Fueled(book two)(35)

Goddamnit! Nothing works. Music. Incline. Speed. Fuck! I keep seeing her in the bathtub, fingers firm on my balls, eyes heated with intensity, lips telling me how exactly she deserves to be treated. What she won’t put up with from me again.

That’s a first. Someone setting parameters for me. Has hell frozen over and no one told me? She had my balls in a f*cking vice, and all I could think of was how much I wanted her. In my bed. In my office. At the track. In my life.

And not just on her back.

She must have a voodoo * or something. Reeling me up and snagging me in her hooks without realizing it. I’m just f*cking horny. That’s gotta be why my head’s all f*cked up. A week’s a long time for me to go without sex. Shit! I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a dry spell like this.

So why’d you pit stop her then the other day, dumbass? She’d have been beneath you tonight if you hadn’t. Why’d you open your mouth?

I groan in frustration at my stupidity. At my need for release that this stupid-ass treadmill is definitely not helping with.

I can’t stop rehashing the other morning. Fuck! It’s official. Rehashing shit? I’m without a doubt a goddamn chick now. I must have lost my balls somewhere in the past week.

Only chicks rehash shit, but I keep thinking about standing with her on her porch…how I was just trying to do the right thing—protect her by pushing her away from the train wreck in my head. Trying to allow her the chance to find someone else that can give her what she needs—what she deserves—but I couldn’t get the words out no matter how hard I tried. And then she stepped up and kissed me. Kissed me with such honesty and reassurance that I couldn’t breathe. All I could do was feel. The moment was too real. Too raw. Too close.

Yep. I have a *. No doubt about it now.

But f*ck if that simple taste of her didn’t make me realize I’ve been starving for so very long.

And then I knew I had to put some distance between us and the foreign feeling of need that flashed through me. The need to covet. To protect. To care for. I had to push back from the one thing I know for f*cking sure I don’t want.

Love. Love and the things required of you with it.

Crying pit stop was like crying f*cking wolf. Trying to tell myself I needed space to bring us back to the only set-up I’ll accept. Back on arrangement status. I may have used her term to soften the blow, but my only thought was if I get us back to set parameters, then I’ll be able to get the control back I felt slipping away. Regain the need to rely solely on myself.

I push a finger to the screen and wait for the treadmill to stop. I stand there, chest heaving, sweat dripping, and feeling no better for the hour of punishment I just put in. I glance out through the wall of glass at the shop down below, watching the guys finish with some engine adjustments we’d decided on yesterday before scrubbing the towel over my face and through my soaked hair.

My body feels like I’m floating a little when I hit the floor after being on the treadmill for so long. I head through the door on my left and into the bathroom that connects the gym to my office. I take a quick shower, glance in the mirror deciding to forgo the shave, and throw some shit in my hair.

Does she know how f*cked up I am? Does she have any idea what a bastard I am? How I usually take when I need to and then discard? I need to tell her. Somehow. Someway. I need to warn her of the f*cking poison inside of me.

I’m pulling my shirt over my head when it hits me what I need to get out of my funk. I walk out into my office and head straight to my desk to grab my cell to make some calls and get the ball rolling. But first I need to send her a text. Need to give her a warning the only way she’ll hear it.