was going to bust right out of my chest. There was no way
was going to bust right out of my chest. There was no way
I could spare any for my clitoris.
His treadmil beeped to indicate the end of his program.
He slowed, grabbed his towel and wiped his face as he
climbed off. He drank thirstily from his water bottle. When
he bent to touch his toes, I groaned aloud. This guy's ass
was like two cantaloupes in a silk bag.
He looked up with a smal grin, as if he could read my
dirty mind. I hoped he couldn't. No, damn, I hoped he
could.
'You al right?'
'…fine…'
I was, in fact, almost a puddle of overexercised goo. My
machine beeped a minute later, my program over. I wiped
my face and drank water, too, but I didn't try any sort of
bending. I'd have passed out.
He'd moved to the tension machine, but hadn't yet begun.
He gestured to me, instead. 'C'mere. Try this.'
'Oh, I don't think so.' I shook my head even as my feet
folowed the siren cal of muscled thighs and an irresistible
folowed the siren cal of muscled thighs and an irresistible
set of back dimples.
'You can't just do cardio,' the guy said. 'You need to do strength training, too. Tone up.'
I thought about being insulted, but let's face it. When
Adonis is critiquing your body, he probably knows what
he's talking about. 'Okay.'
'Sit.'
I did. He adjusted something in the back and puled down
the rods on either side so I could slip my hands into the
grips. Across from us, the mirrored wal reflected him
standing behind me as he explained how to pul the grips to
move the weights.
With my feet hooked under the padded bench and my
hands holding the grips, I was effectively imprisoned. He
put his hands over mine the first few times to get me used
to the rhythm. It was easy enough, working my arms, since
my legs stil trembled from the stint on the treadmil.
'Good job,' my new trainer-cum-boyfriend said.
His tone suggested he might pat me on the head. Instead,
His tone suggested he might pat me on the head. Instead,
he let go of my hands and put his on my sides. His fingers
curved around my ribs just below my breasts. I drew in a
sharp breath and didn't move at first.
'Keep going.' In the mirror his eyes met mine. 'Feel how the muscles in your abs are working, too?'
I couldn't feel anything but his fingers inching upward. My
nipples stabbed through my sports bra and the thin, damp-
with-sweat cotton of my T-shirt. Between my legs a slow,
steady throb began with every pul and release of the
weights. I couldn't see his body behind me, could only feel
