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I turn it up a little, picking up my pace to a slow jog, but it’s clearly not enough. He reaches over and hits my button a few times till I’m running.
“Hey, that’s too fast.” I turn it down a little, but he increases his till he’s in an all-out sprint, making it look completely effortless. He reaches down, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor.
I try to keep my gaze forward, but it’s so hard when sweat starts to glisten on his chiseled chest. He’s way more ripped than I expected, and the way his torso flexes as his body twists causes my mouth to go dry. The small hint of dark hair that teased me earlier where his Oxford was unbuttoned makes my eyes grow heavy with lust. Dark hair trailing across his pecs, down his abs, and disappearing beneath his low-slung shorts sends me into orbit and I trip, one foot catching on the other.
I yelp, darting my hands out as I attempt to catch myself but it’s no use. I fall on my hands and knees, the belt of the treadmill shooting me backward into a crumpled ball on the floor.
“Shit!” Cyrus jumps off his treadmill seamlessly as I attempt to right myself. I am beyond mortified.
“Are you okay?” He reaches his hands beneath my arms, pulling me up and onto my feet effortlessly. His hands rest on my shoulders, his thumbs beneath my chin as he tilts my head up and examines me.
“Yup, just my pride is hurt.” My attempt to play it off is useless. My ass and hands really do hurt.
“Lose this.” He reaches down, pulling the hoodie up and over my head in one swift move.
I cross my arms nervously. Somehow, I missed how low-cut this tank was when I put it on. My breasts are pushed together by my bra, giving me way more cleavage than I’m used to having. His eyes turn back to me, dropping from my line of vision right to my chest before slowly inching their way back up.
“Walk for two minutes, then bump it up to a slow run for one minute. It will help you increase your stamina. Repeat that for as long as you can.”
He turns and walks over to the weights as I climb back onto the treadmill. I catch glimpses of him in the floor-length mirror on the opposite end of the gym but he’s too focused on what he’s doing to notice. After fifteen minutes, I’m exhausted and sweaty. I hit the stop button on the treadmill.
“I think I’m done.”
“Already?” He walks over, handing me a towel as he takes a drink from his water bottle. Sweat glistens on his body and I have the indescribable urge to reach out and run my hands down his abs. “You’re going to have to put in some serious work if you plan to keep up with me.” His flirty demeanor is back.
Maybe it’s that switch or maybe it’s the endorphins coursing through my body, but I boldly reach out, taking the water from him and bringing it to my lips. His eyes stay on mine as I tip the bottle back and drink before handing it back to him.
He’s standing at the end of the treadmill, only a few inches between us. I reach out and press a single finger against his chest. “Move,” I say playfully, pushing him back a few inches so I can step down off the belt.
He looks down to where my finger is resting against his bare chest. We’re so close, I can smell the remnants of his expensive cologne mixed with sweat. I don’t know what makes me do it, but I slowly start to drag my finger downward. He darts his hand out, almost instantly wrapping his hand around my own and shaking his head slowly.
“Don’t.” His voice is deep, gravelly almost. When he lifts his eyes to mine again, they’re dark, his eyelids heavy.
“Don’t what?”
“Look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I know I shouldn’t tease him, but I want to. The excitement feels like a ribbon unfurling in my stomach.
He tugs my arm, pulling me forward before walking us backward. My back hits the mirrored wall behind us as he grabs my other hand, pinning them both above my head. An audible huff of shock leaves my chest. I can feel his firm length against my thigh.
“Like you think you can handle me. You’re exhausted after fifteen minutes on a treadmill.” He chuckles, running his nose up my neck until his lips are at my ear, his warm breath tickling me. “Imagine what you’d feel like if I had my way with you.”
I’m biting down on my bottom lip so hard to keep from groaning I wouldn’t be surprised if I tasted blood. My eyes flutter closed, my nipples hardening at the feeling of his hands gripping my wrists so tight.
“I warned you not to play this game with me.” He pulls back, his eyes finding mine. “This is the last time I’m going to hold back. You pull this shit with me again and I swear?—”
He’s studying me, like he’s contemplating if he should finish what he’s saying or if he should shut it down. But in an instant his eyes go from hazy with lust to cold and dark. He drops my hands and steps back.
“Go home, Presley, and do us both a favor and stop embarrassing yourself like this. Wes will give you a ride.” He tosses his towel in the basket near the door and walks out of the gym.
I stand there mortified, even though I should know better by now. Cyrus Gates likes to play the game too, but the second it starts to get too real, he’s over it. Maybe this fantasy of mine is one-sided; maybe it’s not that he wants me; maybe it’s the thrill of the forbidden, but the second I become something attainable, he loses all interest.
Chapter 11
Cyrus
“Cyrus, is there a reason why Miss James reached out to my secretary to see if I would be interested in giving a quote about you for some interview?” Nelson peers at me over his reading glasses from across the boardroom.
