Chapter Seven #2
Everything inside of her seemed to hum to fierce, vibrating life. The definition of his muscles, the trail of dark hair from chest to the waistband of his pants. Her muscles already screaming, but something else fluttering to life to twist and twine with that exertion.
She had been around shirtless men since she’d joined the boxing gym, but this was somehow different. It wasn’t work or sport. It was the intimacy of a bedroom. It was a man not prepared to work but simply pulled from sleep.
And maybe, just maybe, it was just him. She didn’t know what or why, but something about the man Zervou was stoked a strange fire in her she’d never felt. Didn’t want to feel.
“There is a facility downstairs for such things,” he said, his voice low and sleep rasped. “You need not thump away.”
For a moment, she could not seem to find her voice. Her tongue felt…heavy and twisted up. Heat that had nothing to do with the exercises she’d been doing settled in her cheeks. “I woke you up.” Which was an utterly ridiculous thing to say.
“Yes. You did.”
Ari managed to clear her throat, find some semblance of herself instead of this strange woman who could not find her footing with him. “I cannot eat as we have been eating and not exercise. I have to maintain my weight. And my strength.”
“Use the gym then, Ariadne.” He turned and walked away, the play of muscles on his back as he moved their own mesmerizing dance.
She let out a careful breath, frustrated with herself for the shake in it.
Okay, so he was attractive. She’d known that before she’d seen him without his shirt. Having the actual picture of what those muscles looked like when not encased in fabric changed absolutely nothing.
Except some elemental thing inside of her. Somehow.
She shook that ridiculous thought away and abandoned her sit-ups. A run would be better. She thought clearer after a run.
So she followed him out of the room and into the grand dining area where windows showed off breathtaking views of a pastel sunrise.
Added to that was a beautiful breakfast spread already filling the table.
Which seemed impossible since she hadn’t seen or heard a hint of anyone else here besides them.
She supposed he paid handsomely for that kind of invisible service. What a life.
He plucked a piece of fruit from one plate and popped it into his mouth as he walked past, making no effort to dress or cover himself. He went over to a coffeepot, grabbed himself a mug and poured.
“I need to go for a run,” she informed him, not sure what she felt. Uncomfortable, yes, but it was more complicated than that. Like this was some strange intimacy they had certainly not earned.
He didn’t say anything at first, took a sip of the coffee instead. Then he pointed to a chair. “First, you will eat. I will have some coffee like a civilized human being. And then we will go for a run together.”
She eyed him critically. Endurance was part of boxing, and she could run for hours if she had the right preparation. “It’s clear you keep yourself fit, but I am an athlete. I’m not sure you’ll be able to keep up.”
Something in that sleepy gaze sharpened, a change that arrowed inside of her like a tuning fork. “A challenge? I accept.”
“I wasn’t…”
“Sit. Eat. One shouldn’t run on an empty stomach. An athlete should know such things.”
Yes, an athlete should. And she often did her level best to fuel her body, but there wasn’t always money, time or inclination.
But right now, in this moment, there was a huge breakfast spread, and her stomach was rumbling, even though it shouldn’t considering how much she’d eaten last night.
Still, she sat and picked out the healthier items. A bowl of fruit, some yogurt with a healthy mix of nuts and honey. She forced herself to pass on the pastries no matter how delicious they looked. She could hardly go into her next match above weight. She considered coffee but opted for water.
“No coffee?”
“I am not much of a coffee drinker.”
He made a sound of disapproval, filling his plate as he did. Then sitting down next to her despite the fact it was a large table, and he could have sat anywhere.
She pretended like she didn’t notice. “Where will we run?” she asked between bites of yogurt.
“The beach is as good a place as any. A better workout, no?”
“I suppose.”
“How long would you like to go?”
“A few miles should be sufficient. You needn’t—”
“I usually do five if I have the inclination and the beach at hand.”
Five. She studied him more carefully. Without his shirt, it was obvious he must spend some time keeping himself in shape.
It couldn’t just be running—though she imagined heavy cardio helped define the muscle tone, but there had to be some weightlifting.
Something to make those shoulders as impressive as they were.
“Is five too many?” he asked, a note to his voice akin to teasing, and when she managed to tear her gaze from his arm, she understood why.
He knew she was ogling him. She refused to be embarrassed or tried to refuse anyway, but she felt a telltale heat in her cheeks. The embarrassment she tried to ignore intensified.
She never blushed. “Five sounds good for a start,” she muttered into her yogurt.
“I will need to change.” She rose, leaving part of her breakfast untouched.
She needed to start making sacrifices to maintain weight.
Maybe after her bout next month she could go a little lax for a bit, but for now, she had to focus on who she would be for the fight.
Back in her room, she rummaged through her suitcase that wasn’t really hers, because Zervou had purchased it and filled it with the wardrobe he thought she might need.
Luckily, she had brought her own athletic wear.
She changed into shorts and a sports bra.
At home, she would have pulled a T-shirt on over it, but this was the beach. It would be hot.
And you want to show off.
With that uncomfortable thought, she grabbed a light T-shirt and threw it on before lacing up her running shoes and heading back out to the main room to meet Zervou.
He was ready, if the laced-up running shoes were anything to go by, but he still wore no shirt. He is most assuredly showing off. She couldn’t help but remember that night she’d gone to his house in Corfu and his parting shot.
The deal is not about sex. But it is hardly off the table if you should decide you’re interested.
She could not afford to be interested. It would be a risk with absolutely no reward except a few seconds of pleasure—hardly reward enough when something like chocolate cake and the heady adrenaline of a win in the boxing ring existed.
So she would not allow herself to be distracted. This was training. If he wanted to flaunt his flawless body, that was his business and had absolutely nothing to do with her.
He led her out a back door onto a patio, then downstairs onto a beach.
Farther down, she could see people with their bright umbrellas and towels crowding the sandy area, but down here there was no one but them.
Since private beaches weren’t legal by any stretch of the imagination, she could only roll her eyes at the whims of the wealthy.
“I have a route all planned out. You only need to follow me.”
So she did. And he was right. The sand offered a more strenuous workout, which she was grateful for, but having a running companion meant her usual thinking time was shot. Because instead of thinking of anything she should, she was watching the way he ran.
He might not be a professional athlete, but there was a natural athleticism to his stride. A determined intensity to his run. To his everything. It echoed in her, these strange waves of heat and want and things she had not allowed herself to ever explore.
Men were dangerous to women. Sex was dangerous for women. She had been on guard her whole life.
But what if this was a respite to all that on guard?
The idea of it, the possibility of it, caused a yearning inside her—one that she was all too familiar with. Because Ari’s life was a study in the things she wanted and couldn’t have.
Or had been.
Because Zervou was offering something else, wasn’t he? She was in Mykonos. She had dined well the past week. She had new clothes, and her mother was in a beautiful facility trying to heal.
It was a windfall of things she wanted, so why not…keep wanting and getting?
The deal is not about sex. But it is hardly off the table if you should decide you’re interested.
If she was considering this a rest from many of her obligations, knowing it would all be taken away once Zervou got what he wanted—which, luckily enough was what she wanted—why not enjoy it all? The vacations? The clothes? The money? The time not worrying about her mother or her debts?
And maybe, just maybe, these physical reactions in her body.
Maybe.