FIT: #1 in the Fit Trilogy (12 page)

Violet closed her eyes as Grant dipped into his closet. She tried to relax and pull herself together as she felt the mattress dip at the foot of the bed and he put his sneakers back on. But she failed at finding a single semblance of calm as she heard the front door close and lock behind him. When she knew he was gone, Violet started to cry.

✶

When she woke up, she had a wicked case of dry mouth. Still, Violet felt much better. Never again would she set foot near a group class of any kind. Even if the fate of her heart was at stake. She rolled over to reach for the water and realized Grant was sitting on the bed, right beside her.

“Hi,” he said, handing her the glass.

“Hey. Thanks.” She took it and chugged the water down.

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better. Thank you.”

“Violet, I know I should have just kicked you out of the class, but what were you doing this morning?”

“Being an idiot. But really? I was backpedaling,” she said. Then she spit out the rest, just in case she had to pass out again, this time from embarrassment. “That’s what I’m doing. I thought one thing and I was wrong, and now I’m thinking another. I don’t want to be your client anymore. I don’t want to train with you. You’re not the guy I want to help me lose weight. You’re the guy I want to be my boyfriend. I would like us to date.”

“I charge more for that, you know.”

Violet almost sighed with relief. It wasn’t a yes, or a you’re forgiven, but a small smile was trying to creep out from under that blond mustache. “Figured you would. Grant, I’m so sorry. My entire life has been work and people from work. I forgot what it was like to have a life of my own.”

He sighed and lay down on the bed beside her. He lightly brushed his lips across her forehead. “What am I going to do with you, Miss Ryan?” he whispered.

“Miss Ryan? Does this mean you forgive me?”

“No. I’m still pissed.”

“Oh.”

“But I think you must be pretty serious to go through that intense of a workout just to talk to me.”

“I was. I am. I’ve never jumped into something with a guy this way. I guess I almost expected something fishy under the surface, but that’s not your fault and it wasn’t fair for me to act like it was.”

“You’re not all wrong. I think I should have courted you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I should have set you up with Armando. He’d train you just as well as me. And then I should have asked you out. And then I should have asked you to be my submitter.”

“Would there have been any singing involved?”

“All kinds of singing. You know that day you kicked me to the curb, I was about to ask you out. I talked to Master Philip about how to make my interest in bondage and submission easier for you, and I even told Armando what I planned to do. You got the check?”

Violet wanted to crawl under the bed and die. “Yes.”

“I had it ready in the office when you showed up. I was going to give you your money back because I didn’t want to charge you to spend time with me when I was more than happy to start my day with you.” Grant’s lips brushed her forehead again and Violet knew this was exactly where she belonged.

“Will you please forgive me and be my boyfriend and boss me around? You can tie me up whenever you want. I won’t complain too much, I swear.”

“Miss Ryan, you can complain all you want.”

Day 43

The minute their AD called lunch, Violet nearly vaulted over the back of her chair and ran out of the tech trailer. She power walked down the clanky metal steps then hit the button on her walkie-talkie and called for the office production assistant.

“Go for Brenna,” a soft voice answered.

“Hey, Brenna is my one o’clock here?”

“Yes. He drove on a few minutes ago. He said he’d wait for you outside the elephant doors.”

“Copy.”

Violet made a U-turn around a forklift that was still haphazardly parked outside of the trailer and made straight for the soundstage doors. They were only in their second week of filming
Perfect Cut
. It had been a rough one. Problems from every department. Cast that she wanted to murder and production meetings that ran longer than they had any right to. But every night, when she left the studio lot, there was Grant. They tried to take things slowly, going on actual dates, trying to space out their time between seeing each other, like normal people do, but that didn’t work. She was at his place every single night. And when he could get away during the day, he came to her.

They continued to work out together and, so far, Violet managed to shed a few more pounds, but now she was focused more on her overall wellness, not just her weight. Grant helped with that too. They managed to talk out their differences. Violet admitted her eagerness to learn more about being a submissive, but she hadn’t worked up the courage to go with Grant to his club. Still, he was patient with her and she was starting to love him for that patience more and more.

Violet rounded another hedge and that’s when she saw him, standing by the elephant door. Talking to Faye. She walked right over and plucked the paper bag out of his hand. They didn’t need to stop talking for Violet to enjoy her lunch.

“Nice to see you, too,” Grant said.

“She’s an ungrateful asshole. I wish Patrick would bring me lunch.”

Violet scoffed. “He’s taking you to Paris. Let me have my sandwich.”

“As if this one wouldn’t take you to Paris. As if!” Faye winked at them both then wandered off to join the line at catering.

Violet automatically stepped into Grant’s arms, perched up on her tiptoes so she could greet him with the tender affection he deserved. She realized it was a huge mistake the second their lips met. She had another six hours of work ahead of her, but all she wanted to do was drag him to the closest empty room and repeat what they had done in the bathroom, and the kitchen, the night before. Her inner thighs were still sore. He smelled so good and even though it was easily eighty degrees outside, she felt warmer when they touched.

Grant pulled back a bit and kissed her nose. “You want me to take you to Paris, Miss Ryan?”

“No. I want you to take me home. There’s this chef from Boston in this episode and he’s driving us all up the wall. I just want this day to be over.”

“Well at least I brought you a healthy lunch. All your veggies and chicken on wheat bread so whole it was just harvested, and a salad.”

“Thank you. They’re having beef tacos again. I couldn’t do it.”

Grant had to leave soon and she had to eat and get back into the tech trailer for the second half of her torturous day, but she still took the time to walk him back to his car. She held his hand. “Do you want to know what I have planned for this weekend?” Grant asked. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“Surprise. Just tell me what shoes I need to wear. Sneakers, heels, sandals, wellies?”

“Yeah, wellies. No, wear some heels. And do you still have that lace dress?”

“I sure do.”

“You should bust that out.”

“For you, baby.” She leaned up and kissed him one more time. “Anything.”

The End

Coming September 2014…

Tamed

(#2 in the Fit Trilogy)

About the Author

Rebekah was raised in Southern New Hampshire and now lives in Southern California with a great human, one cat whom she loves dearly and another cat she wants to take back to the shelter.

Her interests include Wonder Woman collectibles, cookies, James Taylor, quality hip-hop, football, American muscle cars, large breed dogs, and the ocean. When she's not working, writing, reading, or sleeping, she is watching Ken Burns documentaries and cartoons or taking dance classes. If given the chance, she will cheat at UNO.

You can find more stories by Rebekah at
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Copyright © 2014 Rebekah Weatherspoon
 

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the author.

First Edition: June 2014

Credits

Editor: Anya Richards

Cover Design by Awesomesauce Designs

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental.