Page 139 of Caught from Behind

I shrug, move to the bike, I’ll just do more cardio.

I sit down, start to clip in, and?—

She yanks the plug out of the wall. “It’s enough,” she grits out.

Fucking women.

I stand up, avoid the weights, because she’ll probably just take those away too—or try to, anyway—and make my way to the pull-up bar, jumping with a grunt (and significant burning in my quads).

Ignoring that, I start driving.

One. Two. Three?—

A hand on my leg, yanking down, nearly succeeding in dislodging me.

“Get a fucking clue, lioness,” I say, shaking her off and continuing.

“Ugh!” She tosses up her hands, shakes her head. “Fine. You want to fuck up your body by pushing it too hard? Whatever. But just remember that your team needs you for the playoffs, so if you injure yourself like an idiot because you don’t know when to quit that’s on you.”

Rant complete, she marches away, giving me a glimpse of those seriously toned legs, that lush ass.

Fucking sexy as shit.

And she hates me, no matter how hard—or not—I work.

Ignoring the bolt of lust as I always do—or as I’ve done since she made it very clear she wasn’t interested, I keep going.

Four. Five. Six?—

She’s reached the door now, but…paused.

Seven. Eight. Nine?—

No, not paused. She’s jiggling the handle and…

Ten.

I jump down, swipe my arm over my forehead and move over to her. “What’s the matter?”

She jerks away from me when I get close then scowls up at me. “The door’s locked.”

“It’s never locked.”

“You think I don’t know how to turn a handle, along with knowing nothing about how to do my job?”

I wince. “I didn’t say that.”

“Maybe not in so many words,” she mutters.

And…that’s hurt in her eyes.

Fuck.

“Ivy.”

She steps back, mask firmly in place. “Never mind.” She nods at the knob. “Aren’t you going to mansplain how to open a door for me?”

“Lioness—”

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