by Lily Zante
I head towards the spa because I have a better idea—relaxing in the hot tub. The warm water will help me to unwind and once I start listening to my music, I'll be able to get a good night’s sleep. I’ll be fully charged and ready for whatever new regimen Lou has in store for me tomorrow.
I walk into the spa and take off my sweatshirt and sweat pants next to the hot tub. That’s when I notice that the light inside the sauna is on. The windows are steamed but when I look through the glass, it’s empty inside.
I assume that Lou must have left it switched on, so I open the door, and it’s like the flame from a blowtorch seared me.
But that’s not all. My heart nearly jumps out of my chest because Harper’s inside. She’s sitting on the floor, looking as shocked as I am.
“What are you doing there?” I ask. Did she fall, or slip? And then I realize that there’s no steam coming out of the vents, even though the room is hot.
She gets up slowly, clutching the towel around her as if it’s a life buoy and she’s sinking in an ocean. She opens her mouth but nothing comes out. And then I understand. She’s hiding from me.
This is the temptation I so badly didn't need.
She stares straight at me and blinks. Her hair is piled high on her head, and her skin is wet. I see her pile of discarded clothes on the bench.
Fuck.
This is a moment of many firsts. I don’t know what to process first. That I can see her long, slim neck, or her bare, wet shoulders, or that underneath that towel, she’s naked.
My cock hardens in an instant.
She’s trying to hold the towel tight around her as if I could X-ray vision right through it.
I can't walk away now, but I should. I have a big fight and my neck is on the line; my reputation, my need to prove everyone wrong. My desire to claim the title—all of this is on the line.
I should walk away.
But my cock has other ideas.
My hand is on the doorknob, and I know my limits.
But I can still have some fun.
Not that type of fun. I can't get involved, but I can have a little fun with Harper. She looks so uptight right now, it would be the right thing for me to walk away.
But I always do the right thing. And now I don’t want to.
So I close the door, and I stay.
Chapter Twenty-Six
HARPER
* * *
I want to vanish, just like the wisps of steam vanish into the air, but Eli is looking down on me as I slowly stand up. I feel stupid.
I dove onto the floor as soon as I saw him near the hot tub. He’s the last person I expected to see, and I was so sure I had the place to myself. I’m surprised I’m not having a heart attack right now.
Now he’s looking down at me as if I’m an idiot. He’s not silly; he knows I was trying to hide from him.
“I dropped something,” I say, and put a hand to my neck. “My necklace.”
I crouch back down on the floor, and pretend to look for it, and I'm buying time trying to think of something smart to say.
He chuckles then sits on the wooden bench watching me. He doesn’t believe me. I wouldn’t believe me. So I get up, because there is no necklace, and because I need to stop digging myself deeper into this hole.
“Found it?” he asks with a twinkle in his eyes.
I'm not going to answer that because we both know the truth. “You said you weren't coming back until later,” I say, securing the towel around me as if it’s shrink-wrap. I sit across from him because he's taken my bench. Only, his body seems to take up half of it. Even though he isn’t built like those grotesque body-builders with oversized muscles, to me he seems larger than life, bigger than he looks in the boxing ring. Maybe because the sauna is a confined space and he fills it beautifully.
“I changed my mind.”
I try to look him directly in the eye, but it takes all my willpower to keep it trained on his face when my mind seems to take on a life of its own and my eyes want to drop to his bare chest and below. “Why?”
“Jake and Santos wanted to see the sights, and get friendly with the locals.”
Breathing suddenly became harder. “And you didn’t?” I fiddle around with the towel and makes sure it’s still secure.
“I didn't want to watch them get drunk and hit on women.”
The heat is dying down now, but it feels hotter than it should given that there’s no steam coming out. Prickles break out up all over my body. Admittedly, the dying steam has nothing to do with it and it’s all Eli's fault because he sits facing me in nothing but his boxer briefs.
I'm acutely aware that I'm naked under my towel except for my panties. My nipples have pebbled and I thank the Lord that the towel is thick and he can’t see through it.
I wipe a hand over my face to wipe away the traces of sweat,
“Why you were sitting in here with no heat?” he asks.
“I turned it down. It got pretty hot.”
“You look pretty hot.”
I can't figure out if he's paying me a compliment or commenting about the heat. I can't tell with him. Eli has always been hard to read, and the strange thing is that the more I get to know him, the harder he gets to read. Still, I don’t want to presume too much, so I assume he’s not complimenting me. Meanwhile my heart continues to hammer like crazy. I place my hands over the top of my towel, convinced that Eli has superpowers and can see through it. “I was cooling down.”
“Take a dip in the hot tub,” he says.
My brain tells me this doesn’t make sense, but we’re not talking sense here. We’re flirting, at least, I think he’s flirting with me. Again, I don’t want to presume too much. “Why don’t you go ahead and get in the hot tub, like you were about to?” I suggest.
“Do you want me to leave?”
His question surprises me. It’s a simple enough question, and while the proper answer would be to say 'yes'—the only sensible answer in this situation—I know that even if I said that, he's not going to listen to me. Eli does whatever the hell he wants to do.
“It's up to you. I can't stop you.”
“Wouldn't you rather be in here, just the two of us talking, for a change, without any interruption?”
I see a playful, flirtatious side to Eli that I've only seen a few times. He's usually so angry and so intense, and now that he's flirting with me, I can’t tell if he means it or if he finds it entertaining.
“I was going to go back to my room,” I say, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind my ear. My hand lingers on my neck, then lowers, because I feel suddenly clammy. He’s watching me. Amusement dances in his eyes and all over his stupid beautiful face. I could slap him right now for the way he's looking at me, for how he's making me feel, but if I did that, it would mean touching his skin, and knowing me, my hands would slip lower down, towards his neck and shoulders and then...
“You would really rather go back to your room?” he asks, interrupting the ridiculous running commentary in my head. I sit up straight and try to keep my wits about me.
“I have work stuff to do,” I lie.
“Gerry?”
I frown. He always mentions Gerry with disdain. “He likes you.”
This is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. “No, he doesn’t,” I exclaim. “Why would you say such a thing?” It’s ridiculous.
“He does.”
How Eli comes to this conclusion based on that one time they met at the diner is beyond me.
“He doesn’t. He looks out for me. He’s probably the only person at work who does.”
“You watch,” says Eli.
“You’re paranoid,” I throw back. He rests his back against the wall again, still appraising me slowly. His eyes run down the length of my body, and a tingly feeling spreads in my stomach.
“I’m not paranoid,” he replies. His voice just got a million times huskier. “But you seem slightly tense.”
“Me, tense? Well, I’m not.” Aroused, maybe. He
is too, I notice, because his boxer briefs are tented. It’s hard to ignore an erection that big. He must know. But he doesn’t seem embarrassed by it, and he doesn’t try to hide it. He’d need a bucket to hide something like that.
My breath turns shorter, and I squeeze my legs together.
“Good, because I'm not going to do anything.”
“Who says you were?” I ask.
“I’m not, but you look as if you’re scared I’m going to make a move on you like Callum did.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “Who?”
“Callum, the guy you left Waquito’s with. The guy you’ve seen butt naked in the locker room.”
It takes me a while to process what he’s saying. I hear an accusation in his voice, maybe even a splice of jealousy.
I frown as I recall that night, when he and Athena were reconnecting, and I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of that place. Eli was busy in conversation with his ex. “How do you know?”
“I saw you,” he replies. His voice has a hard edge to it now.
“But you were in the bar with your girlfriend.”
“My ex-girlfriend.” The emphasis is slight, but I hear it.
“She had her claws into you that night, if I remember correctly. I’m surprised she allowed you to leave her side.”
“Athena has no sway over me,” he growls. His eyes narrow, and his languid demeanor slips.
“She looked like she was glued to your side.”
“You were watching us?” he asks.
“Her desperation for you is hard to miss. It wouldn’t surprise me if you ignored your no-sex ban and took her home.” What does surprise me is that I said this out loud, but I couldn’t keep it bottled in any longer. I’ve wondered since that night if she managed to ensnare him. Eli has resolve, but in the face of such jaw-dropping femininity, and that minx and her wily ways, I don’t expect him to abstain. He’s only a man, after all.
“Did you go home with him?” he asks, not bothering to respond to my comment.
I laugh out loud because that’s insane. He’s obviously trying to rile me up, first with Gerry, and now with Callum. “You are joking, aren’t you?”
His silence tells me he isn’t.
His silence tells me that he’s been thinking the exact same thing about me as I was thinking about him and Athena.
It means he’s jealous.
It means he feels something.
For me.
This preposterous idea makes me so incredibly happy because up until now I thought it was something in my head.
“You really think Callum and I…?” The sentence is too ludicrous to finish.
“You didn’t?” he asks, as if he doesn’t believe me.
“I hardly know him!” I exclaim, trying to inject as much indignation into my voice as I can, given the highly aroused state I am in.
I’ve been thinking about nobody but Eli for as many weeks as I’ve been around him, but I steel myself so that I don't give anything away.
“You’ve seen him in the buff. Maybe you liked what you saw?” he prompts.
My heart misses a beat or four. “I’ve seen you in the buff…” But I can’t finish the sentence. I want to tell him I most definitely liked what I saw, that I want what I saw, that he makes me lose my mind, and my sensibility. But I cannot say a word. I should not say a word.
“Then what did you do, because you got into a cab together?” he asks, adding to my growing excitement, and hopes, and happiness.
“We talked on the way. I wanted to find out about your fight club days, but he was mostly talking about himself.”
“That sounds about right for Callum.”
“And then he got out, and I stayed in the cab until I got home. Why? What did you do? Last I saw, you and Athena were gazing dreamily into each other’s eyes.”
This makes him laugh. “It’s easier to extricate myself from her if I let her think we might get back together.”
“You might?”
“Hell, no. You’re not listening, Princess.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
“Princess?” he asks, and to my utter shock and delight, he scoots over and sits next to me. My displeasure at him using this term soon falls by the wayside. I’m in lust with Eli. I’m pretty sure I would do anything right now, give him anything right now, if he asked.
“What other name is more fitting for the woman who has everything?”
“Is that what you think? That I have everything?” His impression of me is warped. I understand why he’d think that though, but I had hoped he’d warmed to me given that we’ve spent a lot of time around one another.
“I have other nicknames for you,” he tells me, as I concentrate on my breathing. He exudes an animal aura that makes my brain malfunction. I’m certain it stopped working the moment he stepped in here.
I stare at him blankly.
“Don’t you want to know my nicknames for you?”
“What are they?” I ask.
“Miss Busybody, on account of your snooping around.”
“I have a job to do.”
“I know.” The corners of his mouth curve up into a smile in understanding. “And Princess is because you’re in a different league.”
I stare at him in confusion. “A different league?”
“You looked lost that first day you walked into the gym. I was sure you were allergic to the dirt and falling-apart vibe of the place.”
“Ernesto keeps it ticking over,” I reply, fondly, thinking of the man who made me feel welcome.
“He does. He’s a good man.”
I remember that first day. “I did feel lost, and you didn’t help.”
“I probably didn’t.”
“You definitely didn’t.”
“I’ve tried to be helpful,” he argues.
“And I have cherished those moments because they’ve been few and far between.”
He nods this time, as if he’s taking it in and analyzing it. “I’ve tried to block you out, Harper.”
Now he’s lost me.
“Is that why you were cold towards me when I got here yesterday?”
“You’re not listening. I thought you and Callum might have gotten a bit too friendly.”
“And that would bother you?” My elation skyrockets.
“I don’t know why it would, but it did.”
Right now I feel like a cheerleader on the winning team. I jump for joy with my imaginary pom-poms.
“I’m always after my story,” I say, attempting a laugh.
“I figured.” His voice is raspy. “I didn't mean to make you run away from the hot tub last night.”
I stare at him defiantly. “You didn’t,” I insist, even though I had to take a few breaths once I was out of the spa room. He's the epitome of relaxed seduction. His back is flat against the wood, and now he's slouching as if he’s totally relaxed. He’s confessed that he was jealous about Callum, and I don’t know what to do with what he’s just told me.
I'm sitting upright, my hands around my body, doubling up to keep the towel from falling apart. I'm on the edge of my seat, on high alert, trying to keep it together.
I want to leave, but I also don't want to leave. I'm excited, and I'm scared. I want to give in, and hold out.
I want him, and I know I can’t have him.
I'm torn.
He strokes my shoulder. I don’t flinch at his electric touch, as much as I welcome it.
“Your skin's cooled down real fast,” he murmurs. “Are you cold?”
I nod my head, because I don't trust my voice.
“Would your boyfriend mind you being in here with me?” he asks, his eyes gleaming.
“I don't have a boyfriend.” My voice doesn't seem like mine. Suddenly I’m not scared, but I don’t trust myself. The towel feels tight around my body, and the nerves from my belly down to my thighs sizzle in anticipation. My breath feels ragged, and my fingers itch to roam over his skin. I’ve had sex wh
ere I’ve faked my orgasm and couldn’t wait for it to be over with, but now I’m sitting next to Eli and I can already feel my orgasm building.
This man arouses me without even laying a finger on me.
“Then there's nothing wrong with us being in here like this.” His voice is low, and deep, and it reaches every orifice of my body.
His thumb circles around my shoulder. It's a sexy motion, and my skin responds with a rash of goosebumps. It’s a surprise move coming from him, but I am so, so, so grateful for it. I turn and look at him in order to figure out if he’s still playing with me, or being serious.
“What?” he asks, still thumbing my shoulder gently. “Want me to stop?” He sits forward and shifts his body so that he's twisted towards me.
“That depends,” I reply slowly, trying to formulate a reply, “on what you’ll do next.” I can’t believe what I’ve just said. It seems I shed my professional persona at the same time I shed my clothes.
“There’s a couple of things we could do next,” he says, and I’m too scared to look at him, or ask him to elaborate. Instead I look ahead. His fingers skate gently along my collarbone.
“I’ve wondered lately, what it might feel like to kiss you.”
My insides explode at this. My shoulders might even have sagged under the weight of his words. “Do you want me to kiss you?” he asks when I say nothing.
Every part of my body comes together like a jury, and the verdict is a unanimous yes.
I don’t manage to reply in words, as much as a weak moan.
“Is that a yes, Harper?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the magic word?”
“Now,” I reply and turn to look at him. He smiles at that and my heart takes a dive. It’s rare when he does that, but he’s got such a beautiful smile, and my panties have truly melted off my skin. “That didn't work the other day,” he reminds me.
“Please,” I say.
“That’s better, Princess.” He could call me all sorts of things right now, it’s not his words I need. He leans towards me, then brushes that same vagabond wisp of hair away from my face. “I like your hair up,” he says, then skims his thumb down my face, from my forehead, down the side of my face, to my chin.