Page 54 of Pulse
“Depends where I am.”
“Right. Okay. What if you’re home?”
He drops to the floor and begins pumping out push-ups. I peer over the end of the bed to watch. His back muscles ripple with each movement, and I wonder why someone hasn’t videotaped this and sold it online as porn. Because this little show makes me as wet as anything.
Damn.
“What are you doing?” I ask, laughing.
“I didn’t get a workout in today.”
I snort. “I think you’ll be just fine missing one workout.”
He pushes his body up and down with what looks like very little effort.
“What if you’re home?” I ask again.
“If I’m home, I change clothes. I like to work out before I eat if I can help it. Grab a shower. Then I sit in the living room or bed and read a book or watch television.”
“What do you read?”
He groans, breathing harder as he bangs out a few more push-ups. Then he rocks back and sits on his knees. “What do I read?” He shrugs. “It depends. I like biographies. Fiction. I also really like those coffee table books on specific topics.”
“You’re so surprising.”
“What?” He smiles. “Did you think I didn’t read?”
“No. It’s just when I think you couldn’t possibly get any hotter, you find a way to throw more gas on the fire.”
His smile turns mischievous. “I’m hot, huh?”
“I think we’re beyond pretending like we aren’t attracted to each other.”
“Fair enough. What do you do at night?”
My cheeks flame, and I can’t wipe the smile off my face.
“What?” he asks, grinning. “Tell me.”
I try to answer him with a response that leaves out masturbating while imagining him doing dirty things to me as the last thing I do. But the amusement on his face, like he suspects the truth, keeps me from speaking.
“Doll …”
I wiggle deeper under the blankets. “I go to yoga or Pilates. Go home. Eat with Burt half the time.”
“Burt?”
“My neighbor. He’s in his midseventies, and we’rebest neighbors, he says. He doesn’t have kids and isn’t married, and I feel bad for the guy. I don’t think he has a lot of extra cash, so I bring enough dinner home or cook enough for both of us most nights.”
Troy gets to his feet and stretches. “That’s really nice of you.”
“I don’t do it for anatta girl.”
“I didn’t say you did. But it’s still nice of you.” He sits on the edge of the bed. “What do you do after you eat?”
“Shower. Get my picture taken, apparently.”
His eyes darken.
