Besides, there were still things left unsaid between them, and the words were piling up in his throat. Things like I used to love you and maybe I still do.
He shot to his feet. “You said there’s a weight bench downstairs?”
Michelle glanced up from her screen. “Yeah. Plus an elliptical and a rowing machine.”
They would have to do. “Thanks. I’m going to take a break.”
She shrugged, so he went upstairs to change. When he came back down in basketball shorts and a loose tank top, Michelle slapped her pen down on the table and glared at him.
“Okay, now you’re just showing off.”
Gabe froze. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” She picked up the pen and used it like a pointer, indicating his attire. “Who’s being distracting now, huh?”
His lips twitched as he glanced down at his outfit. “Oh, this old thing?”
She shook her head and returned her attention to the laptop, but as he headed down the stairs, Gabe heard her mutter, “Two can play at that game.”
Downstairs, he paused for a second to take in the changes. The last time he’d been here, it had been Michelle’s bedroom, with her bed against one wall and posters of the Gorillaz and Star Wars tacked up above it. She’d had a desk with an oval mirror over it. Photos of the two of them at various ages had been tucked into the frame of the mirror, along with pictures of Michelle’s older siblings, her cousins, and both sets of her Italian and Puerto Rican grandparents. Gabe wondered where those photos were now, and if she kept them on display in her apartment.
Even when everyone started using digital cameras, Michelle had still made an effort to get pictures printed, sometimes dragging Gabe along with her to the one-hour photo booth at the local pharmacy.
She’d made a framed collage of the two of them, for him to remember her by while she was away at school. At the time, she’d thought he was staying at home in the Bronx, but it turned out he was the first to leave.
He still had that collage, in a drawer in his apartment in LA. As much as it hurt to look at it, and despite his commitment to minimalism, it had never occurred to him to throw it away.
Now, the basement was a man cave. A leather sofa sat where Michelle’s bed once had, and a huge flat-screen TV hung on the wall over the place where Michelle’s boxy little screen had been. She’d had a cable box and a DVD player, and they’d watched the one and only season of Beyond the Stars countless times on that TV, putting it on in the background while doing homework, along with hours of music videos and raunchy cartoons. As they’d gotten older, they’d smoked weed in her backyard while all of their parents were at work, huddling against the sliding doors, hidden from view by the deck stairs.
Teenage Gabe had needed to be diligent about his smoking schedule because of his baseball plans, but he’d gotten a kick out of watching Michelle roll a blunt. Even the way she’d licked the paper to seal it was sexy. They’d pass a joint back and forth, giggling, the distance between them narrowing the higher they got.
On the far end of the basement, a home gym had been created in one corner. Interlocking foam mats made the floor, and as Michelle had advertised, there were a couple machines and a weight bench, along with some adjustable weights that might get heavy enough for his purposes. A narrow mirror, probably the one Michelle had used in high school, was fixed to the wall behind the bench.
Starting on the elliptical to get his heart rate up, Gabe then moved to the rowing machine. He was on the weight bench doing curls when the basement door opened.
Gabe glanced up and almost dropped the weight on his foot as Michelle jogged down the steps in an outfit that had him instantly going hard.
He’d seen a lot of sports bras in his day. Most were functional, but not fashionable. Some were cheap spandex that didn’t do the job. And some were designed to support while still looking fantastic. Michelle’s was the latter. Her sports bra gave her an impressive amount of uplift and cleavage, and her yoga pants clung to her curves, emphasizing her hips and butt.
She crossed the room and began to unfurl a yoga mat on the floor right in front of him.
Setting the weights down, Gabe dropped his head into his hands and groaned out her name.
“Micheeeeeeeelle.”
“What?” she asked, all innocence. He heard rustling, and when he finally looked up, she was on her hands and knees on the yoga mat, her beautiful butt in the air, with a resistance band tight around her thighs.
He sent her an exasperated look. “What are you doing?”
“You’re the personal trainer. I should think you’d know.” And then she had the nerve to smack her ass and give him a saucy wink. “Gotta keep this baby in prime condition.”
As if all that wasn’t enough, she started doing fire hydrant leg lifts.
Gabe watched her for a few moments, mesmerized. His trainer brain noted her perfect form, the way she kept her core engaged and taut while rotating her leg and hip out. And her body was . . . everything he’d ever wanted. Not even because of what she looked like, but because of Michelle herself. She’d always moved with easy confidence and total trust in her own body. It was rare, and it was sexy as hell. Something he tried to help others learn.
Gabe rubbed his hands over his face to snap out of his trance. “Are you trying to provoke me on purpose?”
Michelle shot him a sassy grin. “Maybe.”
That was a yes. She was trying to drive him wild. Wild with need, with wanting her. How had he ever spent so much time around this gorgeous, maddening woman without losing his mind?
Because he’d thought she wasn’t into him. He hadn’t wanted to push her, hadn’t wanted to ruin the friendship, hadn’t wanted confirmation of what he’d feared—that they really were just friends—followed by rejection.
But she hadn’t rejected him. Then or now.
“Actually, I just remembered I have to do push-ups.” Dropping down to the mat, Gabe caught Michelle around the waist and flipped her onto her back. She let out a peal of laughter, but made no move to push him away. Gabe braced himself above her, doing push-ups that brought his mouth an inch away from hers. On the third one, Michelle lifted her chin and kissed him.
Fire spiraled through him. He loved her playful side, the way she enticed him to take things less seriously. Lowering himself to his elbows, their bodies touching, he murmured, “Time for planks.”
She raised her eyebrows as his pelvis pressed into hers. “Someone’s already got a plank, I see.”
His cock surged against her, inexplicably turned on by her bad jokes. “And someone didn’t warm up first,” he said, then closed his mouth over hers.
She kissed him back fully, her hands coming up to cup his face. Shifting his weight onto one elbow, Gabe slid his other hand down her body, molding over her breasts and belly before delving his fingers into the tight space between her thighs. They were pressed together by the resistance band and his own legs. The spandex pulled taut over her pussy, making it easy for his fingers to find her crease. He stroked her through the fabric, loving her heat, swallowing her gasps as he continued to kiss her.
Her hips bucked against his hand. Little moans issued from her throat as her kisses became more intense. The fabric against his fingers grew damp. And then she bit his lower lip, letting out a high-pitched cry as her body shuddered beneath him.