At Sea
I had this under control.
Spending that day in L.A. with Penelope had been reckless, and I’d crossed at least a dozen ethical lines, but nothing had happened. Scratch that. Nothing physical had happened. So, I was perfectly in control. Yeah, okay.
I pounded the treadmill in the gym, facing the waters of the Pacific Ocean on the morning of our second day at sea. The water was a little choppy, but I was getting used to running while feeling like the floor was rhythmically dropping out from under me as we took the waves. Today, I’d see her in class, and I’d treat her like any other student. I could do it, because, that’s right, I was fully in control. With each stride, I reminded myself just how much I had this attraction completely contained.
I hadn’t taken her to my condo.
I hadn’t held her hand in the car—only at Oak Moss Grove when we needed to fake the engagement.
Faking the engagement had been a complete necessity, so that didn’t count.
I hadn’t pulled her into my lap and held her like every one of my instincts had screamed for when Brooke wouldn’t see her.
I hadn’t pushed her for more about what had happened with her parents.
I hadn’t rubbed her neck when she rolled her shoulders after dinner.
I sure as hell hadn’t kissed her when I dropped her at her apartment, even though our past kisses had been on constant replay in my head.
So yeah, physically, I had this under control.
“Hey, Cruz,” Lindsay said as she took the treadmill next to me, setting it to a walking pace.
The best part of running in the morning was that I avoided alone time with Penelope. The worst part? Lindsay was here instead. Not that I didn’t like her. She was smart, funny, my own age, and if I read the signals right, which I always did, she was interested in me.
The best thing about Lindsay? She wasn’t my student.
The worst? She wasn’t Penelope.
“Good morning,” I said, keeping a steady pace. Four miles down, two more to go.
“Busy day?”
“Nothing too bad. Two classes, and I need to work on my excursion prep, especially for Peru. That one is three days.”
“Oh, I’m free at that port, and you’ll need another teacher for a trip that long. Want me to pitch in?” Her eyes were hopeful, and as much as I wanted to say no—I hated even the appearance of leading a woman on—she was right. I needed another professor by school policy.
“Yeah, that sounds great. Thank you.” I caught movement in the reflection of the blacked-out TV in front of me and glanced up. Penelope.
“Your accent…Spanish?” Lindsay asked.
She was with Landon Rhodes near the weight equipment.
“Cruz?” Lindsay prompted.
“Cuban,” I answered, having to think about what the question had been.
“Really?”
Penelope looked my way and then back to Landon as she settled into the triceps machine. He adjusted her weights in a way that told me without a single word how well he knew her.
“Really,” I told Lindsay, trying to stay engaged in the conversation. “I immigrated when I was nine.”
“Wow. That’s amazing. Any chance you want to show me around Havana when we’re in port?” That hopeful look was back on her face, but this time I couldn’t give her what she wanted.
“Actually, I’ll be doing a class excursion the first day, and the other day I’ll be off seeing some family. You’re welcome on the class trip, though.”
“That would be so much fun! Thank you!”
The Landon kid started doing pull-ups on the bar next to Penelope’s machine, and I subconsciously counted. By the time he hit twenty-five, he had an audience of several girls on the bikes that had Penelope rolling her eyes. I hit the sixth mile and powered down the machine.
“I’m going to hit the mat for a bit. See you later?” I said to Lindsay, and her smile told me she’d taken that last part as more of an invite than a cursory nicety. Shit.
Retreating to the mats, which were about ten feet from where Penelope was lifting, I started with pushups, losing myself in the rhythm of the movement.
“You haven’t lost too much tone, but you’ll really have to work on your biceps and delts,” Landon told her.
“Yeah, I felt that when I pulled the snowmobile back. I honestly think it was pure adrenaline fueling that move.”
“You were lucky. Don’t give me that fucking look. You were. I know you’re the best out of all of us on one of those things—hell, you’re better than I am on a bike, that’s not up for dispute—but you can’t get back into the arena without the power to manipulate the bike. It’s two hundred pounds that doesn’t give a fuck what you’ve been through.”
I made it to fifty and then hopped to my feet, my gaze locking with Penelope’s as she started the machine that would work her back muscles. Her body, which she had covered in workout pants and a tank top, was perfect. She was soft everywhere I loved and toned in places that made me want to explore… Knock that off. Student. Student. Student.
Yeah, if I said that enough, maybe I’d actually get my damn thoughts on a leash. I walked over to the pull-up bar, which happened to be right in front of where she was working out.
“Hey, Dr. Delgado,” Landon said.
“Good morning, Landon,” I answered with a wave.
“Thinking about pull-ups?” he asked.
“Sure was.”
“Right on. Go with the rhythm of the ship, and you’ll be okay. It takes some getting used to.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, facing the mirror so I didn’t have to look out over the students who had begun to fill the gym. Note to self: start coming earlier.
In the reflection of the mirror, I saw Penelope arch an eyebrow at me.
Challenge accepted.
I jumped, getting a good hold on the bar, and then started my pull-ups. My muscles easily did the task—God knew I’d spent enough time in a gym for them to function at their top capacity—and I got used to the way I felt heavier in the dips of the boat, and lighter as we came back up.
Around rep twenty-two, I made the mistake of looking at Penelope as she sat at the trapezius machine. Her mouth was softly parted, her eyes locked onto my body as I sank down and lifted my weight again. Her tongue slid along her lower lip, her own weights forgotten, and I felt a second wind of energy. I could do this all day if she looked at me like that.
I hit twenty-five and kept going.
Then our eyes locked in the mirror, and I wasn’t here on the ship. We were back in her hotel room, and I had her beneath me, the curves of her perfect ass in my hands, my tongue in her mouth, her whimpers in my ear.
I jerked my gaze away, knowing those thoughts would put me in a physical situation that would be made more than obvious by my gym shorts.
I hit thirty-five and dropped to the ground, rolling my shoulders in a stretch. Without looking at Penelope, I hit the mat closest to the door and started doing sit-ups, hoping that if I exerted myself enough, I’d sweat her out of my system.
I lost count of how many I did, but my stomach was borderline sore from the crunches when she walked by me.
She dropped down just low enough for me to hear her as I held myself in plank position. “Yes, yes. We all know you did more pull-ups than Landon. Yours is bigger.”
I collapsed on my chest, laughing as she sashayed her ass across the gym and took up the treadmill.
God, that girl was going to be the death of me.
