The Regret (Heartache #2)

by Green, Vicki

  Now, it doesn’t bother me as much, feeling a little more comfortable in my surroundings. I flip on the lights as I walk and go right into the women’s locker room and to my private locker. Storing my helmet inside and once I’ve removed my iPod from my bag, I place my bag inside the locker and clamp the combination lock into place and head out of the room to go upstairs. I always start out on the treadmill walking to loosen up my body before going into a jog then a full run. Placing the buds in my ears, I turn on my iPod and start the machine. There’s something about being here alone, filling my head with nothing but my music and getting lost in working out. Tranquil. Serene. The only place I feel like I can get some peace.

  I become lost in the music, lost in the beat of my feet as they jog then move into a fast run. My heart rate is rapid, my adrenaline flowing. Since we usually open the front door of the gym at six and I like to shower before we open, I don’t normally have much time to workout in the morning. I am happy we are opening later today because I need this. I keep up my pace, sweat beading on my forehead, my upper lip, and a light sheen on my body as I keep moving, burning off what’s left of the alcohol in my body. After a while, I look up at the clock and lean forward, pushing the button to slow the treadmill down a notch and move to a jog, ready to get my heart rate down. Time ticks away until I’ve slowed down to a walk then shut off the machine. I quickly walk to the stairs then once in the locker room, I grab a towel and take a much needed shower. By the time I’m done and dressed in a clean pair of shorts and a fresh half t-shirt with the Battle Ground emblem stitched into the fabric over my heart, I stuff my dirty clothes into my bag, pick it up, grab my helmet, and clasp the lock shut on my locker.

  Feeling refreshed yet still having a slight headache, I walk out of the locker room and head towards the back door, feeling weird that we’re not opening until noon today. I relish my time here, keeping my mind occupied with other things instead of my past. I guess I could go home and clean, make something to eat. I am a little hungry. That should keep me busy until I need to come back and open for the day. I flip off the same lights that weren’t on when I got here, walking down the small hall towards the back door. Feeling relieved that it’s lighter outside, I open the back door.

  “Omph!” I gasp and sputter as I walk right into something hard. Fear overtakes me, and I open my mouth to scream when a hand covers it. Someone pushes me back inside until my back hits a wall, my helmet and bag crashing to the floor with a loud BANG. With my heart is pounding wildly against my chest, and my hands grasping their arms tightly, trying to push them away, I’m ready to fight, kick, and hit, until I look up at my assailant.

  “Shhh. It’s just me,” Tanner whispers. Why he’s whispering when we’re the only people in the building? I struggle in his hold, digging my fingernails into the flesh of his arms. He presses up against me, and I can feel his length against my stomach. Hard. Big. Shit! I try struggling again, but it’s no use against his strength. I’m panting with exertion and can see his muscles flexing in his arms as he presses against me harder. “Stop moving. I’m not gonna hurt you, Jolie.” I watch his eyes move down my body until he looks at where we’re pressed together.

  “Then. Let. Me. Go,” I growl.

  His eyes move back up my body then glare into mine. I can’t deny he’s sexy as hell with his colored tattoos and piercings – one piercing placed evenly between his lower lip and the top of his goatee and then the small barbells which are pierced through his nipples that I can see through his tight shirt. Shit! Shit! I feel my own nipples harden and wetness brewing between my legs. He notices my internal struggle, and the corner of his mouth raises. Fucker! “Will you not scream or come at me if I let you go?” God, he’s starting to piss me off. I nod, but he still takes a minute or two before he relaxes his hold. As he takes a step back I spring into action. I ram my arm up against his throat, my leg moving between his. With the element of surprise, he moves backwards against the wall across from me. I push my arm against his throat harder and his eyes widen, my knee connecting with his hardened cock.

  “Don’t ever do that again,” I snarl. Point for me!

  My eyes move back and forth as his arms move up on either side of me, his hands reaching up in surrender. I look in his dark brown eyes, so dark they’re near black, the silence filling around us except for our heavy breathing. “My bad,” he breathes and then grabs my right arm, twisting it until I have no choice but to turn around. He pulls me back against him with my arm behind me. His free arm wraps around my waist. With my free hand, I grab his arm and try pulling it off me to no avail. I feel his warm breath against my ear and shift my eyes to try to see him. “I’m sorry I scared you. I covered your mouth and pushed you inside so you wouldn’t scream and make anyone around think I was trying to hurt you,” he whispers in my ear. I can feel his hardened length against my lower back and close my eyes, hating myself for how much I love the feel. Dammit. His hold on me tightens, not uncomfortably. His hand holding my arm behind me isn’t so rough that it hurts. It would take more than this to hurt me, you fool.

  “Maybe I wouldn’t have screamed,” I say in between pants.

  He presses into me, and I open my eyes. “Your mouth was open and you took a deep breath. You were gonna scream.”

  He presses into me again, and my body betrays me by growing wetter. God, I hate that he has this effect on me. I squeeze his arm harder. “You can let me go now,” I say gritting my teeth. We stay like this for what seems like too long, although I know it’s only a couple of minutes. He releases me and I turn around quickly, shaking out my right arm and on alert. Finally, I cross my arms over my chest, careful to cover up my hard nipples. “What are you doing here? You know we don’t open today until noon.”

  He leans back against the wall across from me, crossing his large arms over his broad chest and crossing one ankle over the other. Relaxed. Self-assured. His mouth turns into a cocky grin. “What are you doing here?” I let out a huff and lean back against the wall behind me and tilt my head.

  “I asked you first.” I sneer. How can he be so casual after scaring the bejesus outta me? Does he not care that he did that, that he was pressed against me so firmly? Does he have no shame?

  He looks down, letting out a laugh as he shakes his head, then looks up from underneath his long, dark lashes. “Always have to be the winner. Always have to get in the last question or dig.”

  I roll my eyes. What an asshole! “I can say the same for you.” My arms tighten around me, the look in his eyes playing havoc with my body. Damn traitorous body! After all these years, after everything you’ve gone through, how can you react this way? Something must be wrong with me. I must be more broken than I’d thought. I thought I’d healed as much as I could since I’d gotten free. He laughs, and I have to cross my legs quickly. Shit! That low rumble in his voice just about sent me over the edge.

  “Fair enough. I give. You win.” His hands move up into surrender as he laughs again. “I just came to work out.” His brows lower. “Now, what about you?”

  He gave in so I guess I should. “Me too.”

  He stands up from the wall and takes a step towards me. Too close. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He leans in. I can feel his warm breath against my face. Minty. He looks down into my eyes, and I swallow hard. What is he doing to me? His eyes search mine and then suddenly, he steps away and starts down the hall. “I’ll see you at noon,” he yells, a smile in his voice, and I watch until he turns the corner and out of my sight.

  I tilt my head up against the wall, closing my eyes, and feel how sweaty the palms of my hands are, my body trembling slightly. Shit! I’m in so much trouble. After collecting myself, I lean down and pick up my helmet and bag, open the back door and slam it shut hard. Quickly walking to my bike, I put my helmet on and secure it. Angrily raising my leg, I straddle the seat, and dig in my pocket for the key. I open the small container beh
ind my seat and shove my bag inside. After turning around, I jam the key into the starter and rev up my bike. I back out of the space, turn the wheel, and start out of the parking lot, loving the feel of the cool breeze blowing against my overheated body. My mind keeps repeating everything that happened, and I become angrier and angrier. He has no idea just how hard I can fight. I will win this little game he’s playing!

  Chapter 3

  As soon as I turn the corner, I back up and hit the wall, not able to catch my breath. What in the hell am I doing? I listen as she walks out the back door and slams it behind her. You’re playing with fire. My breathing still coming out in pants, my hand self-consciously moves over my heart. You’ll end up hurting her, damaging her more than she already is. I make a fist and hit the wall by my side. I know all this, dammit! Then why can’t I stop? Because you want her. Because you need her. “Fuck!” I scream and push off the wall, turn and slam my fist into it. I wince as I hear small cracking sounds and pull my hand up, seeing the skin over my knuckles split open, blood seeping out. I feel the rush of pain letting me know I’m still alive, still breathing and feeling. You came here to protect her, not stalk her, and not fall for her. I’d already fallen for her so long ago. Another time. Another place. But you failed her. You didn’t protect her. I jog towards the locker room, grab my iPod from my locker and run to the stairs. “I know!” I yell out into the empty space, as I run up the steps and turn at the top, not stopping until I’ve reached the weights area. I want to, no need to, hit the punching bag but with my hurt hand there’s no way I can do that now. Idiot! I pass through the area and into the men’s bathroom, straight to the sink, turning on the cold water. Shoving my hand underneath the spray, I wince as the pain latches onto me. Serves you right for being so reckless. So stupid!

  Once I’ve cleaned the cuts thoroughly, I grab some paper towels and blot my knuckles dry. I head to the cabinet on the wall, open it and take out some gauze and medical tape then proceed to wrap my hand. I look up at my reflection in the mirror and snarl at myself. You’re not just hurting yourself. You’ll end up breaking her again. “Shut up!” I finish taping up my hand and put everything pack in the cabinet. I guess I’ll have to settle for the treadmill today or maybe another piece of equipment. Maybe running my ass off will help. Probably not. I decide to run the track instead. After putting my iPod buds in my ears, I proceed to the track, do some stretching, and start running. There’s nothing like getting lost in the music while you pound the pavement, beating your body to exhaustion and feeling the pump.

  My body is a massive state of sweat by the time I’m done yet I feel amazing. I take my shower, grab my bag and lock up the gym, then head home. Now, what am I gonna do until we open? I hate being idle. Too much time to think. I haven’t been to the grocery store for way too long so I end up stopping there and stocking up on various things. I needed all the basics, which included coffee, milk, bread, eggs, and then I got a ton of healthy foods. Five bags later, I heft all of them to my apartment. I shouldn’t have waited so long, but I hate grocery shopping. After unloading everything, I make another decision. I leave my apartment and walk next door, hesitating when I raise my hand to knock. Will she open the door or see it’s me through the peephole and decide against it? Hell with it! Before I change my mind, I knock quickly. I wait and wait, not hearing anything from inside. Turning around, I look out the big overhead window at the front of the building and see her motorcycle. Hmmm. I knock again then press my ear to the door. Stalker. Still leaning against the door with my ear on the wood, I raise my hand again to knock only to have the door suddenly open, and I fall inside and onto the floor.

  “Oomph!”

  I land on my arm. Shit that smarted! I look up, my eyes first landing on bare feet with manicured toenails painted in black. I scan up the creamiest legs until I see short jean shorts, frayed at the bottom. My eyes move over a flat uncovered stomach and a belly piercing with a small black stone daintily hanging from a thin wire. I lick my lips. Damn.

  “Are you done perusing my body?”

  “Not yet,” I mumble as my eyes move up to a half shirt, also frayed at the ends. Her arms are crossed underneath her breasts, raising them. God, I wish I could see those uncovered, feel the weight of them in my hands. The top is low cut, showing her abundance of cleavage. Shit, I’m in trouble. I look up further to her small chin, those full lips, and very, very angry dark blue eyes.

  “Well, I’m done,” she says as she leans down, giving me an even better look at the swell of her breasts, and grabs my arm, tugging me. I concede and get up, only because I’m hungry. “What the hell are you doing here? Other than ogling me.” She starts tapping her foot on the wood floor. Damn, she’s freaking hot.

  I run my hand through my hair, nervousness suddenly taking over. Shit, what am I nervous about? Because you weren’t strong enough before. I stand up straighter, determination hits me hard. I’m stronger now, dammit! “I thought I’d be nice and invite you over for breakfast. I make a mean healthy omelet.” Her eyes glare into mine, her foot stops tapping. “Come on. You gotta eat and it’s not like you have to go far.” I give her my cocky grin. She turns her head, looking into her kitchen, and then back at me. “You haven’t eaten yet, right?”

  “No, but I don’t eat break….”

  I turn and open the door, not letting her finish. “Good. Then it’s settled.” I’m not taking no for an answer. No way. She looks a bit nervous. I watch as she pulls her lower lip into her mouth. Lucky lip. I let out a sigh. “C’mon, Jolie. We work together, have the same friends.” Her brows raise. “It’s just an omelet not a marriage proposal.” I cock a brow and give her a smirk. She rolls her eyes, grabs her keys from a table by the door and walks past me. My heart is lodged in my throat as I close her door and take a step back, watching her lock all the locks.

  She’s still scared. It’s my fault.

  She finishes with all the locks, turns and walks towards my apartment in total silence except for the soft pads of her bare feet on the well-worn carpet. She stops at my door and steps aside. I open it and let her walk in before me. She stops inside the door, looking around my living room, the only difference is the furniture. Same color walls, same ugly wood floor that needs to be refinished desperately. I walk past her and into the kitchen, grinning when I hear her following me. “So, I have egg whites, made to order, wheat toast, turkey bacon, and nonfat yogurt with granola.” I reach the counter, turn around and raise one of my eyebrows. She walks to a barstool and sits, leaning her arms on the breakfast bar counter, and shrugs.

  “I guess I could eat a few egg whites, with a side of toast, and some of that turkey bacon.” Not hungry, my ass. I wrap my arm around my waist and bow in playfulness.

  “Your wish is my command, my lady.” I freeze as her eyes widen. Shit! Her body stiffens as she sits up straight.

  “Why … Why would you say that?” she asks tilting her head.

  “Your wish is my command, M’lady.” Her giggles are music to my ears.

  Stupid! Stupid! You’re so stupid! I try to recover quickly and stand up, turning and getting out the mixed up egg whites that I’d prepared from the fridge. I laugh, nervously. “I was just clowning around. Geez.” I hope it works. I hope I played it off. I hear her let out a sigh as I pour the eggs into the saucepan. Opening the fridge door, I grab the carton of orange juice, shift and hold it up, silently asking if she wants some. In my relief, she nods, so I pour two glasses full and take them over to the breakfast bar. I hold the one out to her in my right hand. Her eyes grow wide again, and she gasps as she takes the glass.

  “Tanner! What happened to your hand?” She slides off her chair, sets her glass down, and walks around the counter to me. I turn in time for her to take my hand in hers. She peels a corner of the bandage, lifting it up. “Oh, my God!” Her eyes move up to mine. “Where’s your first aid kit?” I can’t seem to move, or speak. Her
touch has me immobile, and her concern has me speechless.

  “Let me do it. I can do it myself,” she barks as she winces in pain.

  “Tanner?”

  I shake my head from my thoughts and focus back on her eyes. “It’s okay. I took care of it already.” She pulls more of the bandage off, looking down in concern.

  “Well, it’s a half assed job at best.” Her eyes move up to mine. “Go get your kit and I’ll take care of the eggs.” I don’t move, still mesmerized by her concern. “Go. Please?” Her touch is tender, soft, but it’s her voice that started out a little rough from concern that turned into pleading that shakes me free from my trance. I nod, still not able to speak, and walk out of the room to get the first aid kit from the hall bathroom. A headache is beginning in my temples. This is too much. What started out as a breakfast to break the ice and show her I can be just a friend has turned into something else. Memories. Feelings. The desirable urge to take her in my arms and kiss the shit outta her, it’s almost too much. Once I’ve gotten the kit, I walk back into the kitchen. I stop as I walk through the doorway, my heart beating a mile a minute. I watch her move around, putting eggs on the plates, taking the bacon from the skillet and putting two each on our plates. Leaning against the door frame, I continue to watch, captured by the silky skin on her arms, her legs, entranced in the way her firm ass sways with her movements.

  “If you want you can take a picture, then you can stare at it while I fix up your hand.”

  I swallow hard as I stand up straight. She turns and carries the food over to the breakfast bar then leans against it, giving me her smirk. She eyes the kit and holds out her hand. I don’t argue, still not sure I can speak. She gives me a look and points to a stool. I do what I’m told, silently. I sit down and place my hand on the breakfast bar, away from the food. I would never admit it, but it hurts pretty badly. I watch her face as she removes my half-assed bandage job, her nose scrunching up in the cutest way.