Blindsided (Fake Boyfriend 4)

“It may’ve taken me a while to work it out, but you want to know what all those women had in common?”

“They’d do anything for you because you’re Marcus Talon?”

Talon playfully slaps the side of my head. “You, you moron. They were all a means to get to you. I got to have you through them, and it’s taken me this long to figure that out. Girls came and went, but you’ve always been there.”

A lump lodges in my throat. “What happens when your attention span runs out?”

“Aww. You think I’m gonna get bored of you?”

I shrug. Isn’t that what he said always happens?

“Would a threesome with your PT be hot? Hell yeah, it would be. But you’ve already said that’s a hard line for you, and Shane”—Talon pierces me with his blue eyes—“I don’t need anyone else. I used to think I did, but that was only because I’d never been with the right person.”

The right person. I’m the right person?

“I don’t need anyone else either,” I whisper.

Talon grins. “Good. Then it’s settled.”

I nod. “Settled.”

“Now, get on the ground and give me a hundred crunches.”

“I hate you.” Yet I do as he says.

Talon positions himself at my feet and runs his hands up my legs and rests them on my knees as he leans forward. “No, you don’t. You want me to be your boyyyfriend. Because you liiike me. You want to—”

The door to the gym opens, and a couple of guys step through.

Talon leans back on his heels and drops his hands from me, and while I know it has to be done for obvious reasons, I still hate it anyway. It’s not Talon’s fault, but it sucks.

As soon as the guys see us, their faces light up in recognition, but they don’t say anything. I do feel their constant staring, though. It feels like we’re on display.

Talon and I remain professional after that until I’m exhausted, sweaty, and just want to collapse in a heap on the floor.

“Guess we should call it,” Talon says after what feels like hours. I look at the clock on the wall and realize it was only an hour. Fuck, I really am unfit. I blame Mom’s cooking. I knew that would be my downfall.

Talon leans in and lowers his voice. “We can go upstairs and finish our workout up there.”

“What kind of workout can we do up—”

Talon raises that cocky eyebrow at me.

“Oh.”

He stands and helps me off the floor, and we can’t make it out of the gym fast enough.

Chapter Nineteen

TALON

When I let Miller into my apartment, he looks around the place in confusion. Granted, it has wide windows with a nice view of New York Harbor, but the place is small and not up to my usual standard of living. The furniture which came with the place is dated, and the tiling is covered in mismatched rugs to take the cold out of the floor.

“When you said you’d come to New York, I figured you meant you’d stay in Manhattan and somewhere fancy. This is …”

“This is fine,” I say. “I figured it would be better if we were close by. All we’re going to be doing for the next few months is training, so it makes sense that we’re not far apart.”

“I know we talked about possibly going somewhere to do this, but Mom’s gone all momma bear on me since coming home. Plus, with Vanessa going through a messy breakup, Mom asked if I could stay and help with Gabby occasionally.”

“I’m perfectly fine with it. As long as you’re getting the treatment you need and you’ll be back on that field next season, I’ll go wherever you need me to.”

Miller’s lips turn into a thin line as if he already believes he’s a lost cause. He’s allowed to be skeptical because his entire career is on the line, but I’m not going to give up until the doctors say otherwise, and if he needs me to be that guy for him, then I will be.

“Want a shower?” I ask.

“Like, together?”

I step closer. “Well, I was gonna say to get out of your sweaty clothes, but together works.” The little laugh that escapes me has a nervous quiver to it.

“We don’t need to do anything you’re not—”

I stop him right there. “I thought we went over this that night in your hotel room. No more kid gloves. I know what I’m doing … okay, well I don’t know-know, but I want to learn, and I’m not going to freak out.”

“It’d make me feel better if we went slow.”

“Slow, slow, as in you don’t want to do anything or slow as in …” Wait, what other kinds of slow are there?

Miller closes the distance between us, pressing against me chest to chest. I don’t even care he’s sweating all over me.