Page 18 of The Worst Guy Ever
I’m out of breath because he caught me changing after a gym class. Endorphins are screaming through my body and I can’t think of a better way to keep this high going than a good screw. Fuck him for phoning me up, and frankly, fuck me for rushing to answer it.
Two days. That’s all that’s left of our bet. I just need to make it through two days and I’ll have won. I don’t trust myself, though. For the past few days, he’s occupied all of my thoughts. He’s in my head when I wake up and imagine him lying next to me, he’s there all day long with his flirty texts. I love how bold he is about wanting me. He even sent me a dick pic that had me reaching for my vibrator and staring at it the whole time I got off. Who does that?
I could go and see him, I’ve got his address. I asked Luke for it in a moment of weakness. Could get in my car and be there in twenty minutes, tearing off his clothes and sliding down onto him. I press my eyes closed, forcing myself to take slow, deep breaths. Two days. I can last two days, I just need to keep my head elsewhere.
What I really need is to concentrate on work and make sure my project doesn’t get derailed by Lawrence. I could barely sleep last night for worrying about it. Megan and I met Kara for dinner and drinks, but I skipped out early because they were in a gorgeous, silly mood, and I just felt like a black cloud dragging them down.
No, I can’t go home or I’ll flirt with him more. I tug my sweaty gym clothes back on, grab my gloves, and head upstairs. I can’t get on my knees for him if I’m busy kicking the shit out of a punchbag and picturing his face.
An hour later, I exit through the turnstile, scrolling through five more emails from Lawrence who seems hell-bent on ruining my Saturday with yet more dumb questions. Before I can reach them, the doors ahead of me slide open to reveal the last person I want to see.
Rob Meathead Morgan is a vision in black sweatpants, a matching hoodie, and a fucking backwards cap. I don’t think there is a woman on this earth who wouldn’t want to climb him like a tree, tear those clothes off, and get to work. Though I’d let him keep the cap on.
He removes one earbud, a huge smile spreading across his face when he spots me. My face does the same before I can wrangle it back into a frown.
“Seriously Rob? Leave me alone.”
He holds his hands up to his chest, palms towards me. “I didn’t know you were here, I swear. I just came to work out.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Honestly. I work out when I’m tense.”
“Why are you so tense?” I ask. He steps a little closer and lets his eyes fall down past my face.
“Why do you think?”
“Don’t start,” I say, hoisting my gym bag further up my shoulder. “I’m not in the mood for your shit.”
“What’s happened?” he asks, his tone turning sincere.
“Just work stuff,” I shrug. When I duck left he does too, his bulky frame forcing me into a stand-off as he blocks my path to the door. I’m about to tear him a new one when he rests one hand on my shoulder and squeezes. One touch is all it takes. Warm, firm, the pressure soothing away tension he caused in the first place.
I roll my lips together, forcing my eyes down so he can’t see how much he affects me. Hiding is futile. The next thing I feel is his hand on my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his.
I’m not short, but he is so tall. Looming over me, he takes up all the space in my vision. His eyes flit back and forth between mine, and when a little wrinkle appears between his eyebrows, he steals my breath too.
“Want to talk about it?”
I shake my head, but can’t tear my eyes away. A month ago, I’d have punched him in the arm and barged my way past. Now I’m powerless to do anything but stand here taking in the dip in his top lip, the fullness of the lower one.
“Come on,” he smiles, giving my cheeks a playful squeeze. “I can skip leg day, let’s go get a bite to eat.”
I open my mouth to object and he moves fast, his hot palm smothering it before I can get any words out. Part of me wants to kick and scream, but my eyes roll back because the traitorous bitch between my legs is apparently super into this. I think I’m about to lose our bet right here in the gym foyer.
“You do eat, right?” he laughs, and a deep rumble from my stomach gives me away. I am starving actually. I pull his hand away but he hooks his thumb over my fingers and doesn’t let go.
“Did you say something about burritos?”
“That’s my girl.” He lifts my bag from my shoulder and throws it over his. “After you.”
It’s a short walk to our local Mexican diner, probably my favourite place to eat in a town with not that many choices.
“I need to reply to a couple of emails. Could you order for me?”
“Sure. What will you have?”
“Just order two of what you’re having. I can handle heat.”
