The Billionaires’ Prize (The Heiress Merger #2)

15. Kingston

15

KINGSTON

Sweat pours down my back as my legs eat up the miles on the treadmill. I’m impressed I can put one foot after the other, considering Katherine sucked my soul out last night.

Through my dick.

I smirk to myself like a horny fifteen-year-old boy.

She’s something else. So much more salacious than I ever expected. And her bravado seems to grow by the day.

I hit the buttons to slow to a walking pace and then lift my arms over my head. The gym comes alive around me with the clang of weights and the slap-slap-slap of a jump rope.

Katherine said she got enough exercise yesterday, which is fair, so I’m by myself this morning. The air is heavy with the combination of sweat, rubber, and determination.

“Done already?”

I glance over my shoulder and find Gabe glancing at the readout on my treadmill, his gorgeous mouth twisted into a smirk. My competitive instincts kick in as my arms drop to my sides. The jackass had the audacity to question my team last night, but we still kicked their asses. He’s not questioning my work ethic.

“Intervals,” I say.

He hops up onto the machine next to mine, plunks a water bottle in one cup holder, his cell in the other, and drapes a towel over the handle. His t-shirt is dark with patchy sweat spots, so he’s already done some sort of workout.

“I could run,” he says, finger jabbing the buttons. The machine hums to life, and the belt slides him back. He’s all loose hips and swagger, not quite a runway strut, but it’s so distracting I trip.

Hands flying out, I catch myself. Thank goodness for excellent reflexes.

“Thinking about last night, huh?” Gabe’s lips tug up, and he quirks his eyebrows. Me too, they say.

I know he means our time with Katherine, but I can’t get him out of my mind. Both of them, actually. How fucking sinful she’d looked on her knees, smiling up at him, taking him deep. The way his lips had parted as he’d sighed, tossing his head back.

I shake my head to clear the naughty reel from my mind. True to my word, I’d crawled into bed with Katherine last night and fulfilled a longtime dream—sleeping with her in my arms. Her sweet scent teased my nose all night long as her soft breaths fanned over my skin.

Fuck. Knock it off before you get a hard-on, Saint.

I glance around, making sure no one is listening to us. That’s one thing I learned early in life, growing up in this world. People are always listening. Always watching.

You might try to tell yourself that you’re just an ordinary person living an ordinary life. That there’s nothing special or prominent about you, but that’s not how this works. Not when you inherit a fortune. Not when your last name is Saint.

And I imagine that Gabriel’s experienced some of that as he’s become more and more famous.

So I give him a quick nod.

And then a satiated smile.

He thumbs the up arrow, increasing his speed to a slow jog, then glances over his shoulder at me. “Got any miles left in your legs?”

Is he. . . holy shit. He’s checking out my calves. That’s not a normal glance. Or, if it is, I’m more exhausted than I thought.

I punch the keypad, increasing my speed, and his lips pull into a smile.

We jog next to each other for a few minutes. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him looking at me. Quick glances. But I swear I feel each one like a gentle caress.

This is nuts. We like Katherine . Katherine is my person .

He’s. . .

Gabe yanks his shirt over his head.

The toe of my shoe catches on the rubber belt, and my muscles tighten as alarm blasts through my veins. I take two extra steps and right myself.

“Is your shoe untied?”

“What?” I look down at my sneakers.

He shrugs a lean shoulder. There’s a smattering of hair at the center of his chest, and his skin has the faintest glow. So, the geek boy gets out into the sun occasionally.

Good to know.

“You just seem to be having trouble staying upright.”

There it is again. That little hitch at the corner of his mouth that makes me want to lick him. Kiss him. Shove him to his knees.

Focus.

“Just a little tired.” I give a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

Let him make of that what he will.

“Wanna increase the incline?”

No. Not really.

Not waiting for an answer, he presses the button, and the machine whirs as it lifts the front end.

Fine. That’s how we’re gonna play this?

“What are you at?” I ask, using a hand to steady myself as I lean over and glance at the numbers on his screen. I change the pitch on my treadmill and immediately feel the burn.

We run in silence for another minute. Then another. I’m so damn sweaty, but it feels good to push myself. It’s been a while since I’ve had a training partner. Someone to keep the competitive spirit alive.

Outside the windows, the city wakes while we run up imaginary mountains. This isn’t so bad. It’s not a beach run along the coast, but hearing his footsteps slapping the boards next to mine is nice.

Until he increases the incline again.

“You got a death wish?” I mutter.

He huffs a laugh, then uses his towel to wipe his face. “Just figured I needed to up my endurance.”

His eyebrow cocks up. Gotta keep up with Katherine, it seems to say.

He’s not wrong. I jab the button, and my calves wish I didn’t.

And on it goes. We raise and lower the incline and increase and decrease the speed. Maybe it started out as a friendly jog, but Gabriel is competitive to his core. It’s etched into every line on his stupidly handsome face. The way he swings his arms. Squirts water into his mouth. Wipes his chest with the towel.

I almost fall flat on my face when he does that.

How would I explain the rubber burn?

We should probably ease up if we don’t want cramps later. Or if we have any hope of being able to please Katherine tonight. Which is probably a little presumptive of me, but a man’s gotta think ahead.

Gabe’s phone rings, and he slaps the big red stop button.

Oh, thank god!

I lower the speed, trying to act like I’m not dying. And in truth, I should walk this off and have a long sesh with the foam roller.

“Yeah?” He swipes the towel down his face again.

Pecs glistening, he sucks in breath after breath, angling the phone up, away from his mouth, only to drop it back into place again.

“You’re kidding.”

I can tell by his tone that the person on the other end of the line is not, in fact, kidding.

“They’ve got nothing to do with this.” His lips twist. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

I hit the stop button and reach for my water. Holy heck, H20 never tasted so good. And it’s not even from the Alps. But it’s cold and wet, and my lips are parched.

Wiping the sweat from my face with my t-shirt, I watch Gabe. His shoulders are back, and he’s radiating fuck-off energy.

I stalk across the room and grab two bottles of water, then return to his side and swap one for the empty in the cupholder in front of him. He gives me a nod of thanks.

“We’ll discuss it when I get to the office.” He disconnects the call as I’m turning toward the locker room.

Gabe falls into step beside me, removing the cap from his bottle with a vengeful twist. “Paps are scum.”

“What’d they do now?”

“They contacted my family for a quote.”

I’m not really up on his history, but it doesn’t take a psychiatrist to see that he has issues where his family is concerned.

“What did they say?”

He stops and downs the entire bottle. That should not be so fucking hot. But I can’t help myself from watching the strong column of his throat. Or the way his muscles move as he swallows.

Jerking my attention away, I take a sip of my own. But measured because I’m apparently a spaz today, and I don’t want to choke in front of this guy on top of tripping a zillion times.

He heaves out a sigh and crunches the plastic before tossing it into a blue bin. “They said I haven’t spoken to them in years.”

“Is that the truth?”

He glances around.

“No judgment,” I add. We’ve all got our own demons. Probably a few skeletons in the closet. Crazy ghosts from our past.

“It’s the truth.” He stops at the lockers. I follow, not sure if this little heart-to-heart is over or not. “Sauna?”

“Sure.”

Gabe hurtles the hand towel at a hamper, and it misses. I quickly stoop, pluck it up, and drop it into the bin.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” We get changed and stop by the showers to clean up.

Fuck me. The long, lean lines of his torso will haunt my dreams. The curve of his biceps. . . the dark trail beneath his naval. I yank my gaze away and pay attention to where I’m going.

The space is elegant and minimal, with frosted glass partitions and doors. But not one hundred percent private.

I step into the shower, shutting the door before my body gives me away.

What the hell?

I came back for Katherine.

There’s a heavy sigh from the next stall.

I wish I could tell him it gets easier, but it doesn’t. You get better at dodging reporters and figure out some canned answers, but it still feels like an invasion of privacy.

And the more prominent you become, the more personal the questions get.

“You want my advice?” I ask as the water washes my sweat down the drain.

“Give it to me.”

“Let your team handle it. Relay your messages through them. It’s what you pay them for.”

Towels around our waist, we head around the corner. The hot sauna air billows out the door, and luckily, we’re alone. We pick a spot on the back bench.

“I just wish the paps would stay out of it. We went to the auction and donated a hell of a lot of money. Why can’t that be the story?” His nimble fingers fiddle with the towel around his lean hips.

My tongue feels two sizes too big.

And I’m pretty sure I just flat-lined. The gorgeous geek is so adorably casual. I don’t know where Alex is this morning, but it’s obvious Gabe needs a friend. Someone he can trust.

And he picked me.

I nod. “You’d hope the charity would be the story.”

“Maybe that’s what I need to do. Make a statement about the foundation and remind people of all the good work that money is going to do,” he says. Then, “It makes me look bad.”

“What does? Not speaking directly to the piranhas?”

“Not talking to my family. The media will twist it.”

He’s obviously thought a lot about this situation. Maybe even written a few stories in his head.

I run my fingers through my hair.

“I’m sure you have a good reason. Don’t let anyone make you feel guilty about that.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” I tease.

“How’d you get to be so smart?”

“Practice and experience.”

He’s quiet for a few minutes and I tip my head back, letting myself enjoy the moment. Being okay with silence and stillness is an art I’m still perfecting. And let’s be honest, I might never be good at it, but I try.

“Was thinking of going out to the house this week. Maybe rethinking what I want.”

“You should.”

He nods. “Wanna go?”

I roll my head along the wall and take in the billionaire tech tycoon. He doesn’t seem as relaxed as he did earlier. This invitation is important to him. I can see the wheels spinning and the gears grinding. He thinks I might shoot him down. Which is endearing as hell.

I bet no one turns him down these days. Not that I’m going to.

“Absolutely. Just tell me when.” I do love a good design challenge.

His smile is slow and relieved. Then he rubs his hands together and settles back against the wall. “Sure. Now, tell me a secret about Katherine.”