Without The Words

Chapter 33

My heart hammered like a machine gun as our sneakers trampled over the plushy grass. Short, raspy breaths puffed out of my dry mouth as we continued to let our legs carry us.

The path was lined with a caged fence on each side, weeds and flowers crawling up to the edges in an uncared for way.

"Damn," Mr. Lee muttered, blowing out a puff of air. He was a couple inches in front of me, and his white shirt rippled from the breeze. I couldn't help but stare at the way his arm muscles flexed. "This is a big hill."

He may have said that, but there was no way he was fooling me. He looked completely fine. His cheeks had a rosy tint and sweat glimmered against his forehead, but besides that he looked as energetic as always.

My calfs were burning and my whole body ached to stop, but I let out an almost inaudible, "yeah."

I would rather dig a grave for myself instead of asking to stop- that would be the ultimate embarrassment and any runner would agree. Stopping represented failure, and I was not about to show him that, even if I had in many other ways before.

We were completely silent, but it was not the silence that caused the tension to ripple within my body. What caused my heart to quickly thud and my hands to shake as if I were scared, was the fact that my thoughts were bringing up dauntingly inappropriate ideas.

What was I supposed to do? With a grassy path and an unmistakably sexy human running beside me, what else is there to think about?

When a human runs, there is nothing completely eventful going on besides the sound of their steps. Of course, the chirp of a bird could echo in the distance or a crowd could roar with cheers from the side, depending on the situation, but one way or another you were always left with the most effective thing- your mind.

In my specific scenario, I was running on a path that kept going uphill. A man with a timer strapped around his wrist passed us in the opposite direction, greeting us with a nod and continuing on his walk. Little daffodils dotted the ground around us, with the occasional vibrant flower that stuck out from the rest. Mr. Lee's breaths were steady and low, while mine resembled a dying animal.

"I think we ran enough for today," Mr. Lee calmly states, abruptly stopping. I stop myself and back up to meet with his scorching gaze. His eyes were an intense shade of blue.

"Yeah," I muttered, looking down at my shoes and doing anything to avoid the sudden discomfort that was radiating off my body. His masculine cologne with a hint of usual peppermint encircled us.

"You've got a leaf stuck in your hair," he said quietly, his eyes glued to the top of my head, an amused smile shaping his lips. A blush spread across my sweaty cheeks.

I placed my hand at the top of my head, but all I felt was my soft hair and the tiny ponytail that stuck out from the back.

"Let me," he said, and immediately the space between us disappears, and I am face to face with him, or, more specifically, his rock hard chest.

I've never wanted him so close to me before in my life. To be honest, I've never craved attention like this from a man. Sex never crossed my mind and I never felt aroused- until now.

Mr. Lee had somehow opened a door in my mind to the dirtiest scenes that I have played out countless times in my head.

Perhaps a part of me changed because of him. I was becoming a typical teenager, but how in the world was I supposed to deal with these scorching desires? Surely they would pass, right? Was it normal for my body to be aching for his touch?

His fingers slowly moved to the top of my head, and they pressed against my scalp. I leaned into his chest and inhaled his masculinity.

Simply and annoyingly fast, he plucked a leaf out of my hair, and then presented his palm to me, where a shriveled maple leaf lay. Hair dusted his large knuckles, and shit, I wanted his hands on me, not my hair.