What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 4) by Selena Kitt & Sarah Castille & Zoey Derrick & Elle Harper & Lucy Felthouse & Brenna Aubrey & Kim Carmichael & Gemma James & Dale Mayer & Hedonist Six

Author:Selena Kitt & Sarah Castille & Zoey Derrick & Elle Harper & Lucy Felthouse & Brenna Aubrey & Kim Carmichael & Gemma James & Dale Mayer & Hedonist Six [Kitt, Selena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, erotica, Box Set, Contemporary, Anthology
Publisher: WTRAFSOG
Published: 2014-07-31T04:00:00+00:00

What the hell was that? I couldn’t help but wonder. It wasn’t even ten o’clock when I checked the clock in my room—the guest room just down from his. His door was open, light off, so I assumed he wasn’t in his quarters.

What had made him react so strongly? Why that look of revulsion on his face? Was Adam screwed up about sex? Maybe he’d been abused as a child or teen. The thought turned my stomach but alleviated some of my anger. What if he couldn’t help it? But he’d obviously had sexual relationships with other women—at least one of whom I’d met, Lindsay. But maybe it was something about my being a virgin? Of course if that repelled him, why bid on the auction?

I paced in a tight circle for a while before deciding there was no way I could keep still. I slipped on my shorts and running shoes and headed down to the yacht’s little gym. Adam had showed it to me on my tour that afternoon—a room with a treadmill, elliptical machine, weights. I could use a nice long run to clear my head.

With my trusty mp3 player and earbuds in, I descended a deck and—after a couple wrong turns—finally found the room I was seeking. I had the light shining from the doorway to thank for being able to find it. So this was where he’d run to.

Undeterred, I queued my music to my running playlist and headed straight for the unoccupied treadmill. I caught a glimpse of him in the corner—in running shorts and a black tank top—at the pull-up bar. So I wasn’t the only one who had decided to burn off my sexual frustration with exercise.

His head jerked toward me just as I turned my back on him and mounted the treadmill.

I turned it on and quickly got my pace up, upping the speed probably faster than I should have. I wanted to burn off the energy as quickly as possible. Maybe, exhausted, I could find the courage to talk to him after that.

I was all-out sprinting—Christina Aguilera’s “Keeps Getting Better” pounding through my pulse—when he entered my line of vision, standing just in front of me and mouthing something, shaking his head sternly. I shook my head and looked down. He wanted to talk now? Hell no. He could wait. Just like I’d waited up on the top deck while he’d checked in on work.

He didn’t move when I refused to stop running or look at him. Then he reached out and turned off the treadmill. The safety mechanism kicked in and the slow was gradual. If I turned it on again, I’d only fall, because it would start with a much slower speed than the one at which I was running.

When it came to a stop I yanked out my earbuds. “What the hell was that?”

He scowled at me. “You’re going too fast. You didn’t even warm up.”

“I’ll thank you to keep your fucking nose out of my exercise routine.