and intense stare making my legs jelly. “But if I did, I’d be sinking into this pretty pussy faster than you can say ‘take me.’” He cups my center and rocks into me, letting me feel how much he wants me.

And he’s rock-hard.

Leaning forward, he moves my hair away from my ear and whispers, watching me as he speaks, “I hope you don’t mind settling for my mouth. I’m a little rusty, but something tells me you won’t hesitate to correct me if I get it wrong.”

Oh God.

Arousal pools at my center, and my head spins as he kicks my feet apart, spreading my legs before dropping to his knees again, not wasting any time as he runs his tongue between my folds.

And I buckle.

My legs give way as I fall against the counter, holding on for dear life until two strong hands grip my thighs, holding me upright, while he continues his assault.

The last few days have been hell for me, with friends and my family telling me I’d made a mistake by leaving. That I was selfish. My uncle even called me a brat, telling me I’d regret it. But if this is what regret feels like, then I’m going to be the biggest brat they’ve ever seen because…

“Oh. My. God.” I jump. “Yes. Oh. Don’t fucking move from that— Jesus .”

Window-Seat Guy’s mouth disappears, and I groan as my angry gaze darts to the mirror. “What the hell?”

“Get out of your head, Paige. Then I might listen.”

“What? How did—” He groans and I quickly shake my head. “Not important.” I can process how he knew that some other time. “As you were. I’m here. I’m ready.”

“Good girl.”

“Thank you.”

Gliding me back until my ass is higher in the air, he bites my clit before swirling his tongue through my heat. I buck against his face, my head falling to the counter as I let the pleasure take over me.

This guy is good .

I lose control as he works me into a writhing mess, his tongue lapping at my center, his thumb rubbing circles around my clit, his fingers brushing my hole but never going in. He has me panting and moaning and thanking the heavens that this beautiful man knows how to set me on fire, because…

“God, this. Jesus. Don’t stop.”

His tongue disappears before the tip of his finger sinks into my heat and I buck again, the fear of falling gone thanks to his strong hold on my leg. The pressure builds low in my belly until I’m teetering on the edge, struggling to hold on to the rush…desperate for a release but also never wanting this to end.

I cry out again, rocking my hips, waiting for him to push in that little bit farther. “Yes. God. Please.” He curls his finger, but before I have a chance to react, he stops. Again. And I almost cry.

“Wha—”

Ignoring my words, he flips me around until we’re face-to-face and lifts me onto the counter, his gaze locked on mine. I watch with rapt attention as he lifts my legs and positions my feet on the fake marble, pushing my knees to my chest as he groans.

“What are you doing?” I pant, feeling more exposed than ever before. Sex has never been a big deal for me; I’m generally up for anything. But I have never had a man look at me like he’s looking at me now. It’s primal, possessive, and my God do I want him to do whatever the hell he’s thinking.

And I don’t even know his name.

“Hold your knees,” he says, snapping me out of my head as he raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Hold your knees and keep your legs spread. I want you to watch as your pussy weeps for me.”

“Oh. God.”

Barely a second passes before he’s buried between my legs again, his tongue lavishing my center, his fingers teasing my entrance but never giving me exactly what I need.

“I think it’s time I told you my name.” He glances up at me, suppressing a smirk as his fingers continue their ministrations.

“Why?” I rush out, my chest heaving while my core pulses. “We’ve made it this far without it.” I’m desperate to know what to call him, but there’s no way I’m going to admit that.

“You’re right. But you need to know what to scream while I’m making you come.”

He doesn’t wait for me to respond before sucking my clit into his mouth as he finally plunges a finger inside me. Then two and—

“Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.”

He pulls back, licking his lips, and my eyes follow the journey of his tongue as it travels across the flesh, my breathing out of control.

“Or you can keep calling me God.” He shrugs and I’d laugh if I wasn’t completely at his mercy and desperate not to break the spell.

He pumps harder, his fingers working in sync as he stares up at me, waiting, his piercing blue eyes making me shudder.

“Jesus. Okay. What’s your name?”

“I thought it didn’t matter and I kind of like ‘God.’”

“Tell me. Now.” My voice comes out rushed, frantic, full of want but I couldn’t care less. He’s tearing me apart and I want to scream out his name. No, I need it. “Jesus, I’m close. Please .”

He smirks again, and if I thought grumpy looked good on him, it’s nothing compared to the cocky expression he’s hitting me with now. “Only because you asked so nicely.” He slows his moves, a spark in his eyes that makes me fucking melt. “Call me Easton.”

Easton . He licks me again and I buck against him, fucking his face as I ride his fingers, chasing my release.

“Yes. Easton. Oh fuck, yes.”

He bites my clit at the same time he curls his fingers inside me, and I lose my goddamn mind, screaming his name over and over as my body spasms against him.

“ Easton . Easton. Easton . ”

He slows his pace while my body convulses, and when I’m finally able to control my breathing, he pulls back, staring up at me.

“Jesus, Paige,” he huffs almost breathlessly, shaking his head. “This pussy and that mouth are a dangerous combination on their own. But you screaming my name from those pretty pink lips is downright fatal.”