Page 26 of Her Billionaire Bossholes

I swear I can still feel the weight of her body against mine, the heat radiating between us as our movements became fluid and synchronized. Each twist and turn on the mat brought us closer together, our bodies moving in perfect harmony. The intensity of the moment had drawn us into a world where nothing else mattered except the raw passion that pulsed through our veins.

But now, reality crashes back into my consciousness like a tidal wave, reminding me of the mortifying truth.

"Come on, let's check your head out," she insists, hopping down again.

To make matters even worse, she turns around and holds her hand up to me like a mother to her child.

"I'm good," I insist, climbing off the platform.

She steers me to a chair and her fingers dive into my hair despite the clear dampening of my sweat. The feeling of her fingertips massaging my scalp is indescribable.

"What are you doing?"

She tilts my head this way and that. "Checking for bruises or fractures."

My eyes flutter closed as Charlie's gentle touch travels through my hair, her fingertips expertly navigating the landscape of my scalp. It's a peculiar juxtaposition - the aftermath of my embarrassing display in the ring, coupled with the intimate tenderness of her examination. Despite the throbbing ache in my ego, I can't help but surrender to the soothing sensation that washes over me.

Her voice breaks through my reverie, interrupting the tranquility that has settled upon us. "No bumps or lumps," she declares, retracting her hand and resting it on my shoulder. "You got lucky.”

"If that's what you call it," I mutter.

Charlie's smile widens, her eyes flickering with something mischievous. "Luck had nothing to do with it, Mr. Carter. Bad joke. You put up quite a fight out there.”

I raise an eyebrow, skepticism mingling with the lingering traces of humiliation. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"A little," she admits sheepishly.

The ache in my muscles intensifies, reminding me that I'm not anywhere near Charlie's level. And while my determination may burn bright, my body needs time to recover.

As I sit in the chair, the weight of my defeat settles heavily upon my shoulders. The adrenaline that had fueled me during the match now drains from my body, leaving me feeling weak and defeated. I watch as Charlie moves around the gym, tidying up equipment and wiping down the mats with a grace and ease that only highlights my own shortcomings.

My mind replays the embarrassing moments over and over again, each replay bringing with it a fresh surge of humiliation. As I gather the shreds of my dignity, I realize that ending the night here is the only option.

"Thanks for the workout," I say sincerely, trying to mask the disappointment in my voice. "I'm gonna call it a night, though."

Her smile fades slightly, but she nods in understanding. "Yes, sir. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," I respond, heading out of the gym and toward my bedroom--what I should have done instead of making a fool out of myself in front of the first woman I've been truly attracted to in years.

23

CHARLIE

Isit up, groaning with frustration. "Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous."

Exhausted, and yet unable to sleep.

Why?

Because I'm a fucking idiot who made her boss puke after beating the shit out of him.

I kick the sheets off of me and get out of bed, heading to the bathroom for a shower. The hot water always helps me think and, although I'd really rather think about anything but almost losing my job, there are several things I need to think through.

Like his hands on my hips and his firm, hard body resting between my legs... pressing against me in the most delicious of ways.

You're so screwed, Charlie. So screwed.

Clenching my jaw, I step under the stream of water and let it scald my skin as if it might burn away all of my sins. The first of which being my absolute obsession with the memory of Caleb growling in my ear when he pinned my hands against the mat.

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