Page 40 of The Woman

Shame crawls up the back of my neck at the thought of doing that, especially now knowing how she was well aware of everything happening at the time. That, along with jealousy at the idea of him with her, has me lifting a hand to squeeze at the uncomfortable sensation building in my neck.

I’m on the fence about whether or not I should be apologizing for it. Technically, I did nothing wrong to warrant an apology. Had she been chosen by someone else, it could have happened as well, only they probably wouldn’t have taken her back as I did. Or worse, she could have been discovered and sent off.

I grind down on my molars and take a sip of coffee, mumbling out a “Yes” in reply.

Then, to answer the rest of her question and change the subject, I add, “I didn’t go walking around the city by myself, but I did occasionally ride a bike at Edison’s house. My upbringing could be classed as stricter than other children.”

In fact, it isn’t as dissimilar to hers as she may think. I was always expected to act respectfully around others, and much of my life was regimented.

The twist of her lips as she processes what I said has my eyes dropping to them and thinking about how they felt against mine. Lush and soft and pliant. My cock stirs at the memory, so I force myself to think of something else and face forward, picking up the last piece of my bagel.

“So, if you’re not going to have sex with me, what are you going to do with me?”

Her question has my last bite of food halting its journey in my throat, causing me to choke. Of course, Avery rushes over to pat me on the back.

“I’m fine,” I manage to wheeze out between coughs.

“Are you sure?”

Another cough.

“Yes. I’m fine,” I reply, swallowing everything down and clearing my throat. After taking a sip of my coffee, I get to my feet and step around Avery to place my dishes in the dishwasher. “I’m going to work out for a bit.”

I hadn’t planned on it, but it’s a good enough excuse to be away from her and her probing questions for now. I leave her standing there and head to my room to change into sweatpants before heading into my home gym, completely ignoring her last question.

Her scent invades even this room, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s come looking around in here when I’m not home. It wouldn’t surprise me, now knowing what I do.

After getting some cardio out of the way, I head for the free weights. Although running on the treadmill helped alleviate some of my restless energy, it hasn’t stopped my mind from whirling with all the new information from the past twenty-four hours.

She’s a fucking WOUN. And I have no idea what to do with her.

I must admit, being in the company of someone who can actually converse with me is nice. Her questions and answers are stimulating. She is stimulating.

It messes with my mind and my previous convictions about having a woman in my home.

I change to a heavier weight for the third time, needing to feel the burn.

But this time, when I face the mirrored wall, I catch Avery standing hidden near the doorway in the hall. Her head is barely visible, but she’s definitely there, watching me.

With my gaze still on her, I continue lifting the weights, my muscles straining while sweat forms on my chest and back. I wonder yet again what she’s thinking about in that gorgeous head of hers, what she sees when she looks at me.

Ignore her.

Turning back to my own reflection in the mirror, I pump the weights harder, pushing myself more than usual and counting backward. Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . .

I drop the weights to the ground once the set is finished, my breaths coming out in short bursts, and my body slick with sweat. Each muscle throbs with a good type of pain, and endorphins are already filling my bloodstream.

My eyes unintentionally drift to the doorway again, but I don’t see her standing there anymore. Mixed feelings agitate my newly relaxed mind, and then I scoff at how ridiculous I’m being.

After a long drink of water, I move to the leg press, getting into position just as my phone starts ringing.

“Hello,” I answer, putting it on speaker.

“Phoenix.” My grandfather’s voice comes through the line while I straighten my legs, then let the weight push them back. There’s a pause, so I check the screen to make sure I’m still connected. “Did you finish Mark Anderson’s rendering yet?”

Shit. He’s been relatively quiet on the matter, but I knew he’d start asking about it soon enough.

“It’s coming along. I was finishing up other projects first.”

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