Lost In Me (Here and Now 1)

“No apology necessary.” He runs his gaze over me and his nostrils flare. He laces a finger through one of the belt loops on my

jean skirt and tugs me close. “Even hotter in person,” he murmurs against my ear. “Did you walk through the rain just to make me crazy with wanting you?”

I bite my lip. I didn’t give thought to anything other than getting away from the party.

“What now?” the girl whines.

He nips at my earlobe—the same earlobe Nate Crane just bit—and shame rushes through me in a tremor. Max misunderstands my tremble and whispers, “Soon,” before pulling away and turning back to his client. “Other side.”

The girl whimpers. Actually whimpers. “At this rate, I’m not going to be able to walk out of here.”

“You said you wanted to be sore tomorrow.” He cuts his eyes to me and winks before returning his attention to the girl. “I aim to please.”

The girl flashes him a disappointed look, and I have to bite back my laughter. I’m sure she said that, and I’m sure she had a very different scenario in mind. I wonder if this is the first time a guy has ever turned her down.

“This is my fiancée,” Max says, wrapping an arm around my waist. “She’s just here to use the steam room.”

“I am?”

“The cleaning crew just left, so it should be good as new.” He drops his head until his mouth hovers right over my ear and whispers, “I’ll meet you in there after I lock up.”

Meet me? My heart kicks up a notch, as if I’m the one doing the lunges. “Oh…”

“Come on,” he tells the blonde. “You can go deeper than that.”

I slip past them and to the door that reads Ladies' Locker Room. Max’s gym is nice. Clean and shining, well maintained. I don’t remember working out here before, but Lizzy told me I’d become quite the gym rat in the last eleven months.

The locker room is large. One wall is covered by a mirror over three sinks. The other has a couple dozen wooden lockers. I drop my purse on the bench by the lockers and follow the hall back. There are three showers, all clean, with white towels folded on racks between them. Beyond the showers is the steam room. I hear the hiss of the steam before I see it.

I pull open the foggy glass door and am hit by a hot puff of steam. Biting my lip, I scan the tile walls, the chairs, and the two-tiered bench along the back wall. He wants me to wait in here for him. Is this something we do a lot?

I have to let out a slow breath as my imagination runs wild at the idea of waiting here naked for Max. Or better, Max joining me naked.

He’s going to expect me to have sex. I mean, of course—that only makes sense. Engaged couples have sex. I’m nervous. No, I’m terrified. No matter how many times I had sex in the last months, I don’t remember it, so I might as well still be the virgin I was at the time of my last memory.

After talking to Nate tonight, I’m not worried he’ll be bothering me or running to Max. I should be happy. My secret is safe, and I can focus on my upcoming marriage.

So why does the idea of having sex with my fiancé feel like cheating?

Pushing aside the thought, I go back to the lockers to strip out of my clothes. A towel secured under my arms, I return to the steam room and step in this time.

Sinking into a chair, I lean back and close my eyes as the heat relaxes my muscles and quiets my mind.

I drift off to sleep, and just as my dreams tug me under, my mind skates along the edge of a memory—Max and me in the gym before we started dating. I asked him to be my trainer. It’s there, a memory as clear as the ones I never lost, and I wrap myself in the comfort of it. Me. Max. No affairs. No angry rockers with broken hearts.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” someone whispers in my ear.

My muscles are so relaxed, I don’t want to move. I stretch my arms and legs, and my towel falls to my waist as I open my eyes.

“Oh, damn, Hanna.” Max stands before me, his chest bare, a towel tied around his hips. I can’t quite make out his face in the steam, but I don’t need to see his expression to know he wants me. Desire radiates off every water molecule in the room—a breath held and waiting for release.

I extend my stretch, arching my back in a move that thrusts my breasts toward him.

“Sorry it took me longer than I expected.” His voice sounds strained as he offers his hand. “I had a new client come in just as I was trying to lock up.”

I take his hand and stand, but when I reach to grab my fallen towel, he holds me fast.

“Please don’t,” he says.