Page 28 of Wrapped in Hope
Chapter 10
As I’m lifting weights,my eyes keep falling back on her, the woman I want but can’t have for more reasons than one. Her attention is trained on the windows, looking completely at ease. For the first time since I ran into her, she doesn’t look like she’s in pain. She looks content.
And here I am watching her fucking tits bounce as she runs. What the fuck is wrong with me? This woman is twenty years younger than me. She’s heartbroken over the loss of my son, and all I can think about is sinking deep inside her. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I should be keeping my distance, not trying to help her. Fuck, I can’t even help my wife, why do I think I can help her?
Because she wants to be helped. She wants to heal so she can move on. I can see it when I look at her. She’s lost, but she’s looking for her way back — unlike my wife.
I would be lying if I said that this was all for her though. The sick side of me wants to be with her, even if I can’t touch her or have her the way I want. I just have to fucking tease myself, putting her within mere inches of me. I could reach out and touch her at any time, but I won’t. I won’t allow myself to take advantage of her in that way.
She’s so broken, there’s a chance she may let me. She may even think she wants me too, but she’s sick. She’s dealing with loss and depression. Even if she thinks she wants me, which she doesn’t, there’s a good chance that it’s all just some sort of Band-Aid for her.
I have to keep myself in check. This attraction I feel toward her is my problem. She has enough problems of her own. I will just continue to tease myself until she no longer needs me to get her through this.
I turn my back to her while I continue to lift just so I don’t have any other option but to ignore her. I curl the weight and look up to see a mirror. Automatically, I look in her direction and our eyes meet. Her chest is rising and falling quickly with her heavy breathing, her plump lips are parted, and her soft skin is glistening with sweat. A few strands of dark hair have fallen out of place. They now hang down around her face, clinging to her damp skin. I want more than anything to brush them away before pulling her against me where I can take what I want from her.
Because I’m the sick man I am, I allow my eyes to fall down to her chest to watch as her tits bounce with her movements. I picture her moving on top of me with the same parted lips. I allow myself to imagine what it must feel like to sink deep inside her. My body comes to life with the mental images.
Completely fucking annoyed with myself, I release the weights and take a seat on a machine so my erection won’t be seen. I adjust the weights and start working my legs. I use the workout to release all thoughts. I shouldn’t be thinking the things I am, and I have no fucking clue as to why I can’t stop the thoughts. It’s like my brain has been taken over by her.
Before I ran into her at that meeting, I often thought of her, but it was the eighteen-year-old girl I knew, the one that was hot as hell but with my son. Not this twenty-three-year-old woman who has perky tits, a round ass, and thick, plump lips that would look fucking amazing around my dick. She’s grown into a woman that any man would lose his mind over, not that she sees it.
I chance one more look at her. She’s still running. She has to be close to her third mile by now. I don’t know how she does it. I’m sure she’s using this as a punishment for herself. She’s going to run herself into the ground.
With the problem in my shorts now gone, I stand and walk over to her. I look at the numbers on the treadmill and see she’s nearing her fifth mile. “Alright, that’s enough.”
She shakes her head, completely breathless. “I can go longer.”
“I said, that’s enough.” I pull the cord that shuts down the machine and she slows her pace.
“I said I could go longer.” Her brows are pulled together and anger covers her face.
“This isn’t a punishment. You won’t use it at such.” Fuck, why is she so stubborn?
Her eyes fall to my feet. She didn’t realize I knew what she was doing. “You want to take out some aggression?”
She bites her lower lip and nods with her eyes downcast like she’s afraid of looking at me.
“Follow me.” I turn and walk through the heavy metal doors, leading her to the boxing ring.
I stop and motion toward the punching bag. “There it is.”
Her lips turn up. “You want to fight me?” she asks, looking at the ring.
I shake my head and laugh. “No, you don’t stand a chance against me.” I can’t help but lick my lips as I look her up and down. I shake the dirty thoughts from my head. “You’re going to take a few swings at the bag.”
Her eyebrow lifts out of surprise. “Do you box?”
I nod before grabbing a pair of gloves and tossing them to her. “For about three years now. It’s just for fun, nothing serious. Put those on.”
I take her over to the punching bag that hangs in the back corner. I stand behind the bag, holding it in place. “Let’s see what you got.”
She steps up to the bag and throws a punch.
“That’s the worst form I’ve ever seen.” I step around and stand behind her. I take her wrists in my hands and put them where they should be. When I grab her wrist and place it beside her chin, she sways on her feet, her back brushing against my chest. It makes my body damn near hum. “This hand here to protect your chin. This hand here.” I walk back behind the bag. “When you throw a punch, keep your wrist straight or you could break it. Put all your power and anger into that punch. Understand?”
She nods before throwing another punch that causes the sound of the hit to echo off the bare walls.
“That’s better. Again!”