Deflowered

Chapter 6

"That heat pricking across your skin tells a story of your desire. Don't be afraid. It means you're alive."

Kicking off my comforter, my fingers dug into my pillow as I hurled it across the room.

"We're just friends." I reassured myself as I took off my nightgown and pulled a sports bra on.

"And Adam" Just the thought of him hanging up on me irritated me more. My resentment escalated each time I flashed to our conversation. My mind even began to travel back to memories in search of more reasons for me to stay mad at him.

I had baked enough cookies to feed a small village, cleaned....twice, and now running seemed to be my best option if only to work off the ten cookies I inhaled earlier. I also refused to think about the cookie dough I kept stealing. My scalp stung as I pulled my hair tightly back into a ponytail before throwing on my running shoes.

As I rode the elevator down to the gym, I untangled my earphones. It was empty which wasn't surprising for 2am. I rounded the glass encasement that held the resistance pool and I stopped abruptly.

Come on! Really? My shoulders slumped and I had to laugh tiredly at my luck.

Mason swam at a furious pace, but it looked so natural for him. Each stroke was fluid and with purpose. Each breath he surfaced for sought him. Even in a pool of water, he dominated. Granted, he filled the pool with his height. I had never seen shoulders so broad, his back an expanse of rippling muscles and smooth skin.

An acute awareness awoke in that moment. His movements transcended that pool and I imagined him in bed with similar undulations, on top of a woman whom I refused to linger on. I was afraid of the face I might find. Heat raged through my body from my hips and bursting outward to the tips of my toes and fingers.

I tore my eyes from him, mortified, confused, and ashamed. I found a treadmill hidden from his view and hopefully his exit. He was partly one of the reasons I was there. The other, I was trying to distract myself enough so I didn't cave and call Adam. Tim McGraw's Real Good Man roared through my earphones, and my feet dug into a reasonable pace before I put the incline to level 10. I needed the physical burn to paralyze me emotionally.

My thighs burned as I continued to climb the treadmill easing a tiny piece of my guilt and the majority of my resentment that ten cookies couldn't touch. I felt my heart in my chest, a deep resounding beat that matched the racing speed of Mason's last night.

Stop.

I tried. Like the belt that continually looped beneath my feet, I just kept replaying the sensations. The fabric of his white button up was a thin barrier for the warmth beneath my cheek as I listened to the sound of his excitement or nervousness. I shook my head exasperatingly. The innocent workout of Mason had turned into something much more sensual than it needed to be.

Adam.

I forced myself to focus on our situation again. My mind willingly obeyed and ran with the demand. My legs moved me forward pushing harder and faster. My chest began to feel the burn of extreme exertion. My irritation expanded to anger like a snowball rolling down the mountain of my memories. It gathered more snow with flashbacks I now found questionable. We had already resolved and navigated the majority of them, but the feelings hit me like an avalanche. Our communication had always been our saving grace, and I finally began to taste the consequences when we both avoided it due to pride. I knew right then I'd cave. Allowing pride to hinder my marriage was just not in my nature. I stopped the treadmill and unhooked my earphones before calling Adam. It went to his voicemail but even the sound of his voice dissipated the rest of my tension.