Page 80 of Bitter Confessions

They were both traumatized and wary. They’d been abandoned, ignored, and dismissed, but they were willing to take a chance on each other again. Over the past few days, his regard had been constant. While they ate, when she joined him in his home office to read while he worked, even when she drifted off to sleep at night. He didn’t ask for an explanation for her changed demeanor, chastise her for invading his space, or shy away from her touch. He didn’t just accept what she gave him, either. He demanded more. If she gave him a peck, he wanted to make out. If she leaned into him, she found herself on his lap. If she wanted to undress him, he made sure he did the same with her... and then some. There were still moments when he physically or mentally withdrew. She wasn’t sure if it was sensory overload or if he needed time alone to decompress or assimilate. She didn’t get offended. She knew he needed that and sometimes, she did too.

She loved surprising him. It was fast becoming her favorite hobby and one of the reasons she forced herself to roll out of bed today. She was curious how he’d react to her invading another sacred space of his.

Mo opened the heavy door for her. She stepped into the gym and raised a hand to shield her eyes. The space was brightly lit and filled with top-of-the-line equipment. The early hour must be pushing it for other billionaires, because the only one occupying the space was hers. Johan nodded to her as he jogged on one of the treadmills in front of the window. Roth was on a mat doing a plank, his body as straight as a board, weight braced on his forearms and feet, which were pressed together.

Feeling a little mischievous, Jasmine tiptoed over to him. As she neared, his head started to come up. She closed the distance between them at a run, hopped onto his back, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Looking good, baby,” she purred.

He easily took her weight while keeping his body completely rigid. When he scanned the gym, it took her a moment to realize he was eyeing Mo and Johan to see how she’d gotten here.

“I called my babysitters. How else would I get here?” she muttered.

“I thought I told you to go back to sleep.” His tone was even, not winded, despite him dripping with sweat.

“Since when do I obey every word you say?” she taunted.

He tipped abruptly to the right too quickly for her to grip him with her legs to stop herself from tumbling off. She landed on her back and blinked when he propped himself over her.

“You obeyed every word I said last night.”

“Sometimes, following orders comes with rewards, but when it doesn’t...” She hooked her leg over his hip and oh so slowly arched against him. “I do what I want.”

His eyes heated. She met him halfway when his head lowered. She took his hungry kiss—the one he should have given her before he left her in bed—and returned it with interest. She stuck her tongue in his mouth and pulled on his sweaty hair.

“Boss.”

Roth lifted his head at Johan’s warning a second before the door opened. A tall man wearing headphones came in. He didn’t look around as he made his way over to a treadmill and started it with quick, impatient jabs. Apparently, he wasn’t happy to be up at this hour either.

Roth looked down at her. He didn’t say a word, but she knew he was trying to decide whether to work out or work her.

She held her hands up innocently. “I didn’t come to distract you.”

His eyes narrowed, making her laugh. The man on the treadmill turned his head in their direction. Immediately, she quieted, not wanting to draw attention to them or bother anyone who woke at this hour to exercise in blessed silence.

“I just came for moral support,” she said as she wriggled out from under him. “I’m going to walk on the treadmill.”

He didn’t stop her as she made her way over to Johan and hopped onto the treadmill beside him. She set an easy pace, staring out at the city that had yet to wake. She quickly realized she should have brought headphones. The gym was as quiet as a church, aside from an occasional grunt as someone lifted weights, the door opening as more men trickled in, and Johan and the guy several machines down running full-out. She felt like a slacker beside Johan, who’d been running for close to forty minutes with the treadmill inclined. Peer pressure had her inclining her own machine and leveling up to a light jog. By the time Roth appeared beside her and smacked the stop button, she was seconds away from a cramp.

“Wha—?” she gasped as the belt slowed. She tried not to clutch the stitch in her side. “What’d you do that for?”

“You said you were going to walk,” he said, clearly displeased, as he offered her a bottle of water.

“I decided to run.” She gulped greedily and leaned on the handrail as she rotated her foot to stop the oncoming cramp in her calf.

“You’re going too hard.”

“Says the man who works out two to three times a day,” she drawled.

“I’m conditioned for it. You aren’t.”

“No need to rub it in.”

“I’m not. I don’t want you sore.” When she raised a brow, he glared at her. “I want you sore from what I do to you, not from a fucking treadmill.”

“Roth.”

They turned as the man three treadmills down strolled over. He tugged his headphones down, so they were hanging around his neck. He had dark brown eyes, high cheekbones, and unruly brown hair.

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