Page 74 of Selling Innocence

I narrowed my eyes, then set a hand on Kenz’s back to get her moving. The man was just being nosey and invasive—it was hardly reason enough to react even if I didn’t care for his words.

They brought up feelings and wants that I was wholly uncomfortable with. Kenz was…

I didn’t know how to finish that statement, and worse? I knew it didn’t matter. How I might feel about her didn’t change our reality. It didn’t alter who and what I was or make any difference in the fact I had no place in her life after we finished our task.

We crossed the gym, with others nodding at me in acknowledgment as we headed toward the private rooms. I went to room three and scanned my card, the lock unlatching since the room was registered to me for the time being.

I knew these rooms quite well—often practiced in them to stay away from prying eyes.

Plus, when I worked out in the main gym, I always ended up with people trying to speak to me. It caused an awkward moment when I had to try to mime to them that I couldn’t speak.

In fact, I often carried a stack of basic cards with that written on them. Still, I preferred to work out and practice without an audience unless I was actually sparing or teaching a class.

Kenz looked around the room, the mirrored walls, the padded floors, the punching bags lining the wall. She didn’t appear freaked out by any of it.

Then again, I recalled how she’d dealt with that man who had grabbed her before. Clearly, she’d taken some self-defense in the past. Anymore, it was common for women to take a class or two for their own protection. I had to guess she’d done so.

Kenz gestured down at herself. “I don’t think I’m really dressed for any of this.”

I let my gaze skim along her body, pressing my lips together when I realized what she meant. She wore a long black skirt with a lace overlay, paired with a crop-top, long-sleeved shirt. I’d grown so used to how she dressed that it hadn’t even occurred to me.

I also try hard not to notice how she looks in such things.

I held one finger up before heading out to the front.

When I came back, I handed her the workout clothing I’d bought from the man at the desk. They didn’t have a lot to choose from, but they had enough to work for today.

Kenz took the clothing, a sigh as if she knew she couldn’t get out of whatever I had planned now.

I turned my back, facing the door to give her privacy. I expected her to complain, to ask about the locker rooms, but to my surprise she didn’t.

She must have gotten used to having a security detail enough to realize semi-public places like that were best to avoid when possible.

The rustle of clothing behind me made my pulse speed. I hadn’t started to work out, but I suspected I’d already hit my heart rate goal.

Despite the way I told myself not to react, not to think about it, my brain had other ideas. It supplied a fantasy of Kenz standing there, naked, so close that I could turn around and be on her in a heartbeat.

Would she push me away?

Would she flinch? Would she show fear?

I stared down at my hands, which appeared clean, but I knew better than to believe that. I shouldn’t touch a girl like her, not with hands that had done the things mine had.

“Okay, I’m decent.” Kenz’s voice came out shy, and why did I find even that charming?

I turned to find her bent forward, lacing the sneakers I’d grabbed for her. When she rose, I considered strangling the man behind the counter.

I hadn’t looked closely at what he’d given me, just paying the cost without much thought. Since there weren’t a lot of options, it wasn’t as though I had many choices.

Clearly, I should have paid far more attention.

Kenz was in a pair of black workout shorts that left all of nothing to the imagination. They were snug around her, high waisted so they stopped right at her belly button, and went to her mid-thigh. On top, she had a black and pink sports bra-top that might have been a bit too tight, given the way it created enough cleavage to make a young boy drool. The bra didn’t stop just below her bust, instead with another few inches of fabric, meaning it functioned as a crop top as well. It left a small strip of skin between the shorts and top exposed, which wasn’t that different from her previous outfit. Perhaps the skin-tight fabric made this feel so much more…naked.

“There’s a sweater here too, but I’ll be too hot if I wear that.” She showed no signs of being uncomfortable in so little, no embarrassment about it.

Was it because she often wore clothing that exposed quite a bit of her or was it that she didn’t view me as a man? Perhaps she saw me as a friend, as someone she didn’t need to consider such things around?

I pulled in a deep breath to center myself, to remind me that I had more than enough self-control to deal with this.