Chapter Fourteen
Orion
I’ve been here for hours, burning through reps, pushing heavier, faster, harder.
Because last night?
Last night, Tammy decided to show up at my place with her bullshit again.
Accusing me of cheating. Of moving on too fast.
Like she wasn’t the one who fucked someone else behind my back.
Crazy. Fucking. Bitch.
I ignore the latest string of texts lighting up my phone, focus on the weight in my hands, the tension in my muscles, the steady burn that drowns out the noise in my head.
Then, she walks in.
And just like that, I lose count of my reps.
She’s small. Delicate. Wrapped in pink like she’s some kind of gift.
Long, soft blonde curls. Big, wide eyes.
She moves like she knows every damn man in here is going to watch her.
And we do.
I do.
Not in the obvious way. Not in the way the other guys do, with their tongues practically hanging out, their gazes lingering on her ass when she walks by.
No.
I just notice.
The way her body moves, the way her hips sway, the way her ass is definitely not covered enough by those leggings.
She doesn’t look at me.
She stops at the front counter, setting her pretty little bag down, and says something to the trainer.
She laughs.
A sweet, soft tinkle of a laugh.
Fuck.
I keep lifting.
Eyes on the barbell.
Not on her curves.
Not on the way her lips move, all pink and glossy, like they’d feel fucking sinful wrapped around my cock.
Jesus.
I exhale through my nose, rolling my shoulders back, refocusing.
Until she touches him.
Not me.
Him.
She sets her delicate little hand on the trainer’s arm, fingers curling around his bicep like she’s testing the size of it, and my grip on the bar tightens.
Then she reaches into her gym bag.
And pulls out a cupcake.
A cupcake.
I stop mid-rep.
That tiny little thing carries cupcakes in her gym bag?
What the actual fuck?
The trainer grins, taking it from her, peeling back the wrapper.
She beams up at him, all warm and sweet, like she’s delighting in feeding him.
That little thing is too fucking sweet.
She’s gonna get eaten alive in a place like this.
And I don’t mean by them.
I mean by me.
Because if she ever looks at me like that, if she ever offers me something from her soft, delicate hands, smiling up at me like I’m someone worth impressing, I’m gonna ruin her.
I set the weight down, slower than I should, roll out my wrists, shake off the tension creeping into my shoulders.
I need a cold fucking shower.
Instead, I grab my towel, wipe the sweat from my neck, and head for the water station.
Because I need to get closer.
Just a little closer.
She spots me.
And smiles.
Like I’m someone she wants to see.
Like she didn’t just crash into my life last night and take up real estate in my head.
She walks straight over, all soft curves and vanilla, same scent as before, like she just carries it with her, like the air around her is sweet by default.
I swear I can almost hear her gasping my name.
Orion.
Fuck.
I shove that thought down.
“Orion, hi,” she says, bright, easy. Like we’re old friends. Like she didn’t just meet me less than twenty-four hours ago. “Thanks again for last night.”
The way she says my name, soft and familiar, like it already belongs to her, makes something coil tight in my stomach.
I nod. “No problem.”
She shifts the bag higher on her shoulder, all delicate fingers and effortless movement. “You like sweets?”
I raise a brow. “Sweets?”
She giggles. A soft little sound that shouldn’t make my chest feel warm.
“I made cupcakes for a party at work,” she explains, unzipping her bag, “And there were leftovers. So I figured I’d bring them here. You know, post-workout sugar. Or is it pre-workout sugar? I don’t know. I only do yoga, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”
Yoga.
Bendy.
Nice.
“I like sweets,” I say, watching her dig through the bag.
She bites her lip, pretending to think. “Okay, I have options,” she says, lifting a delicate hand to count them off. “Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry… or red velvet.”
She bites her lip.
Like this is some big decision.
Like she’s not already got me hanging on her next words.
I pretend to consider, rolling my shoulders back, letting my gaze drag over her just a little longer than necessary.
“Red velvet,” I say. “Or chocolate.”
Her lips curl. “Oh, my favorites.”
Of course they are.
She pulls out a red velvet first, peels the wrapper with careful little fingers. Hands it to me.
I should just take it. I should eat it. I should not be looking at her mouth while she waits for me to bite into it, like she’s about to taste it through me.
But I do.
And I swear to God, she sighs.
Like this is intimate.
Like this is foreplay.
The cupcake is good. Fucking great, actually. But the way she watches me eat it?
It’s ruinous.
Then, before I even finish, she pulls out a chocolate one, except this time, she doesn’t hand it to me.
She peels the wrapper and holds it up.
Waits.
I should stop this. I should.
I don’t.
I let her feed me.
And when my lips brush her fingers, just barely, her eyes go wide.
Jesus.
Then she licks the frosting off her thumb.
And I am done for.
My entire fucking body reacts. Like she just reached into my chest and yanked something loose.
I swallow slow.
Watch her.
Wonder if she actually knows what she’s doing to me.
Or if this is just who she is.
Soft. Sweet. Dangerous.
I should walk away.
I should end this right here.
Instead, I take the rest of the cupcake from her hand, peel another bite free and feed it to her.
Her lips part in surprise, but she lets me do it.
And when she closes her mouth around the bite, when her tongue just barely brushes the tip of my finger?
It’s over.
I want her.
And I’m gonna ruin her.
“How long is your yoga class?” I ask.
I shouldn’t.
I should not be doing this.
But this girl, fuck, this girl.
She’s looking at me like I matter. Like I’m interesting. Like I’m not just some guy with broad shoulders and a security badge.
Like she picked me.
She tilts her head, fingers still sticky from the cupcake she fed me. Fed me.
“I don’t know,” she says. “Depends why you’re asking.”
Oh.
Oh, she’s fucking dangerous.
She knows.
And she likes it.
“You want to get out of here?” I ask.
I should not be doing this. I know better.
Already got one nutjob on my hands, and now I’m really about to…
“Yes,” she says.
Yes.
Just like that.
Like she was waiting for me to ask.
Last night, she made me her protector. And tonight?
“Follow me?” I ask.
She hesitates. Her fingers curl slightly, like she’s weighing this, running through the risks in her head. That’s good. That’s smart.
I should give her an out.
I don’t.
“Where to?” she asks.
Now she looks a little concerned.
That’s probably wise.
I exhale slowly, eyes flicking toward the front doors, the parking lot.
She trusts me. She shouldn’t, but she does.
And that? That makes something shift in my chest.
“I won’t bite,” I say, then let my gaze drop over her body, slow, deliberate.
Unless you ask me to.
Her breath catches.
Jesus Christ.
I don’t wait for her to change her mind.
I brush my hand lightly, just lightly, over the small of her back as I turn, walking toward the exit.
One second. Two.
Then?
I hear the quiet click of her shoes against the floor as she follows me.
That’s it.
I have her now.
And I don’t think I’m letting go.
Outside she follows me to my truck.
“Take a drive?” I ask and unlock the doors.
“Sure.” Juliet slips into the passenger seat of my truck without a second thought.
Like she knew I’d ask.
Like she’s been waiting for this.
She tucks her little pink bag between us, folds her hands on top of it, and tilts her head. “Where are we going?”
I should have a plan. I don’t.
But when I look at her, golden hair catching the glow of the streetlights, I want to take her somewhere quiet.
Somewhere I can figure out what the hell I’m doing.
“Thought we’d drive out past the ridge,” I say, shifting into reverse. “Eat cupcakes. Look at the stars.”
She smiles. Slow. Sweet. “That sounds perfect.”
And fuck, so does she.
I ease us out of the lot, rolling onto the highway, keeping one hand loose on the wheel.
Juliet is quiet for the first few miles, watching the dark landscape pass outside the window. But I feel her looking at me, little flickers of attention, her gaze dragging over my arms, my hands, the slow shift of my fingers against the gear shift.
It should make me cocky.
Instead, it makes my pulse kick up.
This girl, this soft, sweet, way-too-damn-pretty girl, is looking at me like I’m something worth watching.
Like she’s learning me.
I clear my throat. “So, uh… what’s your deal?”
Her lips twitch, like she expected that question. “My deal?”
“Yeah. You just… show up at the gym with cupcakes, wander around campus needing security to walk you to your car…” I slide her a look. “You’re kind of an enigma, sweetheart.”
She giggles. Fucking giggles.
Like I’m cute.
Like I’m the one who should be worried about her.
“I just like making people happy,” she says. “And it’s so easy with men. A little sugar, a little softness, and you’re all putty.”
I should be insulted. I’m not.
Because she is sugar. She is soft. And yeah, maybe I am putty.
At least where she’s concerned.
I don’t respond. Just shake my head, fighting a smile as I make the turn onto the old ridge road.
She hums. “So, what’s your deal?”
I blow out a breath, adjusting my grip on the wheel. “What do you want to know?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Everything.”
Fuck.
I don’t answer right away.
Not because I don’t want to tell her.
But because… I think I might.
And that’s dangerous.
But before I can figure out what to say, the trees break around us, the road leveling out into open land, nothing but hills and stars ahead.
This spot, this quiet, empty stretch of nothing, has always been mine.
And now?
I’m sharing it with her.
I pull off to the side, kill the engine, and hop out.
Juliet follows, her breath a soft little cloud in the cool night air as I drop the tailgate.
I grab her bag with the cupcakes, then lean against the truck bed, peeling the wrapper off another red velvet.
She watches me, smiling.
I shake my head. “What?”
She hops up onto the tailgate, swinging her legs. “Nothing.”
Bullshit.
I arch a brow.
She sighs, tucking her hands between her knees. “It’s just…” Her head tilts, eyes softening. “You’re not as scary as you look.”
I huff a laugh. “Should I be offended?”
She grins. “Not at all.”
And fuck me, this girl is trouble.
Because for the first time in a long time, I don’t want to be scary.
I want to be interesting.
I want to be hers.