But I like her weird shit.
She’d be easier to resist if she wasn’t so damn bizarre. It makes her who she is.
“One more,” she says for the twenty-eighth time as I continue on.
Rolling my eyes, I push the bar up, straining a little, and place it back in the holder as Maya frowns down at me.
“I said one more,” she states firmly.
We spent an extra night in the hotel, and I decided it was fine to bring her to the hotel gym with me, thinking she could run on the treadmill or something. Instead, she’s been annoying the piss out of me and acting like she’s my relentless trainer.
Should have seen that coming.
“You say one more every single time,” I answer, feeling winded. “Sort of makes it impossible to do just one more.”
“But that’s the point of exercise. It’s called torture for a reason.”
I snort, unable to help myself. “Torture is too dramatic, don’t you think?”
“Nope. You think you’re almost done, then realize you have another. And another. And another. Then the next day you’re walking like you had bow-legged sex for fifteen hours, yet orgasms were never achieved. Good things bring orgasms. Bad things bring pain. Therefore, it’s obvious exercise and torture are first cousins, at the very least.”
When I move to the free weights, she follows me, making a show of checking me out, since I abandoned the shirt early on. We’re the only two in here, so it’s not like anyone is having to see my body besides her. And she doesn’t mind looking at it.
“What if we had sex on the treadmill? Like, I could sit down on the top part, and you could run and thrust to—”
“Do you ever listen to the shit coming out of your mouth, or do you just talk until you get bored with talking?” I ask her, trying not to smile.
Never had to fight so hard not to smile as I do when I’m around her.
She grins at me. “Or we could totally do it on the pull-up thingy. I could hang there with my legs around your waist and you could—”
I cut her off when I kiss her, needing her to stop talking before I do something that will get us tossed in jail. Her damn mouth is constantly tempting me.
She sighs as I back up, smirking at how that always seems to subdue her.
Her eyes brighten like an idea lightbulb just went off behind them.
In case you haven’t noticed, she can’t be subdued for long.
“Gym selfie!” she says, confusing the hell out of me.
She turns before I can ask what the hell she’s talking about, and she leans back while bringing up her phone, snapping a picture of the two of us.
“What the hell?” I ask on an exasperated exhale.
She just grins.
“If I could post pics to social media, I totally would right now. We could look like one of those sickeningly sweet gym couples, and you could do, like, sit-ups with me on your back or something.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, so I resume working out, letting her continue to ramble all the while. We currently have an entire bag full of tiny condiment bottles for her to take back with us.
This is the girl who I can’t get out of my head.
Not sure when or how this happened.
When we finish up and leave the hotel gym, she hops on my back and takes another selfie when she reaches out in front of us. She grins against my neck as I carry her, not even questioning her anymore.
A few eyebrows rise as I step onto the elevator with a selfie-taking fiend still on my back.
She giggles against me when I purposely act like I’m about to drop her.
She doesn’t seem to notice when I tighten my hold directly after, needing her to keep her arms around me the way she is. She’s like a fucking drug.
And I must be a motherfucking junkie.
Because I can’t get her out of my system and I’m constantly taking my next hit.
Only with Maya, just breathing her in is like a damn good hit.
CHAPTER 23
MAYA
“The progress is slow. Currently we’re nothing more than an irritation in their side, but it is progress,” I tell the other Families who have me on conference call.
“We knew it wasn’t a fast game,” Ingrid tells me.
I always feel relieved when they’re not upset with the turtle-like speed of this plan.
“You have the wheels in motion, so we’re confident that at this time you should be able to return home and oversee the rest from here,” Ingrid goes on.
I could have easily returned home already, but I don’t point that out.
We’ve come so far from the kids who joked about vajazzling moments before we watched our parents die.
“And the next time they kill off all of our retrieval team, I’d have to return. It’s not easy finding guys with the skills required to pull this off, especially now that Phillip is onto the attack plan. We’re having to space out retrieval hits so the security doesn’t get too intense on his end.”