Chapter 12 Lennox
LENNOX
It had only been a few weeks, but the rhythms of this place—the sound of the creek, the scent of lavender and sage, the way the guests found moments of peace under Naima’s gentle guidance—had woven themselves into my days.
I moved through the small weight room, guiding a new set of guests through a weight resistance session.
I demonstrated squats, deadlifts, and resistance band exercises, emphasizing strength and stability.
My hands-on approach drew a few shy smiles but I knew it was necessary to truly give them the tools they needed to begin whatever fitness goals they desired once they returned home.
This wasn’t just some cushy resort gig. People came here to heal, to rebuild themselves from the inside out.
But there was no denying it—the place needed work—not even the new equipment they bought could cover that up.
The weights were outdated, the treadmills finicky, and while the retreat’s holistic approach was its charm, its financials were likely a mess.
My father wouldn’t touch this with a ten-foot pole, not with all the improvements it would need to become profitable.
And yet, the idea of handing him a bad report twisted my gut. Especially when I thought about Naima.
Not just Naima, the healer. Naima, the dreamer. Naima, the woman who had laid across my chest this morning, her breath soft against my skin, her hand tracing idle circles along my abdomen.
I finished the session, helping the last of the guests pack up their things.
I wiped down the weights, every repetition of the task pulling me deeper into my thoughts.
Back to this morning, when she had slipped from my bed, wrapped in my sheets, her skin glowing in the early light.
The way we so easily slipped into lovemaking.
Fuck.
I leaned against the cool metal of the weight rack, letting the memory of what she'd done the moment I exited my shower wash over me.
I had barely turned off the water when I felt her presence, the cool air of the room mixing with the heat of my skin.
I stepped out, and there she was—kneeling on the tile, her silk robe hanging open, her breasts full and inviting, nipples tight and dark against the cool air.
Her amethyst stone pendant rested between them, a perfect tease, the polished crystal catching the light as she looked up at me.
Her lips curled into a knowing smile, her hands already reaching for me. My dick twitched, heavy and still wet, and before I could utter a word, she leaned forward, her warm breath a promise against my skin.
Her tongue traced the length of me, a slow, deliberate lick that had my knees buckling.
I gripped the edge of the counter, watching as her lips parted, the head of my dick slipping into the wet heat of her mouth.
Inch by inch, she took me, her throat opening up, the muscles contracting around me as she swallowed me whole.
"Naima," I groaned, my voice a broken rasp.
Her nails dug into my thighs, her eyes locked on mine—dark, dangerous, so fucking seductive.
She held me there, my dick buried in her throat, her tongue pressing against the sensitive underside.
I could feel every flick, every swirl, the tight suction as she began to move, slow at first, then building, her head bobbing in a rhythm that had my chest tight, my breathing shallow.
The amethyst pendant swung with her movements, a hypnotic sway that mirrored the way her mouth worked me over. I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t think. My hands found their way into her hair, fingers threading through the thick curls, guiding her, holding her, every pull a silent plea for more.
When I warned her I was about to cum, she only sucked harder, her cheeks hollowing, the wet, obscene sounds of her mouth around me filling the room as my balls slapped against her chin.
Her tongue lapped at every drop, milking me, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until I was shaking, my thighs tensing, my grip on her hair tightening as my release hit me like a freight train.
I had to pull away, my knees damn near giving out, my dick still throbbing, my head spinning. She sat back on her heels, her lips swollen, a bead of cum at the corner of her mouth that she licked away, her smile wicked.
It wasn’t just sex with her. It was connection. Fire. Something that left me craving more, even when I was full.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to shake the heat that rose under my skin.
I couldn’t think like this. I had a job to do.
But every time I thought of the retreat, she was there.
And every time I thought of her, I wanted to do more than just think.
I wanted to lose myself in her, to fuck her until there was nothing left but us and the echoes of our pleasure.
My phone buzzed, and I pulled it from my pocket, my brother’s name lighting up the screen. I hit answer, bracing myself. “Yo.”
“Lennox.” Micah’s voice was smooth, too smooth. He always had a way of sounding like he was selling something, even when he wasn’t. “Dad’s breathing down my neck about you. Says you’re on a damn sabbatical instead of doing what he sent you to do.”
“I’m working,” I said, leaning against the wall. “It’s more complicated than I thought.”
“Complicated?” Micah’s chuckle was a low rumble. “Complicated like a woman?”
I didn’t answer, and the silence was enough.
“Damn, Lenn. You better watch yourself. You know how Dad is. He’s not gonna want to hear you’ve been... distracted.”
“I’m not distracted,” I bit out. “I’m figuring it out.”
“Sure. But if you’re not careful, whatever you’ve got going on is gonna blow up in your face. You tell her who you really are yet?”
My jaw tightened. “Not yet.”
Micah sighed, a sound that was too old for a man only a few years older than me. “Well, figure it out. You know how it goes with Dad. He’ll give you a chance until he won’t. Don’t let him shut this door on you.”
The line went dead, and I stood there, staring at the phone in my hand. Micah wasn’t wrong. My father’s patience was thin at best. And if I didn’t deliver soon, he’d pull me back to Pittsburgh, whether I was ready or not.
But how the hell was I supposed to tell Naima the truth? That I wasn’t just a fitness trainer looking for a fresh start? That I was Alan Gold’s son, the man sent here to determine if her dream was worth saving or gutting?
I slipped my phone back into my pocket, every step heavier as I made my way toward wherever she was. I had to tell her. I had to be honest. Even if it meant risking the best thing that had ever happened to me.
But as I replayed the way she had tasted that morning, the way her lips had wrapped around me, I wondered if I could really do it.
Because I didn’t just want her body. I wanted all of her. And the truth might just tear us apart.