look. She’s calm and composed and balanced—on one leg. I am not. Even standing on two legs and admiring her figure from behind. My insides are in chaos. Bedlam ensues. My nerves are in turmoil. Only my cock is super happy.
The sight of her slim naked waist is a mating call to every cell in my body. She’s done it again. Disrupted my best laid plans. I don’t know what to admire more. The fact that she can stand upright without toppling over, or the beads of sweat on her back.
“When did you get back?” I ask casually, as I get up and walk towards the treadmill.
“What?” She breaks the pose so that both feet are firmly planted on her mat. She also looks pissed that I’m interrupting her workout, but I need to know. “What time did you get back?”
“Why?”
She’s annoyed at me. At first I’m surprised, but then I remember. I told her we couldn’t continue with what we were doing. I more or less laid the blame on her and now I want to make amends. “I’m just trying to make conversation.”
“Why?” She takes the top off her water bottle and takes a long sip. With her chin tilted like that, her neck is elongated, and I wonder what it would be like to kiss her there.
I start walking on the treadmill. “Because we’re both in here, and I’m trying to be polite.”
She doesn’t answer. She looks too angry to make talk, and I should have known better. We get on with our workouts in silence.
Because I need the distance between us, I move away towards the corner where the weights are and lie down on the bench. This is easier, lying on my back on a bench, because it makes it almost impossible for me to look at her. Yet if I tilt my head, I can still see her reflection in the mirror.
Fuck.
This is way worse because now she’s lying on her back with her legs straight up in the air. I can’t help but watch her. I’m mesmerised admiring her cute butt as she does little crunches by lifting up with her hips.
My heart rate spikes further when her legs fold over her stomach so that her toes are touching the space on the floor next to her head. Crab like.
Fuck, no.
That familiar twitch in my pants is back. Tiny beads of sweat start to slowly form along my hairline.
She’s doing this on purpose because she knows how it affects me.
I decide to do the same to her and work through the various weight machines. We work like this quietly, pretending to ignore one another. The atmosphere is strained.
She catches me looking at her as she bends over to pick up her water bottle again. “What?” she snaps.
“Nothing. I was just—” I don’t finish the sentence because it would be rude to tell her that I was admiring her figure.
She takes a step towards me. “You were what?”
“Nothing, I was just—” Her gaze dips to my biceps as I continue to pull the weight down, smoothly.
Two can play at this game. If she’s going to give me something to stare at, I’m going to do the same back.
We’ve crossed a line somewhere. This isn’t how a boss and his housekeeper communicate, but my twitching cock reminds me that that’s not who we are any more.
“Why are you in here?” Her face twists. I’ve never seen her this angry before. “You never come here this early.”
“I live here. This is my house.” Technically it’s not mine, and I wait for her to point this out, and when she doesn’t, “You seem angry with me, more so than usual.”
“Do I need to spell it out for you?”
I have an inkling but I’d rather hear it from her. “Please do.”
Angry lines form on her brow. “I don’t want your small talk. You don’t have to make polite conversation just because we happen to be in the same room together. It seems pathetic, after what you said the other day.”
I knew it. “You’re mad at me for saying we had to stop.”
“I’m mad at you for implying that I was the one who had designs on you,” she protests.
“I can’t focus with you around.”
That seems to hurt her. Something flickers in her expression and I regret what I’ve said. I don’t mean to say that. I need her around me. I want her around. I want something different. I want to say I’m sorry for saying what I