Bad Intentions (20 page)

Like I said, she understands,
Ryle thought to himself. He knew she hadn’t drudged up the past to taunt him with it. There was always a method to her madness.

“I think maybe you and Adaley are more alike than you think. So you don’t know what her favorite color or food is. So what? I still forget which football team Thomas roots for, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love him. My point is, that we had to break through all of your darn barriers before we had the pleasure of knowing the real you—the person who is selfless and exceeds at anything he puts his mind to. Maybe you need to stop pushing this Adaley away like you did us, and be up front and honest with yourself. If you want to like her, like her with all your heart. It’s then that you’ll truly know her.”

Meredith was a genius.

“I get what you’re saying. Thanks for the advice.”

As per usual, Ryle was a man of few words.

I
can’t remember a time when the campus gym had ever been this deserted. Usually it’s littered with people of all builds, from jocks and cheerleaders trying to keep their figures, to an array of others who are desperately trying to fit the mold of what our world deems beautiful. I glance at the large digital clock hanging over the wall of mirrors. It reads nine forty-five p.m. I barely consider that as being too late to be here. I’ve been so knee-deep in homework and essays, that I’ve been making a habit of burning the midnight oil.

Before I realize what I’m doing, my feet have carried me to the employee lounge. I find my duffle bag and rummage through it until my hands feel the familiar fabric of what I'm looking for. A dainty, faded pink leotard rests in my grip. I haven’t worn this thing in ages, yet, for some unknown reason, I still feel the need to carry it in my gym bag. That’s a lie. There hasn’t been a day that I don’t wish that I were wearing it, prancing around at nationals with the eyes of hundreds of spectators glued on me. That was when I always performed at my best. It was my safe haven, until reality burned it to the ground. I guess this thin, distressed material is a reminder of what was.

I bite my lip as I think about slipping into the lax, worn material that fits my body like a glove, and perform my old routine. I know I’m at work, but there’s not a soul in sight, so no harm done. Right? In a frantic rush, I toss my shirt off and unhook my bra. As soon as the fine material slides over my hips and clings to my skin, goose bumps break out over my body. It’s a surreal feeling that has my blood pumping at an alarming rate. The possibility of me hurting my back further crosses my mind, but sometimes we have to push past things that hurt us in order to heal. I’ll pay the consequences tomorrow, I’m sure. I slide on a pair of spandex shorts—in case someone walks in —and head back into the core of the gym.

Pulling mats off a rack, I arrange them in a rectangle on the hardwood floor of the gym. A routine wouldn’t be complete without a soft melody of music guiding my body to move. I skip toward the desk resting against the far side of the room and press the scan button until a song that is worthy blares through speakers that have been sporadically placed throughout the vast room. Making my way back to the mat, I lean forward and stretch, knowing that my body is going to hate me in the morning.

Gymnastic routines allow an athlete to show off a combination of power, flexibility, and grace. It’s sort of like acting in a Broadway show without dialogue. Your precise, fluent movements and choreography become your words —only they’re not spoken, they're performed.

My movement becomes synchronized with the music, and I lose myself, completely submitting to what had long ago become a natural instinct for me. With each twirl, flip, and leap, I can feel myself getting caught up in the rhythm of this moment.

This is who I am.

A euphoric feeling of being free—of expressing myself without words—runs through my veins. The only true love I’ve ever experienced has been gymnastics.

I swivel around, turning my back to the large mirrors, and prepare to do a pirouette. I’m startled to see Ryle leaning against the desk opposite me. I must’ve been lost in concentration to not hear him come in. Although his presence makes me weak in the knees, I’m not ready to end this moment. I’ve yearned for this again, but up until now, I have been too pathetic to stand up to my aching back.

Like any confident gymnast, I make eye contact with my audience and continue my routine.

Ryle unconsciously licks his lips like a predator that’s about to pounce on his prey. He’s never seen anything as beautiful as what he’s witnessing. In this moment, he knows that Adaley is in her element. Whatever is happening outside of the gyms walls ceases to exist. Hell, he even feels like his presence doesn’t matter.

He watches her like he’s seeing her for the first time, remembering that she mentioned being a gymnast at the bonfire. He recalls being a jackass and daring her to do a flip, knowing damn well that he could have asked her to come sit on his lap and she would have. But, she'd gladly accepted her dare and had done it with poise. It had looked as effortless as asking a basketball player to toss a ball into a hoop. Now, his eyes stay glued onto the beauty in front of him, moving as if she'd been born to glide through the air.

He rakes in her body as she spins around and around. Her legs are muscular and toned. All he can think about is interrupting her to wrap them around his waist and claim her flawless body. Whatever that damn pink thing is that she’s wearing, it hugs her in all the right places. Never before, has Ryle ever wanted to bury himself in anyone as badly as he does right now.

Adaley is captivating, and he is done running from her

I finish spinning and plant my feet firmly on the mat and, as I've done hundreds of times before, I straighten my knees and slowly tilt my head up to see the judge’s faces. Except this time, it’s not a judge I make eye contact with. It’s a guy with the most tantalizing jawline and set of hooded eyes that I’ve ever seen. As soon as my gaze meets his, I become spell bound. I’m lost in Ryle’s sapphire eyes. I’m lost in the exultant feeling of just having completed a routine that I’ve longed to relive since my accident.

I am so freaking lost, that I forget to breathe.

“That was amazing,” he says, taking a step toward me. “I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as what you just did.” I lower my line of vision as he takes another step in my direction. “I—.” Ryle’s mouth tightens. “Fuck it.” His words are hoarse as they leave his lips. “I
have
to kiss you.”

In a millisecond, my body is lifted into the air. The sudden coolness of my back against the mirror sends chills down my legs as they wrap firmly around Ryle’s midsection. One of his hands holds me around my waist, keeping me upright. The other lightly grips the back of my neck.

I feel him gently brush his lips over mine. It isn’t like when Tank stalled and asked for permission to kiss me. This feels more like Ryle is committing the shape of my lips to memory. There’s a thunderous beat in my chest as he parts my lips with his. Our noses brush lightly against the other’s before he devours my mouth with deep, sweeping laps of his tongue. With each stroke, a wave of ecstasy washes over my body. My legs begin to slacken their grip on his hips. He notices. Holding my butt firmly in his hand, Ryle pulls my legs higher on his waist. All the while, his expert tongue coaxes mine without missing a beat.

I’ve never experienced anything like this. I’ve never wanted to push my boundaries as much as I do right now. As our already fervent pace quickens, my hands slide up his sculpted arms and tangle themselves in the wealth of his dark hair.

Gentle but needy moans slip by his lips, and I can tell he's trying, unsuccessfully, to slow down. It's as if he’s finally allowing himself to savor what is happening between us, only to give in to his cravings. His swollen lips retreat and return greedily, like his brain is trying to make sense of this moment.

Nothing needs to make sense.

It just
is.

Ryle is one hundred percent in charge, and I don’t mind in the slightest. I’m happy to be lost in this moment and to have someone guide me through this bliss.

Once we’ve mastered our scintillating kiss, his lips move over my chin to my neck. Running his mouth over the most delicate part of my exposed skin, I squirm in his arms. I need more. My body demands it. “Ryle, I need more. Please,” I breathlessly moan, as my body itches to feel his naked skin against mine.

“Shh… just enjoy this. I am.” He whispers the last part before taking my bottom lip in his mouth and sucking tenderly on it.

“Oh my fucking God. Are you kidding me?” A high pitch screech interrupts us like a gallon of ice water being tossed over our heads. The heat that passed between us moments before is now extinguished by Naomi’s presence.

“What are you doing here?” Ryle’s words are cold and demanding. He pins Naomi with his gaze as he waits for her response, guiding my legs down his hips and away from his body.

“What do you mean? It’s a gym. I obviously came here to work out. I didn’t know I’d be walking in on a porno.”

Sexual tension makes me a little ballsy, and I open my mouth. “Have you ever even seen a porno, darling? We were just kissing. Maybe you need to get your eyes checked.” My response seems to amuse Ryle.

“That’s irrelevant. I don’t need to watch porn when I’ve slept with
him
,” she gloats.

My cheeks instantly color. I don’t even care to question if she’s telling the truth or whether it’s just another one of her little stunts. “Stop being all butt-hurt that he’s kissing me and not you. Maybe you guys did share something, but it fizzled out the moment I came to town. While my middle finger wants to salute you for your efforts at getting under my skin before, I’m not going to let it happen now, because I’m classier than that. Now if you’ll excuse us, I think you said you had some fat to burn.”