Heartbreaker (Unbreakable #1)(21)

Then once everything had calmed, he’d gotten turned on.

By me.

On top of him.

And my body had instantly responded.

Maybe it’d been the adrenaline racing through my veins. The potent thrill of danger followed by the hard cage of his muscles surrounding me, protecting me, had to have supercharged my nerve endings.

So why is the same thing happening now?

My body warmed. Began to throb in all the delicious places we had touched. And I stood a good three feet away from him.

The threat I faced had nothing to do with high cliffs and deadly gravity. It stood before me, a six-foot-two male packed with lean muscle and a dry sense of humor. Yet no matter the danger, my common sense had apparently gone on vacation. Because something deep down made me want to push the issue—be near him any way I could.

Just friends.

I’d initially started our training adventure with an ulterior motive. I figured time together would convince him that he wanted us to have sex.

Now I began to wonder if being purely platonic was for the best.

Safer.

I exhaled a slow breath, watching his profile. He hadn’t replied. I wasn’t sure if he’d heard me, since he continued to read a page that had only two short paragraphs. “So will you? Train me?”

“Won’t be easy.” He cast a hard look at me.

“Easy equals boring. Thought we established that back in the truck.”

“You sure you’re up for it? My way? My methods?”

How hard could it be? More stadium runs? Sand-bucket pushups?

I didn’t clarify, just nodded my head. “I can handle it.”

He glanced at the ground for a brief moment, then looked up at me. “Yeah, okay. I don’t have any more time in my schedule. But if you trained on your own in between, and we found a few more safe trails to run, we could get you ready.”

“Ones without loose boulders?”

He shot me an unamused look.

“I suppose I don’t have to go jumping on them. At least not without you around.”

His lips twitched as he fought a smile.

Then his eyes smoldered a bit, and I knew I had him, knew his thoughts had gone where mine had, right back to the moment we’d shared. Not the Oh my God I’m going to die one but the Holy shit! We’re lying together on the ground and don’t want to get up one.

He gave a sharp nod. “We’ll save boulder-hopping for group runs.”

“Got it.” I walked back to the larger trailhead map that was mounted under plexiglass. “What other trails are nearby?”

He pinned the trail race flier back to the memo board beside me, then pulled a folded map from a slender wooden compartment with a hinged top marked day-pass.

I plucked a small envelope from the holder, then scanned the information it requested: date, time, name, license plate number, and a note regarding a five dollar fee. There was a locked slot over a box beside the map-and-day-pass filled compartment. “Were we supposed to do one of these?”

After a pause, he glanced up. “We did. When you tore off the instant the truck hit park, I scrawled out our info. Might think about a season pass if we come here often. Save money that way.”

“How much?”

He didn’t look up from the map he was reading. Instead, he lifted the lid, handed me a fresh map, then tapped the bottom back corner of it.

Seventy bucks. I let out a low whistle. Not cheap. But more than once a month in a year would pay for itself. And I needed to train a few times a week, at least.

Finally he grabbed the pen at the top of the box, then circled a marked trail on the right side of the map. “This is the one closest to your house. Can you run before 7:00 a.m.?”

“Uhhh…” I usually slept well past 10:00 a.m. “I can set the alarm and see what happens.”

“Good. A lot of executives from the city use these trails off-hours, more of them in the morning. If you come early enough, you’ll have plenty of company for safety.”

Because on those days, I’d have to run by myself. “You can’t run then?”

His brows furrowed and he shook his head. But offered no explanation.

Right. It’s complicated.

“Here’s another nearby trail. Longer, but it’s got steady inclines and easy elevation drops. Great for building your endurance.”

On he went: explaining where I could safely go, how far each trailhead was from my house, what distance I’d need to run per day in order be ready for the race.

I squinted at the map, memorizing the few he’d indicated. “How many can you make?”

“What?”

“Runs. You promised to train me. How many runs will you be on?”

“I can train you Tuesday mornings. And Thursday and Saturday afternoons.”

I grinned. “I’ll take it.”

Not thinking twice about it, I threw my body against him, wrapped my hands around his neck, and kissed his cheek. His entire body stiffened in surprise. But then he relaxed and curved his arms around my back into a gentle hug.

We both inhaled deeply while we held each other for those brief seconds, as if savoring another stolen moment. One where we didn’t have an agreement to be just friends. One that didn’t have my fears and his complications. One that ignored the fact that we’d already begun to blur the lines between what we couldn’t have and what we wanted.