Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
“Shall we go to the gym, then?”
Avery blinked. “You still want to?”
“Of course I do. Besides, I owe you a free session.” I winked at him and he gave me a sweet smile.
“Thanks, Big Mac.” My nickname on his lips gave me a thrill, and even more determination to fight for him and win him over.
Chapter Three
Avery
What the hell am I doing? The hottest, sweetest man I've ever met took me on a date, opened his heart up to me, and asked me on a second date, and I said no?
The thoughts whipped around my mind as Troy and I walked to the gym together. He was keeping an arm's length between us, and while I appreciated the respect, I hated it at the same time. I wished for him to put his hand on my back like before.
The worst part was that I knew I could have it, but I turned it down, just like I turned down a second date. I was still in shock over Troy asking for the first one, let alone another. I was just as surprised that I went to the first one. I had avoided dating altogether for so long.
I should have stayed away. I should have politely declined, and just focused on our training. But it was impossible. I was drawn to everything about Troy, and I couldn’t resist. He was the first man who ever made me rethink my stance on dating or relationships.
So I allowed myself a single taste of being with him. I told myself that once he got to know me better, his interest would wane and it wouldn’t matter anyway. But it wasn’t true. He listened to everything I had to say. He held my hand. And he opened up to me, telling me all about his family and past.
It made it nearly impossible to turn him down, but I knew it had to be done. Because there were things in my past I knew he couldn’t accept; things that had shaped me into a man he couldn’t possibly want. Though it killed me to do so, I knew I’d made the right decision. I would surely carry regret, but at least I had a night of wonderful memories to accompany it.
He used his key to unlock the front door, and he typed in a code on the security system. Entering the gym together felt strange. We were surrounded by an air of confusion and disappointment, which made me feel even worse. I wanted Troy more than he could know, but I was protecting both of us.
The air was all we were surrounded by; the gym was completely empty, as it had closed about a half an hour before. If we’d skipped our pool game, we would have run into other clients. It may have been less awkward that way, but I wouldn’t give up our game for anything. I’d never forget Troy’s impressed smile or the pride in his eyes.
Without a word, I made my way into the locker room to change into my workout clothes. I placed my duffel bag on the bench and unzipped it, groaning at what I found; I’d been so distracted and excited by the idea of seeing Troy, I packed two pairs of shorts, but no t-shirt. I rolled my eyes at myself and changed into a pair of red athletic shorts. I unbuttoned the sleeves of my dress shirt and rolled them up; it was the best I could do.
Mac gave me a strange look when I walked into the gym, so I explained with a shrug, “I forgot to bring a t-shirt. I’m a dumbass.”
“That’s definitely not true, Mr. CIA,” he replied with a wink, and some of the tension surrounding us dissipated. “Let’s get warmed up.”
He led me over to a speed bag and showed me how to use it; hitting it in small circles with both of my hands close to the bag. He said it would get my muscles loose, and get my heart rate up.
It also got my irritation level up. Every time I got going at a decent speed, my sleeves would roll down and flop over my hands. I’d groan, push them back up, and start again, but I never reached a great pace or rhythm.
After a few minutes, Troy took mercy on me and said that was enough warm up time. “Let’s review what we went over a couple of days ago,” he suggested, and raised his hands in front of his chest as he stepped before me.
I squared my hips and brought my hands up in a blocking stance. I pulled backward before punching his hand, angling my knuckles like he’d shown me.
“Don’t hold back,” he requested, nodding for me to go again.
I wasn’t trying to hold back, but my dress shirt was inhibiting my full movement. Whenever I tried to twist my hips, the tight fabric rubbed against my skin. I couldn’t use the full rotation of my shoulders.