Sweet Discipline (14 page)

She turned her head and watched him leave. That was it? He was walking away after getting her all primed. She exhaled loudly, then turned back. Let him leave. She had better things to do than fuss about his reasons for backing away.

Company policy, my ass. He was as turned on as I was.

Upping the pace, she strode, then ran and ran. Her breath came fast as she sweated away the miles. Sweated away the desire that gnawed on her insides.

When she was too tired to run anymore, she slowed, stepped off the machine and wasn’t surprised to find her legs rubbery. A shower helped.

She stretched out on her bed. It was deeply comfortable and she’d slept better here than anywhere else, but now, though she was exhausted, her bones crying out for rest, her mind wouldn’t slow down.

How long had she been here? How many days to go? Apart from the kinkier aspects of her stay, she couldn’t fault the program. She placed her hand on her stomach.

It was flatter. She could even feel a dip where before there had been a definite bulge.

She smiled and checked her hipbones. There they were, all right.

She had more endurance, less flab on her arms and legs. Her muscles were toning.

She didn’t want the bodybuilder look, that’s for sure, but she could live with a sleekly toned body. Live with? Hah. She craved it.

She wanted to walk into a room and own it. She wanted admiring looks for her body as much as she wanted respect for her mind and intelligence.

Intelligence. That was the key. She’d use her smarts to make the best of her stay here. Screw Adrian and his hot and cold nature. She’d clear her mind, concentrate on her physique, build her stamina and lose the weight. Never mind what Adrian had promised her when she lost the next ten pounds.

She wouldn’t have sex with him if he had the last working penis on earth.

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As if he knew of her decisions and respected them, Adrian kept their sessions over the following days simple and to the point. He worked her hard, forcing her to go a little bit more each day, making her reach deeper within herself to go one more set, one more step.

He didn’t touch her. He studied her body, noting her progress with the detachment she now welcomed. They spoke only when necessary, and he no longer supervised her mealtimes. She had it easy here, with excellent meals prepared and served without her having to lift a finger. It was effortless to eat what was on her plate, and even leave a few bites of her chocolate mousse. She couldn’t remember when she’d last had a craving for candy.

Adrian would be proud of her, but he wasn’t here to see.

He started leaving her alone for varying periods of time. At first that was difficult to get used to, accustomed as she was to his presence, but then she began to look forward to being by herself.

At least, when he wasn’t present, she could stop trying so hard to be as distant and professional as he was. She could stop not looking at him, stop wondering for the zillionth time what he looked like naked, wondering how his muscles bunched and released during a workout.

She could stop fantasizing about making love to him. Correction: having sex with him until neither of them could walk.

Instead, she wondered what he did when he wasn’t with her. What did he do when he left her for the night? Where did her live and what did he do for fun? Did he live alone?

Did he have a girlfriend, a lover? She scowled. Had he been getting all worked up arousing her and then going home and satisfying his passion with another woman? Or was he gay? Was that why he could touch her and not want her? Did he take his superlative body home and share it with another man? What was he thinking of when he used the butt dildos on her?

Jealous. That’s what she was. Jealous because her trainer might be getting it off with someone else. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, trying to block out the image of Adrian pumping into a faceless person. Her chest ached, her nipples felt bruised. She had no right, no reason to feel this way, but it felt like betrayal.

The thought scoured her insides, turning the taste of sweet mousse to bitter bile.

She left the table, knowing someone, faceless and efficient, would clear it while she was in the training room. She began her afternoon session with the weights, proud of 80

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herself from having graduated from the puny two-pounders to the heftier ones. Up and down, breathe in and out.

She’d moved on to her abs work when Adrian entered the room. Immediately, she stopped what she was doing and sank into the position.

He nodded absently, then walked around the room, checking the equipment as he did daily. He had an abstracted expression on his face, as if something bothered him.

Norris was proud of herself. Normally, she’d wonder what upset him and be peeking at him from her downturned eyes. Today, she was distant, contained, in admirable control of herself. Should Adrian notice, he’d only see her looking calm and serene.

He wouldn’t see how her insides fluttered.

Adrian circled the room, touching this, examining that. He pulled out drawers of the cabinet, checking the contents. He looked distracted, and some of that spilled over onto her.

She fidgeted.

“Be still,” he snapped, in the severe voice she hadn’t heard in days.

She subsided, but she watched. His hair looked messy, as if he’d run his hands through it. His clothes, his usual black jumpsuit, looked rumpled.

He paced another circle, then slumped into the chair. It was the first time she’d seen him sprawl, his shoulders down and head sunk forward. He looked like a man with a lot on his mind and none of it good. She watched him warily. He wouldn’t be in here, acting like he’d just lost his last friend, if it didn’t involve her.

He hadn’t had to discipline her lately, and even when he had felt it necessary to correct her, he’d handled it easily, in control, showing no emotion. It made her feel unbalanced, uneasy, and uncertain.

He lifted his head and stared at her. His face, always severe, was etched with something she couldn’t quite identify. Worry? Fear? Anger? That was it. Anger. He was pissed about something. With her? What had she done? She racked her brain and found nothing. She began to tremble. Whatever it was, this wasn’t going to be fun.

He cleared his throat. “Something’s come up.” He frowned. “I mean, there’s something I need to tell you.”

She swallowed. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No, it’s not you. Well, it involves you, but you’re not at fault.”

She’d never seen him at a loss for words. It made her restless and fearful in return.

Relieved that he wasn’t incensed with her, but how else could she be involved?

He stood abruptly and began to pace. She turned her head, keeping her eyes on him as he prowled the room. He stopped before her.

“Stand up.”

She scrambled to her feet and waited anxiously. Her heart raced.

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“I’m going to turn you over to another trainer,” he stated.

An immediate sense of loss swept through her. Her eyes widened. “Why?”

His narrowed as he stared at her. They were a deep, dark brown, richer than the most scrumptious chocolate. She lost herself looking into them. Almost mesmerized, she couldn’t look away. “Why?” she repeated in a whisper.

He swallowed. “I’ve lost my objectivity.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Another trainer can get you back on track.”

“I wasn’t aware I was off track,” she whispered. “I’ve done everything you tell me.”

Her voice gained strength. “I’m losing weight. Getting control.”

He nodded.

“Then why?” She thought fast. “You said no other trainers were available.”

“They weren’t then. One is now.”

“I don’t want to start over with another trainer. I’ve gotten used to you.” Now
that
was an understatement.

“You can get used to someone else,” he answered roughly.

“But I don’t want someone else.” She reached out to him, touching his chest. “I want you.”

“Damn it.” He reached for her, swept her into his arms, and kissed her. His mouth was hard, punishing, and desperate.

She was too startled to react at first. His heat enveloped her, surrounding her with his power. She stiffened. She’d been very much aware of his body before, but not like this. Pressed close to hers. His height, the breadth of his shoulders and the strength of his arms held her contained while he devoured her mouth. She’d wanted his kiss, but not like this. She tried to break away, and couldn’t break the vise he held her in.

Then gradually, as his grip eased and his mouth softened, she responded. His lips brushed hers, once, twice, as if apologizing for the rough treatment, then coaxing, teasing, inducing her to open her mouth to him.

She felt trampled. Conflicting emotions and feelings ran over her roughshod. She couldn’t sort out her reactions, couldn’t believe he was kissing her, couldn’t believe the about-face. And then she didn’t care anymore why he was kissing her. It was enough that he was.

She kissed him back. She opened her mouth to him, pulled him in and gave him anything and everything he wanted while she feasted.

She explored his mouth, savoring his taste and his tongue exploring hers. This was what she’d craved, his body pressed so close to hers she could hardly breathe. The heat and strength of him drawing her into his spell. The taste,
ohmigod
, the taste of him, dark, powerful, commanding and demanding.

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Her knees buckled under her. His arm caught her and held her upright while a hand swept up her naked curves and cupped her breast.

He had touched her before, aroused her before, but never like this. Fevered, frantic and fabulous. Holding nothing back.

Abruptly, he let her go. His breathing was harsh, as harsh as the angles of his face.

“That’s why.”

She stumbled and grabbed the back of a chair to hold her upright. Still unsteady on her feet, she panted, trying desperately to get her own breathing under control. “Yes, yes. Let’s do it, right now.”

“No.”

She whirled away, blood rushing to her face, then turned to face him, her anger running hot and deep. “How can you do this to me? To us? I know you want me. I tasted it just now! You want it as much as I do!”

“Maybe more,” he admitted, his chest heaving. “Do you think it’s been easy, arousing you, making you come, seeing how good it is for you and not being able to do anything about it?”

“But you can! I want it. You want it. Why stop?”

“I’m not going to have sex with you,” he said harshly, his voice as rough as the look in his eyes.

“But I want you!” she cried, sexual frustration making her voice sharp and needy.

“I want you, too,” he admitted. “Too damn much.”

“Then why…?”

“Because it wouldn’t be sex. That I could handle. Making love, I can’t.”

He turned on his heel and was out the door before she could say anything.

She stared after him, her mouth agape.

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Norris heard the door open and automatically dropped to her knees.

“What are you doing on the floor?”

She glanced up. A woman dressed in a hot pink sports bra and black spandex shorts stood in the doorway.

“Who are you? Where’s Adrian?”

“I’m Rachel, taking over for him.” She flicked an assessing glance over Norris. “Get up, get some clothes on. Wear your sweats.”

Norris scrambled to her feet, embarrassed and angry. She didn’t want another trainer, especially a skinny little thing who flaunted her toothpick body in skimpy workout clothes.

She took her time, deliberately dawdling as she pulled on clothes. They felt strange against her skin, now that she was used to being nude all the time.

Rachel waited for her, seated in the armchair Adrian had favored. Norris frowned.

“Adrian has his training techniques,” Rachel said in response to her unvoiced question. “I have mine. I won’t require any of the methods he’s been using.”

Norris nodded, thankful for that. If she’d found it difficult and humiliating with him, it would be doubly so with a woman trainer. Still, she felt unsure. She’d gotten used to and felt comfortable with the deference Adrian required. It gave her limits and incentives. What was she supposed to do now? Should she stand or sit?

Rachel answered her unanswered question by waving her to a chair. Norris perched on the edge of it.

“I see why Adrian wanted to switch. Don’t worry. It happens with all his female clients.”

Norris stopped short. All his clients? She was no more than another body to him?

Rachel studied her face, then sighed. “Have you heard of the Stockholm syndrome?”

Of course she had. “Kidnap victims getting attached to their kidnappers, forgetting other relationships.”

“Something like that.”

“You’re suggesting that’s what happened between Adrian and me?” Norris asked, not hiding her scorn. “Forget that.”

Rachel eyed her dubiously. “Granted you aren’t a kidnap victim, but when you see only one person, rely on that person in a situation like this, it gets pretty intense.”

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Rachel had a point, Norris acknowledged. “Not for a moment have I forgotten who I am or my life outside this place.” She made her voice firm and absolute.

“It’s easy for a woman client to fixate on a male trainer.” Rachel went on, ignoring Norris’ protests. “She can imagine that there is more to their relationship than—”

“You can stop right there. I know exactly what there is between Adrian and me.”

And that’s zilch, she mourned.

Rachel hesitated, then nodded. “If you say so. Adrian has his reasons, whatever they are. He’s already working with another client.”

Norris couldn’t hide how much that hurt.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get over it.” Rachel’s voice was sympathetic, then turned brisk. “Let’s see how you’re doing.”

She led the way into the training room and put Norris through her exercise routine.