Page 21 of Deep Cover

She’d met some cocky guys before, but O seemed to have invented the letter just for his personal use. He strutted over to the leg machine.

She was still trying to figure out where to file O in her mental catalogue of this place when he called over to her. “Nice form, by the way. On the treadmill.”

The thud of fists on the punching bag stopped, and she felt the weight of Reid’s stare on her.

“Thanks,” she said with a measure of dryness. She was sure O was just stirring up trouble between them.

Turning back to the wall, she fought to find her rhythm again. She was used to running in a big facility with lots of windows and views, and she definitely needed more than a view of her almost/maybe fiancé.

“Seriously, though. We could at least get some windows around here.”

Reid didn’t break his pace. Thud, thud, thud. “I told her there’s a hall.” He was a little out of breath.

“A hall doesn’t count. I mean an actual view. Something to look at besides gray.” She hit the incline button again, pushing it steeper out of pure irritation. “Why do the treadmills even face the wall? You could angle them toward the door..”

She was breathing harder now too, sweat starting to bead at her hairline. “It’s borderline sensory deprivation.”

“Rivers doesn’t have a problem with the view,” O said casually.

She whipped around so fast she nearly lost her footing on the belt and shot off the back. She slapped the safety rail to catch herself. “You’re staring at my ass, aren’t you?”

“No.” Reid at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“More lies.” Her tone was flat though her chest had gone traitorously warm at knowing he was staring at her.

“Just a little one. A little white one.”

“Unbelievable.” She shook her head, making her ponytail swing. There was little heat behind her words now, and she hated that she wasn’t hating him the way she wanted to.

She heard O’s reps come to a finish. A second later came the low noise of the door closing again. She turned her head to see if someone else entered, but O was nowhere to be seen.

The treadmill hummed beneath her feet, and she kept running. Stopping meant facing what she refused to admit.

From the corner of her eye, she watched Reid strip off his gloves, slow and methodical. Buying time.

Then he crossed the room toward her, every step deliberate, and her pulse took off before her brain caught up.

He reached out and hit the stop button on her treadmill. Her momentum threatened to send her planting face first, but he caught her around the waist and cupped her jaw with his other hand before the belt fully slowed beneath her feet.

Then his mouth was on hers, hard and sure—nothing at all like the desperate, grief-soaked kiss she’d started in her room hours ago.

This kiss felt like a decision.

She let it happen for three full heartbeats before she found the sense to shove a hand against his chest. Breathless and furious with her own body, she glared at him.

“What was that for?” She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth to erase the taste of him even as she wished for more of it.

Reid didn’t step back or look remotely sorry. “Payback.”

She opened her mouth to fire back, to voice the sharp words that would put distance right back where it belonged between them. But infuriatingly, nothing came out.

Her whole body was humming from the kiss, from his arm banded around her waist as if he deserved the right to touch her.

The grief she’d lived with collided head-on with the fact that he was standing right here, warm and real and looking at her that way.

“Get off the treadmill,” was all she managed, pushing out of his grip before she did something even more reckless.

He let her go.