Coming here had been a terribly, utterly, completely idiotic decision on her part.
That was what rubbed salt into the metaphorical wound—the fact that she had no one else but herself to blame for this idiocy, for this (hopefully) temporary lapse in sanity.
Because really, what business could she possibly have here? Sure, she had the authority—she had the most authority—but this was... rather below her position. This was something the night custodian should be able to take care of—she was far too busy and important to waste her time kicking some simpleton out of the building gym after hours.
She still had time—not to mention ample opportunity—to leave and not bother with it at all. She could turn on her impeccably stylish heel and disappear into the night, unnoticed and with her dignity for the most part intact.
That was another decision to be made, one that she should make for her own sake. However, the momentary lapse in sanity proved to be a little more than merely temporary.
And so she found herself making a slew of decisions she absolutely should not be making.
Decisions such as deftly stepping out of her heels so she would not be heard in her illicit, secretive approach. Decisions such as tip toeing in the dark towards the gym that should have been long closed. Decisions such as standing right by the door, hidden by the shadows, to take in the scene before her.
The first detail her mind latched on to was the sound. That distinct sound of air leaving from and returning to a powerful set of lungs through rhythmic grunts and exhalations, breaths expertly time with the rise and fall of a strong body being hoisted up and down over a metal bar with unparalleled strength and a desperately alluring control of said strength. It was mesmerizing, completely entrancing, and Regina felt her lips parting just enough to let out a breath, which came raggedly out of her own lungs, lost to the darkness and sounds of the gym.
The second detail her treacherous brain decided to latch on to was the scent... She would be forever mortified to admit it, even to herself, but there was something about the unmistakeable scent of sweat in that filthy, disgusting gym that just... got to her, somehow, in a primal sort of way that instantly awakened her senses, setting her body alight with a not so unfamiliar desire that frankly defied all sense, logic, and, of course, propriety.
The final nail in the coffin, the pièce de résistance that signalled her impending doom came in the form of two exquisitely toned arms, moving effortlessly to pull that body up and down, muscles rippling with practiced effort under smooth, decadent skin covered in a sheen of sweat that made it glisten tantalizingly in the low light of the gym. Those enticing arms moved in perfect tandem, their repetitive, rhythmic action making strands of golden hair cascade down a muscular back that was covered only by a plain grey tank top.
Regina didn't know how long she had been standing there. She didn't even know how long exactly Emma had been so diligently at it, but she wished the other woman would never, ever stop.
Indeed, Emma continued her workout for what felt like an utterly impossible eternity—just how strong were those arms, really—before she finally lowered herself down to the ground, landing with a well-practiced, graceful hop. She shook her arms at her sides after the intense workout, and Regina held in a gasp.
"How long have you been standing there?"
The playfully smug observation was delivered with quite some cheek, and it released the gasp Regina had been holding. Emma towelled off some of her sweat, and though her back was turned, Regina knew quite well the blonde sported an infuriatingly smug smirk.
Regina cleared her throat, trying to regain some of her composure after being caught so blatantly. She was about to form a retort when Emma turned around, confirming her suspicions about the aforementioned smirk.
"You know," the blonde quipped a little too knowingly, "it's rude to stare."
Regina straightened, suddenly aware that she had lost all of her dignity along with her composure. She must look ridiculous, holding her heels at her side and going barefoot, standing by the door and looking in so overtly.
"You're well aware no one's allowed in the building after hours," she drawled, fighting to keep her tone even—no, cold—no, disapproving.
"I called in a favour," was Emma's cheeky reply. Regina bristled.
"I don't care, honestly," she hissed. "Leave. Immediately."
Emma raised a brow, then leaned against the pull-up bars. She crossed her arms at her chest and, oh, Regina swallowed, throat suddenly parched—they were like marble, exquisitely carved marble, and Regina found herself wishing to run her hands over those tantalizing muscles.
Emma's smirk widened.
"Make me."