I curse mentally. I'm meeting Hailey for dinner tonight and our reservation is set for 8:30. I was really hoping to get a workout in before we gorged ourselves at the new Italian restaurant but now that it's so late, I'll probably only have enough time for a quick run.
I clean up my desk and pack my bag, grumbling to myself the entire time. I decide to head down to the gym in the basement to get a treadmill run in before I go home to get ready.
My four miles fly by quickly. I think females have decent cardio to begin with but couple that with my workouts at the MMA gym and my weekly runs, and I'm in the best shape I’ve ever been in. Even as a teenager, I preferred to be strong and healthy. MMA was the perfect sport for me in that sense.
The physical exercise puts me in a happy mood. Although today's been an uneventful, decent day to begin with, a rush of endorphins always puts me in a great mood. I typically cool down with stretching that doubles as meditation, but I don't quite have enough time for that today. Instead, I grab my stuff, throw on my hoodie, and call an Uber as I walk outside. Fifteen minutes later I'm already walking into the house.
I see Tristan standing in the kitchen as soon as I open the door. He's got an empty plate in front of him and he's holding a half-empty water bottle in his hand. But after one glance at him it takes everything in me not to let my jaw physically drop to the floor.
I can’t decide which I want to focus on first: the black suit pants that are tight enough to showcase his strong thighs and grabbable ass, or the white button-up shirt that’s stretched across his massive chest and rolled up to his elbows to expose his muscular forearms.
He is... heart-stoppingly sexy.
It takes me a second to figure out why he's dressed up. I heard Jax mention a few times that Tristan will occasionally work a nighttime security shift, but I never really considered what that would look like. Although now that I think about it, security guards do typically dress like he is now.
I just tend to picture them as fat old men—not stunning young sex gods.
I internally shake my head to clear my traitorous thoughts. I force myself to remember how furious he made me yesterday with his stupid games, and how frustrated I had felt after he cornered me against the wall.
Okay that thought process isn't helping to steer me away from my inappropriate thoughts...
Luckily, he interrupts my inner turmoil. "Well, well, if it isn't Ms. Cockblock," he taunts.
I shoot a glare at him as I throw my bag on the couch—any expression that isn't open-mouthed staring. Walking around the island, I open the fridge to grab a water bottle of my own, trying to avoid any further eye-fucking.
"You deserved it," I snap. I turn to face him and lean against the counter as I take a sip of the water. The cold is shockingly refreshing and seems to calm my nerves.
"Consider us even," I continue. "Now can we go back to the rules I kindly suggested in the very beginning? Just call a truce and go back to ignoring each other?"
He crosses his arms and stares at me for a moment, but he doesn’t answer my question.
I roll my eyes. "Whatever. I don't have time for this. I’m going upstairs to shower.”
A smirk finally curls the corners of his lips. “Want me to join? You’re clearly enjoying my appearance tonight. I assure you I look even better in the shower.” The smirk stretches into a wide grin. “I’ll even help you pick out the right outfit after.”
A furious blush lights my cheeks at having been caught checking him out. My embarrassment causes me to lash out. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I snap. “It’s just weird seeing you dress for a job that doesn’t involve rolling around with sweaty men.” He doesn’t react to my taunt, just continues leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest and a grin on his face.
Feeling both flustered from Tristan calling me out and panicked that he’ll continue his teasing, I hurry from the kitchen and head upstairs to get away from him as quickly as possible. I select an outfit for dinner tonight and head to the bathroom to get ready.
A minute later, I'm standing under the rainfall shower and exhaling the tension I didn't realize I was holding onto. I mentally slap myself for letting myself be so affected by Tristan.
It’s never really been like this with him before. Sure, I always knew he was attractive, but that’s about all that was likeable about him. He was too arrogant and too selfish for me to be interested in him in any real capacity. Other than Jax, the only thing he ever seemed to give a shit about was fighting, which meant even women didn’t matter to him beyond being a good fuck. And since I’m not interested in sleeping with a coach that I’m going to have to see every day after he tosses me to the curb, sex has always been completely off the table. Which just leaves the option of friendship.
That, obviously, hasn’t worked out either. I’m not sure he even knows how to be friends with a woman. So instead, we’ve been insulting each other for three years and trying not to kill each other for Jax’s sake. It’s never gotten so bad that one of us has actually hurt the other, but it’s clear to anyone that sees us interact that we really don’t like each other. I can count on one hand the amount of positive interactions we’ve had over the years. Jax tries to keep us apart as much as possible but between training at the gym, fight nights at the house, fights at the arena, and the average house party between the gym family, it’s pretty much impossible to keep us apart entirely. Over the years we just had to learn to deal with each other.
But there’s never been a sexual undertone like there is now. Tristan has never flustered me as much as he has this week. I can’t figure out if it’s the forced proximity or the absence of Jax, but ever since I ran that sorority chick out of his bedroom, it’s like there’s a charge between us. I’m not sure if it’s an “I wanna fuck you” charge or an “I’m minutes away from killing you” charge, but it’s definitely there. He’s thrown me off my game this week and flustered me way more than I’m comfortable with. Not to mention I’m noticing his physical appearance now, which is absolutely unacceptable.
I shudder, remembering how he looked at me after he had backed me into the wall last night. Hours later, I still couldn’t stop thinking about what it felt like to have his heated gaze on me. I tried—and failed—to keep my brain from imagining what it would be like to lick his lips. To be caged underneath him. To feel him take his anger out on me. Even now, my brain is caught up in the image and my hand is trailing down my stomach...
I growl in disgust at my own thoughts and reach forward to turn the water to cold. I can't keep thinking like this. Tristan is an ass, and off-limits, so anything happening between us is a huge no-no.
That is, if he would even have me. I haven't forgotten his words last night. No, the only solution is to continue ignoring him and hope he gets tired of his games.
A small thud interrupts my thoughts. I frown, straining to hear what the sound was.
Eventually I decide it was probably the front door slamming shut as Tristan left for work. I turn back to the loofah in my hand and set to washing the rest of my body under the cold water.
Thoroughly chilled and with thoughts of Tristan banished from my mind, I turn the water off and reach for my towel.