Page 26 of Spinning Out Of Control

“One private jet for my little pest, coming right up.”

I know it shouldn’t, but the way he says that word like it’s a dirty promise makes my knees weak.

Pest.

He called me that on the dance floor. He repeated it when I was on my knees, teasing his delicious piercings with my tongue. It made me feel powerful then, like I was holding him in the palm of my hand.

Now? It makes me feel like I’m putty in his.

“Why are you smiling like you’re the cat who got the cream?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t notice the way my breathing has picked up from his nearness.

“Just thinking how cute it was that you told me to be afraid of you.”

This time, I get to smile maniacally.

“You still should be. You want to take a live class with every instructor, right? Good news. I’ve got a seat in the front row of my sixty-minute tabata ride with your name on it.”

His smile falters slightly, and I pat a hand on his chest.

“Better do some stretches, old man. I’ll see you in Studio B in twenty minutes.”

I jump off the desk, duck under Warren’s arm, and sashay out of the room.

I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my facewhen I feel his eyes locked on my ass, watching me as I go.

Later that evening,after a day of teaching, filming, and going over next week’s schedules with the production team, I’m practically dead on my feet as I cross the empty Spin Sync lobby. I’m sore, I’m tired, and I’m ready to cuddle up on my couch and spend my evening binge watching Gilmore Girls with Pancakes.

I’ve got my eyes down, glued to my phone screen while I try to decide which of my hundreds of playlists will be best for tonight’s foggy walk home. I’ve just decided on Jefferson Airplane–a classic San Francisco band for a classic San Francisco night–when an arm reaches out over my shoulder, pushing the glass door open in front of me.

“You headed to the garage?” Warren asks, his voice muffled by the headphones covering my ears.

“No, I live close by. I’m going to walk.”

“Perfect, I walked today, too. I’ll join you.”

I wish I could say that I keep myself from rolling my eyes at him, but I’d be lying.

“Aren’t you in Pacific Heights with the other gazillionaires? I’m headed towards Haight Street. We’re going opposite directions.” I shrug half-heartedly andstep through the door, power walking in the direction of my home without a backwards glance. Warren might not be much taller than me, but he certainly has long legs. He uses that stride to catch up with me without breaking a sweat.

“I am in Pac Heights, but I’m not opposed to taking the scenic route. It's a beautiful night. Chilly, but that’s San Francisco for you. And besides, I need to know where to pick you up for our trip, don’t I?”

I don’t look up at him, but I can still feel his cheeky smile like a brand on my skin. Sighing, I slow my pace to a stroll. I’m too exhausted to keep up a near-running pace all the way home, and I can’t stop the man from walking on a public sidewalk.

But that doesn’t mean I have to talk to him.

I make a show of swiping on my phone screen and pressing play on “White Rabbit”. The haunting melody and soothing voice of Grace Slick fills my ears as we fall in step next to each other, instantly transporting me back to the San Francisco of the sixties. I sneak a glance at Warren from the corner of my eye and find him watching me, his eyes locked in on my profile. Those bright blue eyes swim with the same mystery, interest, and desire that they always have. He looks at me the same way he looked at me at James and Georgie’s wedding.

Like he wants to lick every single inch of me, and like he knows I might let him.

Warren was an incredibly good sport today, sittingin the front row of my tabata class and never complaining. Even when I called him out specifically, using him as an example of how not to sit on the bike (even though his form was perfect) and telling the class to boo the CEO who thought I’d miss him trying to skip an interval (he hadn’t been), he pedaled with a smile on his face. Even when “No Scrubs”played and I pointed and sang to him during every chorus, he looked like he was having the time of his life. Like my attention was all he wanted, even if that attention was negative.

I had to keep reminding myself why I was supposed to not like him

He took your job, and he hates fish. He’s a monster.

I don’t understand him. He’s just so willing to offer himself up as my punching bag, and I keep on taking swings.

Man, I can be such an asshole.

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