He sighs, hitting a falsetto note that’s so sexy, and it would drive him nuts to know that it makes me think of boy bands.
I wait for him to exhale, feel him start to relax, and slowly lower myself to the mattress, bringing him with me.
I love feeling the weight of him on my back, all spent and limber, pressing me into the comforter. He starts to lift himself up, but I clench around him, grab his hand, and say, “No. Stay.” With a gentle urgency that doesn’t scare him off. I know he’ll want to clean up, so I tell him, “Just for a minute, okay?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He rests on top of me again, staying as still as he can while our breaths and heart rates slow. I would imagine his resting heart rate is normally much slower than mine, for workout reasons. But I bet mine will be lower than his while we lie here because I’m not anxious about what this means.
I know what it means.
It means I fractured his fortress and little by little, it will crumble at my feet.
He’ll try to rebuild it, but he’ll have to build it around both of us this time.
I guess I drifted off to sleep, just like I did last night.
Once again, Brad has covered me with the comforter. He is lying with his back to me, which is fine. I’m not big on spooning. Especially when the guy who has his back to me has such a magnificent backside.
And so, for the aftercourse, which is what follows the intercourse, I take a very dainty, ladylike bite of his right butt cheek as he sleeps.
He must be sleeping very soundly, or perhaps I should have bitten harder. He doesn’t clench or move, so I kiss my way up that friendly gluteal slope, down to the small of his back, all the way up to his very powerful shoulders, and over to a part of him that I’m very fond of—the back of his neck.
“Kissin’ my back,” he mutters, to the tune of “As It Was” by Harry Styles. “Somebody’s kissin’ my back.”
I growl-sing like Eddie Vedder into his neck. “Heeyyyyy, IIIIIII, ohhhhhh, I had to bite.”
“That was a first,” he says.
“Was it? You didn’t even flinch.” There’s no way to tell time in here, so I reach around to find his dick to see if it’s bone o’clock again.
He grabs my wrist—not in a rough way—and says, “It stopped raining. I’m gonna go back up there. Pull up the anchor and get underway… Okay?”
I release an exasperated sigh. “One time? Once?”
“Not enough for you?”
“I’m afraid it won’t ever be enough.” I’m not being a drama queen—that’s just the truth. I am a fucking goddess who is speaking her truth. I take my hand back and stare up at the porthole above me. “Is it enough for you?”
“It will have to be.”
“Why? Gym policy? Or Mitch policy? Is there specific wording in your employee handbook? Is there a formal code of conduct? About not dating clients?”
Now he’s sighing and staring up at the porthole above us, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s not in the handbook. It’s an unwritten policy…I think.”
Aha. There it is. Another fracture. “Get me a copy of all of your corporate documents and the handbook. I’ll read through them to make sure there’s nothing in them that would get you into trouble.” He starts to speak, but I continue. “Assign me toanother trainer. If necessary, you can have your lawyer change the wording.”
“Won’t that create suspicion?”
“You can either relieve yourself and your employees and possibly other gym members of paranoia and angst and blue balls, or you can run the risk of creating suspicion. Those are your options. Personally, I doubt that your lawyer or his or her paralegal has enough time in his or her schedule to wonder whether or not you’re boning your gym’s members. Unless, of course, he or she has eyes and can see you with them.”
He scrubs his face with the palm of his hand. I am exhausting him—I know it—but he wants me to wear him down—I know it. “I don’t want this to change the way I run my gym. I didn’t set out to open a nightclub with exercise equipment. This isn’t Crunch Fitness.”
I cover my mouth, but I can’t suppress the laugh. Oh my God, he’s such a nerd.
He gives the side of my butt a slap, under the comforter, sits up, and says, “All right, that’s it. The clothes should be dry by now. I’m going back up to the bridge. We’ll keep cruising up the channel, but I probably won’t do the full loop around Sauvie, okay?”
“Whatever you say, Captain. I’ll read down here for a bit and then go back up to the cockpit.”