“You can head to the gym now, Angus,” he told his driver, settling back in the seat. Then he pulled his smartphone out of his pocket. He saved my new number into his contact list; then he took my new phone out of my hand and programmed my list with his home, office, and cell numbers.
He’d barely finished when we arrived at CrossTrainer. Not surprisingly, the three-story fitness center was a health enthusiast’s dream. I was impressed with every sleek, modern, top-of-the-line inch of it. Even the women’s locker room was like something out of a science fiction movie.
But my awe was totally eclipsed by Gideon himself when I finished changing into my workout clothes and found him waiting for me out in the hallway. He’d changed into long shorts and a tank, which gave me my first look at his bare arms and legs.
I came to an abrupt halt and someone coming out behind me bumped into me. I could barely manage an apology; I was too busy visually devouring Gideon’s smokin’ hot body. His legs were toned and powerful, flawlessly proportional to his trim hips and waist. His arms made my mouth water. His biceps were precisely cut and his forearms were coursing with thick veins that were both brutal looking and sexy as hell. He’d tied his hair back, which showed off the definition of his neck and traps, and the sculpted angles of his face.
Christ. I knew this man intimately. My brain couldn’t wrap itself around that fact, not while faced with the irrefutable evidence of how uniquely beautiful he was.
And he was scowling at me.
Straightening away from the wall where he’d been leaning, he came toward me, and then circled me. His fingertips ran along my bare midriff and back as he made the revolution, sending goose bumps racing over my skin. When he stopped in front of me, I threw my arms around his neck and pulled his mouth down for a quick, playfully smacking kiss.
“What the hell are you wearing?” he asked, looking marginally appeased by my enthusiastic greeting.
“Clothes.”
“You look naked in that top.”
“I thought you liked me naked.” I was secretly pleased with my choice, which I’d made that morning before I’d known he’d be with me. The top was a triangle with long straps at the shoulders and ribs that secured with Velcro and could be worn in a variety of ways to allow the wearer to determine where her breasts needed the most support. It was specially designed for curvy women and was the first top I’d ever had that kept me from bouncing all over the place. What Gideon objected to was the nude color, which coordinated with the racing stripes on the matching black yoga pants.
“I like you naked in private,” he muttered. “I’ll need to be with you whenever you go to the gym.”
“I won’t complain, since I’m very much enjoying the view at the moment.” Plus, I was perversely excited by his possessiveness after the hurt he’d inflicted with his withdrawal Saturday night. Two very different extremes—the first of many, I was sure.
“Let’s get this over with.” He grabbed my hand and led me away from the locker rooms, snatching two logo’d towels off a stack as we passed them. “I need to fuck you.”
“I need to be fucked.”
“Jesus, Eva.” His grip on my hand tightened to the point that it hurt. “Where to? Free weights? Machines? Treadmills?”
“Treadmills. I want to run a bit.”
He led me in that direction. I watched the way women followed him with their gazes, then their feet. They wanted to be in whatever section of the gym he was, and I couldn’t blame them. I was dying to see him in action, too.
When we reached the seemingly endless rows of treadmills and bikes, we found that there weren’t two treadmills free adjacent to each other.
Gideon walked up to a man who had two open on either side of him. “I’d be in your debt if you’d move over one.”
The guy looked at me and grinned. “Yeah, sure.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”