I feel that line in my knees.
“Yeah,” I say, stepping close, guiding her toward the rack. “I meant it.”
She turns so her back is to me while I set the barbell for squats.
“Comfortable?” I ask.
She steps under and grips the bar. “We’ll see.”
“Hips back,” I murmur, stepping behind her.
She pushes her hips back.
“Good,” I say. “Chest up.”
She lifts her chest, breath hitching, and I’m close.
Close enough to feel heat radiating off her. Not to mention the faint scent of her shampoo.
Damien is glaring holes in the back of my skull.
Whatever.
She lowers into her squat and the movement is so smooth, so strong, so controlled that my mouth actually goes dry.
“Wow,” I say before I can stop myself. “You look incredible.”
“Been practicing my form for you.” She glances over her shoulder, eyes sparking. “Do you have any professional feedback?”
“Definitely not,” I mutter.
Her laugh is low and dangerous.
We do another set.
Then deadlifts.
And she’s…God, she’s unreal today. Focused, playful, and a little wicked.
Every time she bends over the bar, I think Damien might walk over and hand me a termination letter on the spot.
“Elena,” I say, stepping in close as she resets. “You’re gonna get me fired.”
She tilts her head. “What? For lifting properly?”
“For looking like that,” I say before my brain can stop my mouth.
She straightens slowly, smiling like she’s trying to trigger me.
“Oh,” she says. “Maybe you should…control the situation.”
I inhale sharply.
She’s playing with fire.
And I am the fire, but Damien is still watching, so I force my tone calm.
“I’m serious,” I say quietly. “This outfit is driving me insane.”
