Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Rain check?
Just looking at the text had made me instantly hard. I knew exactly what she wanted and I doubted she knew just how badly I wanted to give it to her. But things had changed, and I couldn’t afford to let things between us go any further than they already had.
I laced up my shoes a little too tight and rolled my neck, working out the morning stiffness. It was Saturday and I planned to work for most of the day, but I needed a run to clear my head. I left my apartment and walked to the park, cycling songs on my phone until I found a playlist that felt right.
It was a misty, cold morning. The air felt wet and clingy and I could barely see the sky between the towering buildings all around. New York always felt like home to me because nobody here was ever satisfied. There was a sense of it in the air. Everybody moved with a kind of frenetic urgency, as if the thing they were chasing was always just out of reach, but they were going to try anyway.
I could relate to that feeling, except I usually felt like that thing I wanted so badly was to finally separate myself from my father in every way possible. I wanted my own business, my own success, and I didn’t want to feel like my father could slip his bony fingers into my life at any moment. But lately, I spent far more of my time thinking about Darcy–about how I wished I could simply take her and have her like I wanted. I wanted to wave my hands and erase all the fog of uncertainty around the two of us–for the correct move to be reaching out and taking what should’ve been mine.
I started my jog early, weaving around the foot traffic. My feet pounded the pavement and each step helped focus my mind like drum beats.
I was well into the process of turning my brain off when I crossed the street into the park and headed down my usual trail. I passed a few dog walkers and a large group of seniors speed walking. Then I saw a small woman from the corner of my eye coming toward me at slow speeds with high effort. Her arms were pumping and her short legs churned, but it seemed like she was moving in slow motion despite her efforts.
My pace faltered and I turned my head to look.
What. The. Fuck.
Darcy McClain came jogging up beside me in workout clothes. She had on pastel blue leggings and a pink top that bared her shoulders and a distracting amount of cleavage. Her short hair was pulled up in a tiny knot on top. She pulled out an earbud and looked up at me. We were still running. If I moved any slower, I would’ve had to break into a walk, but Darcy looked like she was at her top speed.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked.
“Going for my morning run. What does it look like?” Darcy had to pant each word out between heavy breaths.
“I mean why are you doing this again? I thought you would give up after that last excuse for a run.”
“Haven’t you realized I don’t give up that easily?”
“Maybe you should learn to.”
Darcy looked like she was about to die. If she’d worked on her conditioning since the last time she ambushed me on a run, it wasn’t evident. She was pumping her arms wildly, head lolling and eyes wild. Sweat was pouring from her hairline and soaking her sports bra. “Fat chance. Bosshole.” She breathed each word with effort, then tried to wink but looked more like she was wincing.
I grinned. “How far have you run?”
“Um,” she gasped. Her face was screwing up now and she started to hobble, losing speed. “How far do you think it is from that bench back there to here?”
She stopped completely, bending over and clutching her knees. “God,” she said. “Why do you run so fast? Do you actually enjoy this?”
All I wanted was to stop and stay with her. I wanted to take her back to my place and give her the orgasm I owed her. I wanted it all badly enough it fucking hurt, but I knew what was coming. I knew I couldn’t afford that, not without risking everything.
I slowed my pace, jogging in place while she sucked in air. “It helps to clear my mind.”
“From what? Work?”
From you. “Something like that,” I said.
“Have you ever heard of meditation? Ice cream?” She put her hands on her hips and leaned back, drawing in more heavy gulps of air and shaking her head. “This is just ridiculous. It’s torture.”
“Why are you here, McClain?”
She held up her palms. “A good interviewer gets inside her subject’s head. I thought maybe if I understood what you’re about outside work, I would get a new angle.”