His Terms

The sound of something pounding had her moving toward the stairs and gripping the banister. The wrought iron railing was cold beneath her touch. She leaned forward, looked down at the lower level, and saw a weight bench peeking out from the corner. Should she go down there, or wait for him to come to her?

“Screw it.” Sorcha moved around the banister and stepped down the stairs. The pounding noise came through even louder, more pronounced with each step she took. When she reached the bottom the view she instantly got was of Rian on a treadmill, his back toward her, and the early morning sun casting light on his broad shoulders, narrow hips, and sweat that lined his flesh. Was it humanly possible for a man to have a back that was this attractive?

He was only in a pair of loose hanging track shorts, shirtless of course, and wearing running shoes. Even though his back was toward her she saw the earbuds he wore. Watching him unobstructed, and in his element, was still unusual to her. Even after seeing him relaxed and they had slept together, it was still so strange.

“You’re up,” he said between panting breaths, but didn’t turn to look at her or stop running. He removed his earbuds and ran for another few minutes before slowing down to a walk, and then stopping altogether. For a few moments all he did was brace his hands on the treadmill handles, breathed in and out, and then grabbed the towel hanging beside him and wiped off his face.

When he turned around she took in his sweaty chest, all hard, perfect muscles. He was lean and toned, not bulky like a bodybuilder, but still very powerful. He stared at her while he dried off his chest, and she found herself watching as he moved that towel lower, took in the defined V of muscle that disappeared beneath his low hanging shorts, and then snapped her gaze up to his face again.

“You already took a shower?” His breathing was returning to normal, and even though he asked a question he turned from her and grabbed a bottle of water from the small fridge on the granite countertop. This place was set-up like a mini gym she’d find in New York. Several different pieces of workout equipment were scattered around the generous room, the same incredible view lined one wall, and he had a small kitchenette off to the side.

She nodded even though his back was to her, and then licked her lips. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep.”

He looked at her over his shoulder. “Can’t sleep without me, huh?” he said with a straight face.

She crossed her arms over her chest and breathed out. “You’re conceited.” Although he was right.

He smiled widely, ran the towel one last time over his face, and then tossed it aside.

“Yeah, I can be, but I think deep down you’re into it.”

Sorcha didn’t even give him a response to that.

“You hungry?”

She shrugged. “Kind of, but I’m not really a morning person, even when you request my presence at the office at the ass crack of dawn.”

He chuckled deeply. “How about I take you to get some breakfast at a little bakery, and then take you shopping for a gown for the party in a couple of days?”

She was a bit taken back by what he just said. “You want to take me shopping?”

“Is it hard to believe that I want to make you look nice for when I take you out?” He lifted an eyebrow.

She would have been a little girly at the prospect that he wanted her to look nice, but she knew under that saccharine intent that he didn’t want her wearing her “rags” to his high-class and rich and elegant events. “I brought some dresses that I can wear. No need for you to spend unnecessarily on me.”

He was silent for a second and then moved closer to her. The scent of his clean sweat filled her nose when he was just a few feet from her. He reached out and grabbed her around the nape, pulled her forward so she stumbled right into his chest, and claimed her mouth. For several seconds he kissed her, stroking her with his tongue, and making her taste the saltiness of his perspiration.

She grabbed his biceps, loved the heat and wetness that covered his skin, and couldn’t stop herself from moaning. She moved her hands over his chest, felt the bumps and ridges of his muscles under her palm, and continued her downward path. But before she could let her need and strength at the moment take control he was pulling away from her.

“I want to dress you up, Sorcha.” He stared at her. “I’m sure what you have is fine, perfect for the evening, too, but I want to do this.” There was this flash of something that moved across his face, covered his eyes, and made her feel … special to this man. How could being with him for such a short time make her blind to who he really was? “I want to make you look stunning, want to have everyone else know you’re mine—”