Page 34 of The Replay

Cora: I can't make it to NYC, but I have Christmas marked in my calendar already. The Strike's calendar will allow for a few short days around the 25th, in-between Mariana's events.

Mariana: Let us know if you can make it to Seattle earlier, and hopefully we'll sneak in some time then. I've been very busy coordinating the team's foundation expansion and the big events at the end of the year.

Mom: Time flies by when you work hard, and it seems you hit the ground running. Good. It'll make your brief time away from the family business worth it.

Mariana: Oh, I'm going to make it worth it, you'll see.

Chapter 12

Mariana

Dom and I take a few official pictures with the research crew getting the Strike's donation. We stand next to each other, smiling at the camera, and pretending we're perfectly civil colleagues. The kind that don't really look each other in the eyes, for some reason. Not that anyone notices.

No one comments when it's time for the fake data collection shoot, and I hover nearby without really interacting. I say nothing when they ask him to take off his shirt and prepare to run wearing only his shorts. I don't look— too much— when they're gluing stickers to his chest, from which thin cables hang and send information about his vitals to a machine. No one pays attention to me as I take my phone out, point it at Dom, and sigh.

I finally start loosening up while he runs and runs on the treadmill. It's the fourth sprint he zooms through. This is more about aesthetics than research, so he doesn't have a mask. The concentration on his face is completely visible. Nothing blocks the sounds of his hard breathing.

I'm recording, but I'm having trouble looking at him. I pretend disinterest. The guy wearing a blue polo and tan khakis, who holds a tablet and does his bestto look smart, is an easy target for my attention. Or the computer beeping that displays graphs and numbers in multiple colors. Even the three guys filming with much better cameras than my phone, and their neutral faces because they're here only to do their job.

That should be my goal. Neutrality. Only here to do my job. Not here to get all hot and bothered because an attractive man is breathing like he's pushing his body to the limits, and it's making me think of how good things were for us when he pushed his body to the limits… With me.

Hard breathing. Groans. Dirty talking. Dom wasn't a quiet man in bed.

And last week, when he manhandled me in my office, I would have let him do more.

God, he was so hard. He enveloped me in that dreamy body and that incredible smell, and my body remembered too well what those signs usually meant. It wasn't a conscious choice to grind against him. I just needed more of that cock. So much so, I could feel myself getting slick and soaking my underwear. And, had he not been an ass about it, I would have turned and demanded to be filled and given something to clench around.

To be in his arms again brought me back to a better time. My body remembered that too— the freedom to melt, to let myself be held, and rest in the knowledge I could let go. I could be myself. Show my underbelly, because all he would do was kiss me and tell me he had me.

Good thing he was enough of a dick that my eyes were opened. Literally and metaphorically. His words brought me back to the present and I was able to push him away. If I hadn't…

No. I don't want to think about it. I am not going to break. Seattle is a pit stop in a larger plan, and my happiness isn't in a quick romp with my ex. Unless we need one more time to get it out of our systems…

No, Mariana. No.

"Aaaand… you can stop," the guy in the polo shirt says.

I wish I could stop, too.

Dom lands with his feet on the sides of the treadmill. It's a swift, competent move. He grabs the handle bars and hangs his head, eyes closed as he catches his breath. Something tells me Evie would want me to get close and personal. Record him in a close up, catching the kind of details that would make thirsty fans go wild on social media. Sorry, Evie. No can do. I'm too thirsty to manage, and I can't ever get close enough for him to see me so fucking dehydrated.

I told him we wouldn't fuck. I told him I wouldn't ask for it. I will remain strong and prove I meant it. That's what I'm about these days. Showing I know what I'm doing, and that I'm thriving in the life I'm creating where every choice is mine.

They give him a towel. I stop recording and adjust the bag around my shoulder.

"You got any results, there?" Dom asks the university people around him. "I know I won't get the full picture, but just for fun. Make this count somehow, you know?"

"We don't have the oxygen use, as you didn't have the mask," Polo Guy replies. I forgot his name. "But I can tell you your heart looks pretty strong."

Dom glances at me. "I've heard that's what happens when you make it endure a lot."

I roll my eyes. Inside, my heart aches. I'm putting it through a lot, too.

What happened in my office was sexy because it took me to the past. It brought back memories of who Dom is underneath— who he was back then. Despite knowing better, something in me misses… could miss… who he was.

The thought doesn't fully settle in my mind when my phone rings. It's my mom. A familiar worry pit opens in my stomach. I press my bag against my ribs, walk to the side of the room, and answer.

"Hola, mamá."