Spring Fling (Dating Season Book 1), Page 4

  Lucy is only five years older than me, yet I feel she’s ten years ahead as far as accomplishing life goals. No wonder Austin is with her. She’s already a vice president. I just have vices.

  “I didn’t know you work out at SuperFit,” she adds.

  “Well, I don’t. My guy friend works here and is giving me a training session today.”

  Her blue eyes widen. “Your guy friend? Guy friend as in boyfriend?”

  “No, he’s not my boyfriend. Just kind of dating. It’s still really new.”

  “Are you exclusive?”

  Well, hm. That’s a great question. It hadn’t crossed my mind whether Finn is handing out rocks to other women. Are people on dating apps monogamous once you go on more than one date? The pro-tip article said couples take up to eight dates to declare themselves exclusive. I kind of figured there was an honor system here, but now I don’t know.

  “It’s still really new,” I repeat.

  This is all so strange to discuss with Lucy. We barely know each other. Finn and I barely know each other.

  Think of the devil and he’ll arrive. Finn saves me from further inquisition. “Hey, you.”

  He snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me flush for a peck on the lips. Lucy handles his lack of PDA restraint as if he just shook my hand. Of course, Austin does use handcuffs, so this is probably quite tame on her dominatrix scale.

  I introduce Lucy and then the worst thing happens.

  “I have a wild question,” she says. “Can I join your session? It’ll give me creativity for the marketing campaign.”

  “Sure,” Finn says. “You can change in the locker room.”

  “I have clothes in my car. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be back.”

  Her heels tap-tap away and I give Finn my best faux smile. I’m not keen on Lucy joining us. Mostly for selfish reasons. This was more so an opportunity to see Finn in his habitat, with flirty touches, but now, with Lucy in the mix, I’ll have to put in real effort. Well, there’s nothing to do here, except go with it. And that’s what I do when Lucy and her toned body returns. Somehow, in blue yoga pants that stop at her knees and a matching sports bra, she manages to look glamorous.

  “Let’s do this,” she says.

  We follow Finn through the rows of treadmills and stationary bikes to a semi-secluded area in the back of the gym.

  “Okay, ladies. This workout will be intense.” He rolls out two blue yoga mats. “It’ll test your endurance and strength, so it’s important to stretch properly.”

  “Sounds ominous,” I joke. Sort of.

  We sit, legs splayed, and follow Finn’s guidance. I’m not going to lie, stretching is a mini-workout for me. A mirrored wall behind Finn refuses to let me stop comparing myself to Lucy. She’s graceful as a swan as she rests her head on her knee and touches the tips of her toes. I’m a duckling who rests my head on my chest and touches my knees.

  After five minutes of loosening our limbs, Finn declares it “go time.”

  He pops up and drags a box to the middle of our space.

  “Watch me,” he says. His muscles ripple as he demonstrates how to do a two-footed jump onto it and then off, five times.

  This move is easy—for Lucy. I’ve become a faulty kangaroo. The box is just high enough to make it difficult to catch my balance.

  “Good job, babe,” Finn says, when I land the last one with a grunt. “Balls to the wall.”

  He tosses us each a red ball. Guess who doesn’t catch theirs? After I’ve retrieved mine, he shows us what this exercise involves. Like a trained athlete, he rises from a deep squat position, before racing to a line taped on the wall, soaring into the air, and slapping his ball at least a foot above it. Any other time, I’d marvel at the glimpses of skin, the impressive calf muscles, the way his gym shorts hang on his hips...that time is not now.

  I’ve been designated to go first. Even though they’ve been stretched, my legs aren’t prepared to spring out of a squat and run. In an awkward lunge, I stumble a bit and drop my ball.

  “You got this, Chloe,” Lucy says.

  Although her sportsmanship is kind, no, I really don’t. The second, third, and fourth try isn’t easier. The fifth time, I throw my ball at the wall.

  “Woo-hoo,” I say. “Hit the target.”

  Finn laughs. “Let’s go, Lucy.”

  While she slams her ball against the wall with ease, I grab a towel to mop the tsunami from my forehead while Finn’s distracted.

  “Is the air even on in here?” I mutter to myself. Exercising is making me grumpy. I’m more of a walk outdoors and enjoy the scenery kind of girl. You know, the kind of exercise I look cute doing.

  “Dumbbell snatches are next,” Finn says.

  I’m hoping that wasn’t an insult.

  Once again, we’re squatting. For masochism, ten pound weights in each hand have been added to the mix. Sweat runs in rivers down my face as I do my best to keep up. For real, where’s the air conditioning? An article I read this morning said this is a great way to be in tune with your partner. Said it promotes bonding. Mm-hmm. Sure. Grown-ups are liars. Lucy and Austin are in sync, touching their dumbbells to the floor and rising, while I’m the stray whack-a-mole popping up a few seconds too late.

  When Finn finally calls it complete, Lucy says, “I’m loving this.”

  I’m too busy catching my breath to commit murder.

  Weirdly, Finn just smiles before re-focusing on me. It’s a little surprising that he isn’t at all put off by my performance. In fact, he’s kind of like a small child wanting to show off his prowess.

  Speaking of small children, it turns out that a burpee is not me sitting on Finn’s lap while he gently caresses my back.

  “You’re kidding, right?” I ask when he completes a four part push-up move.

  Narrator: he was not kidding.

  “Show me what you’re made of, Chloe,” he responds.

  Well, it’s not sugar and spice and everything nice. More like Jell-O and spite. Lucy and I are to do these ridiculous burpees at the same time, and I’m cursing up a storm in my head when he starts chanting, “Squat. Pop. Stand. Reach.”

  Lucy’s ponytail circles like a lasso as she does the quick succession of movements. Around the halfway mark, I skip the push-up and invent a new move—the Chloe-e. I squat, clap, and then complete the rest.

  “You’re doing awesome,” Finn lies. Badly. “One more exercise and you’re done.”

  Hallelujah. As we move to the weight benches in the corner, he makes sure to show how heavy his weights are, and tells us he’s just set a new personal record for deadlifts.

  “That’s impressive,” I tell him. I mean it, too. This is hard as shit and he makes it look easy.

  When he’s occupied with spotting Lucy, I try to get my panting under control. Like my life, I have mixed success. Hands on hips, I watch as Lucy breathes through several reps, barely straining her biceps. She’s good at everything. Much too soon, she lowers the bar to its resting position with a jarring clank, and now it’s my turn. I straddle the bench parallel to the one Lucy used and lean back onto the stiff leather padding. I’m ecstatic for the chance to lie down for a few minutes.

  Finn makes adjustments to the weights, and I grip the cool metal bar.

  “On the count of three,” he says. “Lift it over your head and remember to keep your arms straight.”

  “I’m so tired.”

  “Don’t give up, Chloe. You’re so close,” Lucy says. “How badly do you want it?”

  Not much. I’m on the fence about which is worse, this workout or having the girlfriend of the guy I thought was my twin flame encouraging me. Why must she be so nice?

  “You got this. You’re stronger than you think,” Finn says, looking down on me.

  I’m sure this fiasco is the end of our journey. That article said happiness is contagious and it’s hard to walk away from happy people. Negativity is one of the biggest turn-offs. Well, the only thing I’m positive about right no
w—I am not happy. A man who does this every day must want someone like Lucy. She’s happy. She’s smiling right now.

  Regardless, I’m not one to give up. I flex and lift the bar and by the grace of God it doesn’t fall back down on me. It’s not so bad after all. Huh. I really am stronger than I think. This may be my favorite. Perhaps I was a weight lifter in another life. Perhaps we don’t end here after all. Perhaps I finally impressed Mr. Personal Record.

  When I finish the last rep, Finn winks at me. “Do you feel SuperFit?”

  “Sure.” I swing my legs off the bench.

  “This was amazing,” Lucy says, dabbing her face with a towel. “You’re a phenomenal instructor. Thanks for letting me join.”

  “Any time,” Finn says. “You did awesome.”

  She gives me a hug which only demonstrates again that I sweat and she glows, whispering, “He’s a keeper.”

  “Is he?” I’ve spent so much time trying to do everything right, that I’ve had no time to focus on whether he’s wrong for me.

  She pulls me off to the side, while Finn tidies up the space. “He put dummy weights on your bar.”

  “Dummy weights?”

  “Yeah, zero weights.” She tosses her towel over a shoulder. “I better get going and back to the office. Let’s do this again. Austin isn’t a gym person.”

  She flounces away and Finn moves in front of me.

  He holds out a bottled water. “That was a great workout.”

  “For you,” I say, with only the mildest amount of sarcasm. The very mildest. I chug the ice-cold drink and bid a fond farewell to my weightlifting dreams.

  “I can’t believe I got anything done while you were there, looking so hot. When you squatted...damn, Chloe. It was torture.”

  The fiery look in his eyes tells me he’s serious. I’m sweaty. Disheveled. Still haven’t caught my breath. And I’m walking sort of strange due to the fact that my legs aren’t exactly holding me up the way they once did, six years ago, before this workout started. I don’t even want to think about what I smell like. This is hot to him?

  “What are you doing at three o’clock?” he asks.

  “Resting?”

  “I need you at three o’clock.”

  I drain the rest of my water to stall. I like him. I do. But I have nothing left to give after this workout. It’s possible I can muster something up from within my exhausted body. He did take pity on me and switch out my weights. “What do you need me for?”

  Once again, he doesn’t tell me, he shows me by gripping my hips and snapping me against his groin. He’s hard.

  Welp. Okay. Just to make sure we’re on the same page, I whisper, “Sexy times?”

  He nods. Ah, three o’clock is the dicking hour. This is technically date three, so sex is okay, but now I have doubts. Lucy’s exclusivity question, for one. But you know, I’m not going to fixate on that. I’m an adult, so I’m going to enjoy a hot shower and let him ravage me.

  After all those burpees, I deserve this.

  Six

  Even though SuperFit was a SuperShitshow, I’m stoked for SuperSex. I’ve spent the last hour mentally preparing. Opening myself up—literally—is a tremendous step. I’ve picked apart all the possible outcomes. Nothing seems horrendous enough to prevent going through with the sexy times.

  Sure, I’d like to know Finn better on an intellectual and emotional level. But sexual compatibility is also important in a relationship. If you think about it, there must be hordes of dissatisfied women out there, faking orgasms, who wish they’d taken a test drive. So I’m willing to sacrifice my current nun-like state of grace to avoid that particular hell later. If the whole world will stop texting, that is.

  Hey, Gran! Can I call you later? I text back to my grandmother’s third message.

  IT’S IMPORTANT, CHLOE, she replies in all caps. No matter how many times I’ve tried to explain why people consider this yelling, she’s too stubborn to care.

  Is it about Ruth?

  It’s always about Ruth and their endless neighborly feud.

  YES. SHE BROUGHT LEMON PIE TO THE POTLUCK. SHE KNOWS THAT’S MY THING.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and remind myself this woman raised me, and no dick will ever trump that. Even if the dick will be here soon.

  No way! I’m sure it wasn’t as good as yours.

  IT WAS TOO TART. AND THE MERINGUE WAS FLAT. I’VE PUT THE TEN COMMANDMENTS ON OUR PROPERTY LINE TO REMIND THAT TART NOT TO COVET WHAT OTHERS HAVE. LEMON PIE IS MINE.

  You’re a badass, Gran.

  I’VE GOT TO GO. CALL ME LATER. LOVE YOU.

  Love you, too.

  Charlotte receives the next reply. From the assortment of flowers she’s sent for my opinion, I prefer the lily for her bridal bouquet. The FriendsOfFriends notifications get ignored. Since meeting Finn, I haven’t even glanced at any of the new requests. I’m a singular focused gal. Rather, I’m trying to be. The next message gives me a lurch in my belly, like I just took a plunge down a steep incline on a roller coaster.

  Austin.

  “You haven’t been around. I need my history. What do you have for me today?”

  My thumbs ache to fly across the keyboard and give him a tidbit. I fear that would be counterproductive in moving on from my unrequited crush. Right? To play devil’s advocate, we are friends. He’s unaware of the pedestal I have him on, so it’s not fair to shun him because of my issues.

  The text stares at me, waiting for my decision. I sigh. Why do the right people come along at the wrong time? So many times I’ve wondered what it would be like to be loved by Austin, but I don’t even know what real love feels like. Books and movies show what it’s supposed to be, and so far, I haven’t experienced the mythical phenomenon. It’s not his fault I have these thoughts. It’s a messy situation.

  And on that note, I reply, “Originally, tablecloths were designed as a communal napkin.”

  There. With every ounce of willpower I possess, Austin is pushed into the far recesses of my mind and barricaded, so he can’t escape to wreak havoc on my time with Finn. Lucy said Finn was a keeper, and she has Austin, so she must know something I don’t.

  The doorbell rings as I place my phone on the kitchen counter. My feet float across the hardwoods on my way to the door. When I open it, Finn reaches for me, hoisting me up as if I’m weightless.

  “Hi,” I say, wrapping my legs around his waist.

  With his warm hands supporting my ass, he walks me inside and kicks the door closed.

  “I want you so bad,” he says.

  Nose to nose, I ask, “How bad?”

  Again, he’s excellent at showing and not telling. There’s no time to give him a tour of anything, except my mouth. On a growl, he captures my bottom lip with his teeth, then slides his tongue inside. It’s all so hot. So new.

  No man has ever carried me before. I’m not even concerned whether I’m heavy. Much.

  My back thumps against the wall.

  Yesss.

  All my experiences have been in the prone position, and I exhale a breathy moan at the mere thought of wall sex. Goosebumps fan across my shoulder when he tears his lips from mine and sucks his way down my neck. With a wriggle of my knees, I inch his shorts down.

  “You ready for me, babe?”

  “Mm-hmm. Right here. Against the wall.”

  Through the thin cotton of my tank, he bites a nipple. “You’re a dirty girl, huh?”

  Maybe I am. This is uncharted territory. Finn doesn’t know me well enough to know I’m figuring myself out, so I throw caution to the wind and embellish my inner slut. “I’m filthy.”

  The low rumble in his throat voices his approval. “I knew you were going to be a wildcat when I met you.”

  Well, that’s interesting. I’m curious what vibe I exuded that made him think that about me, but his hips bump and grind all the wayward thoughts out of my head.

  “I’m going to make you purr like a kitten.”

  Not to seem picky, but I’d ha
ve preferred something more powerful. I want to roar like a lioness. But again, he does this magic trick with his tongue and that errant thought too vanishes into the ether. In the middle of another searing kiss, he spins from my happy place against the wall and deposits me on the couch. Bummer. My disappointment at the new location morphs to wide-eyed wonder as he whisks his T-shirt off…and carefully folds it.

  It’s odd he took time to do that, but a neat man is good. At least I know he isn’t likely to leave a trail of dirty laundry in every room.

  “I can’t wait to taste you.” In a flash, his greedy hands remove my shorts and panties. Precisely folded, they join his T-shirt on the end table. “Open up for me.”

  “Here?” The urge to cross my legs is stronger than Finn and his dead lifts. Even with the blinds closed, the room is too bright.

  “Yeah, babe.” His impressive cock tents the front of his shorts, and you know, who cares? Vitamin D is good for the immune system, they say. Eager to see what oral skills he possesses, I settle back in the cushions and spread.

  “Mm, fuck.” He drops between my thighs, and trails a finger along my seam. “Ah, so wet.”

  With a slow drag of his tongue, any lingering insecurities dissolve. The only thing that matters are the erotic sounds he makes as he feasts on me. There is no inch of my pussy he doesn’t explore. I brace my feet on his shoulders and ride the wave of sensations cascading throughout my body.

  As he nips and sucks, my fingers delve into his thick hair, holding him captive. At the perfect pace and pressure, he circles my clit until I’m bucking off the couch.

  “Yes, just like that.” I’ve never been with such a voracious man. Even his nose is in on the action. “Oh my God, don’t stop.”

  A sublime tingle starts in my toes and works its way up my legs, spreading all the way to the top of my head. When he slips a finger inside, the tight wire coiled in my belly unfurls until my whole body buzzes with electric currents.

  My back arches and I come all over his face.

  When the shudders subside, I’m definitely purring.

  My not-yet-recovered body is pulled to standing. From his lips come the most decadent sentence, “Taste how sweet you are.”