Weightless (21 page)

I wondered if that were true in many aspects of his life.

After a few more reps, he set the bar back into place and sat up slowly, wiping his brow with the same white towel he always had with him. He tucked it back into the back band of his shorts, and then his emerald eyes were on me.

I couldn’t breathe.

I waited for him to frown, or curse, or roll his eyes or shake his head. I waited for him to order me to a treadmill or ask what the hell I was doing wasting training time just staring at him like an idiot. All of those things I expected.

But Rhodes just smiled.

That smile lifted the pressure from my chest and I inhaled like it was my first breath.

It hadn’t been a dream. It was real. It was all real.

Rhodes’ eyes stayed fixed on mine as he crossed the room to where I was standing. He crossed his arms, legs spread shoulder-wide in a confident stance. “Really?” he asked, shaking his head. His eyes trailed from my own to take in my full appearance. “You choose
today
to wear shorts for the first time?”

I glanced down at the tighter-than-preferred black shorts my mom had convinced me to buy. My legs were getting toned, and I had to admit — the squats were paying off nicely in the glutes area — but I knew I was far from looking like the other girls at the club. Eying Rhodes through my lashes, I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I look stupid, don’t I?”

His smile fell. “Hardly.”

Rhodes looked around the room, as if it weren’t safe for us to speak, then he nodded toward the back office. “Come on, let’s check your numbers.”

I frowned. “But it’s only Thursday.”

He gave me a pointed look that told me not to ask any more questions before leading me back. Once the door was closed behind us, he motioned to the scale and I stepped up. Rhodes sidled up beside me, looking at the numbers on the scale that I refused to acknowledge. I just looked at him, instead.

“Did you forget everything I said to you the other night?”

I laughed, but Rhodes didn’t. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget anything about that night.” I blushed at the admission, but Rhodes just offered a soft smile.

He leaned in closer, but paused, resting his hand on my lower back so lightly I thought I might be imagining it. “You are beautiful, Natalie,” he whispered. A chill sparked where his hand touched my skin and traveled in all directions until it covered my entire body. “I can’t touch you the way I want to while we’re here, the way I did two nights ago, to show you that. So, I need you to just start believing it.”

I nodded, though I was far from believing I was beautiful. Rhodes clearly had on goggles I wasn’t yet accustomed to. Still, hearing his words, I wanted to believe him — I wanted to feel beautiful.

Rhodes cleared his throat and removed his hand quickly. “Good. Come on, we have work to do. Only two more workouts until weigh-in day.”

He didn’t tell me what the numbers were on the scale and I was grateful. The rest of my life was such a mess — I needed something scheduled, something reliable and stable. Weigh-in day was Sunday. I needed that to look forward to and dread all at the same time.

Rhodes worked me just as hard that day as he usually did. It almost felt like normal, except his hands touched me more, his eyes almost never left me, and the energy between us caught fire.

When our session ended and I all but limped to my gym bag, I waited for Rhodes’ next move. I half expected him to dismiss me like usual, but the other half of me was anxiously awaiting something — anything — that meant I wouldn’t have to say goodbye yet.

Rhodes held up his hand for a high five and it took more energy than I cared to admit to meet his hand with my own.

“Nice job today. See you same time tomorrow?”

I was smiling, but I couldn’t help the disappointment I felt when I realized the first half of me was correct. “Okay.”

He grinned, a sexy, not-safe-for-the-gym grin, and then turned toward the men’s locker room. It was when his hand left mine that I realized he’d replaced it with a small, folded piece of notebook paper.

Dinner. My place. 8 o’clock.

Bring your camera.

Biting my lower lip, I shoved the note into my bag and made my way out of the gym. The workout was over, but the heartrate on my watch display only climbed higher. It took eight words to send my body into overdrive. Just eight words scribbled on an off-white sheet of paper.

Rhodes was better cardio than a marathon.

“Did you bring your camera?” Rhodes asked as he hand-washed our dishes from dinner. I was full and sore and exhausted, but being with Rhodes somehow made me feel like I could run miles.

Nodding, I slid up next to him, grabbing the soft blue towel hanging from the oven and using it to dry each dish as he finished. “I did. Why?”

“Do you have the photos you took at the fair still on it?”

“Yes?” I said the word almost as a question.

He nodded. “Go grab it.”

Rhodes took the last dish from my hands and finished drying it before dabbing his own hands on the towel and following me over to the couch. He fell down onto it easily, propping his feet on the table as I rummaged through my bag for my camera. When I had it powered on and pulled up to the photos he referenced, I sat down carefully on the middle cushion of the small couch. Though I wasn’t hugging the opposite arm like usual, I was still nervous to sit too close to Rhodes. I felt like he was a caged animal. One wrong move might send him running or cause him to attack. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

But as soon as I sat, Rhodes pulled me into him, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I stiffened before easing into him, focusing on my breaths. He was dressed in relaxed sleep pants and another Poxton High School weightlifting t-shirt. His hair was still damp from his shower, mussed, and sexy. He was always so sexy.

Am I just now noticing that? Or just now admitting it?

“Show me the photos you took that night.”

“I hate all of them, just so you know,” I prefaced, scrolling through the photos with him looking over my shoulder. “I couldn’t capture what it felt like to be there.”

Rhodes studied each photo carefully, stopping me if I scrolled through too quickly. When we reached the end, I watched his face with curiosity. His brows were furrowed, his eyes contemplative.

“You don’t feel in control of your life.”

He said the words as a statement, not as a question, and so I didn’t answer. I kept my eyes fixed on his, though suddenly it was difficult to swallow.

“Looking at the pictures on your wall and at those you just showed me, there’s so much control in the shot. It’s almost
too
by the book, like photography is the only thing you think you can fully control and follow a manual to figure out.”

His words hit me square in the gut and I had to fight the urge to double over from the weight of them.

“It’s not that you don’t shoot beautiful photos, because you do,” he clarified, sitting up straighter. His arm left my shoulder in the process and I reached out to touch his leg, desperate to be connected. “But I see what you don’t see, Natalie. I see the beauty in the imperfections of the world. I think you need to look a little closer.”

My breaths were loud, my voice hoarse. “You don’t see the beauty in you.”

Rhodes’ face hardened and he pulled away from my grasp, propping his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. He stared forward at the television, though it wasn’t powered on. “There’s nothing beautiful about me.”

My heart ached, and I reached for him once more. He flinched when my fingers found his back, and he remained still — almost statuesque — as I trailed them lightly up until I found his neck, his hair, and I pulled him close.

“You told me I had to start believing I was beautiful,” I said, louder than before but still just above a whisper. “If I do, then you do, too.”

Pressing his forehead to mine, Rhodes shook his head slightly. “I’m not like you, Natalie. Can’t you see that?” He exhaled, the air leaving his lungs and reviving my own. “I stayed away from you for so long because I know who I am. I know what I’m capable of.” He pulled back, his intense eyes locking on my own. “We both know I’m going to hurt you. It’s one of the reasons we avoided this for so long. Admit it,” he said, swallowing. “You know I’m not good for you.”

I chewed my bottom lip, blindly thumbing at the settings on my camera until I knew they were where I wanted them. His assessment couldn’t be farther from the truth, in my mind at least. He was maybe the only thing good in my life that summer. Slowly, I lifted the camera, and snapped one, single photo. It was close — too close to focus without taking more time — but I didn’t know if I’d have it. I expected Rhodes to hide or flinch or turn his body away, but he didn’t. I aimed the lens at his left eye, the one that always squinted slightly when I knew he was thinking about something he wouldn’t speak out loud. Glancing at the photo on the camera screen, I smiled, and then showed it to Rhodes.

“How’s this for looking a little closer?”

Rhodes smirked, his eyes hard on the photo as if it were the only one he’d ever been in. For all I knew, it very well could have been. Slowly, I slipped my hand into his and pressed my index finger hard to the inside of his wrist. I felt his heart pulsing through the vein, hard and steady, but nowhere near as fast as mine. He moved his own finger to mirror mine, and we were connected, hand to hand, heart to heart, and I’d never felt closer to anyone in my entire life.

Rhodes wrapped his index finger around my wrist to join the rest of his fingers and he gripped tight, pulling me into him and closing the distance between us. His lips found mine in a mixture of passion and need. I moaned instinctively, which only made Rhodes kiss me harder.

I could sense him holding back. His hands gripped me hard and I winced, though not from pain — from the shocking pleasure of it all. Still, a small wrinkle formed where his brows met and he kissed me softer, taking his time. When my hand slipped under his shirt and fingered the hem of his boxers, he growled, lifting me hastily from the couch. I wrapped my legs around him and it felt natural — like I wasn’t as heavy as I knew I was. He held me as if I was just a dainty doll, but he eyed me as if I were a vixen. He wanted me. I could feel it pouring out of every inch of his body, and I’d never experienced a power rush quite so strong.

He threw me onto the bed when we reached his room, quickly pulling off my tight jeans as I maneuvered out of my shirt. My heart kicked against my ribs in an unsteady rhythm as I stripped for the second time in front of Rhodes. The first time I’d felt self-conscience and unsure, but this time, my need to be skin on skin with Rhodes outweighed my embarrassment. For a moment, I let myself believe I was beautiful — just like he’d said.

Rhodes fell down on top of me, bracing himself on his elbows. My fingers found the hard muscles of his biceps and I gripped them tight, holding on for dear life. He lifted me just enough to unsnap my bra and toss it to the side and then his mouth was on my breast, sucking hard, awakening every sleeping cell in my body.

I bit my lip, soft moans escaping through the slight opening of my mouth. Rhodes trailed his rough hand down my skin, leaving an electric fire in its wake, until he found my center. He didn’t even bother removing my panties. He swiftly moved them to the side and before my brain could process what was happening, he slid two fingers inside me.

I cried out, the intense pleasure surrounding me.

“Christ,” Rhodes muttered, and I wasn’t sure if it was a curse or a prayer. He removed his fingers slowly before reentering them once more. His arms were tense and I felt him focusing on his breaths. He was restraining himself, touching me gently as if he was afraid he’d break me.

It was a slow build, and I wriggled beneath his hand, asking without words for him to move faster, harder, deeper. He would give in, give me what I want, and then pull the reigns back once more. Cupping his hand around me, his palm massaged my clit each time his fingers slid inside, the combination stirring an energy deep inside me. I pulled my lips between my teeth and bit down harder, stifling my moans. Each time I released them, Rhodes would catch them with his own lips. They were plumping, swelling from the pressure and the pleasure.