And now that it’s off-season for me, we’ve been hitting the gym even more. Which means I get this view…a lot. Either he’s gotten over his aversion to hanging his suit in a locker or he does it to torture me. My bet’s on the latter. Right now, he’s standing by the bench pulling a pair of training shorts from his bag, the muscles in his legs flexing as he shifts his weight.
My eyes drop to the prize wrapped in those white boxer briefs. A large bulge shifts as he moves, the cotton stretching over it, and is that…yep, that’s head outline. I swallow the words I want to say.
Jesus Christ. It’s borderline obscene. I drag my eyes up before I start looking like the creeper I absolutely am. The worst part of this situation? I wish things were different.
I wish I could just say the words.
Yeah, Spence. I’m staring because you’re hot as hell and I’d very much like to climb you and stuff all that dick inside my aching hole.
But life doesn’t work like that. Not for me. So instead, I do what I always do—flirt. Relentlessly. But always wrapped in sarcasm. Always just ambiguous enough that I can laugh it off if Spence ever calls me on it. I dance right up to the line of being obvious and then toe it, leaving that little question mark hanging between us.
But if I’m being honest? Part of me is hoping he’ll cross the line. Because if Spencer Stark ever actually made a move on me? I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to say no. Deep down, I think that’s exactly what I want, consequences be damned. To have the choice made for me.
Spence snaps his gym shorts over his hips after dragging them up over those ridiculous thighs, and I finally remember he asked me a question. Right. The agency. The non-profit.
I lean back against the locker, crossing my arms like I’m completely unaffected by the half-naked gorgeous man two feetaway from me. “Sorry,” I say with a shrug. “I was sworn to secrecy, Spencester. And I’m a good secret keeper.”
He rolls his deep blue eyes in that way he does when he thinks I’m being particularly annoying.
Which is often.
“Whatever,” he mutters as he grabs his water bottle and slams his locker shut. “Let’s go warm up.”
I grin, pushing off the locker and falling into step beside him. “Oh, we need warming up?” I say lightly. “Because I was already feeling warm and tingly watching you change.”
Spence pauses mid-stride and slowly turns his head toward me with a look that lands somewhere between suspicious and exhausted. “Ryan.”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t deal with you.”
I flash him my most innocent smile. “Yet here you are,” I say, walking toward the weight floor beside him. “My favorite workout partner.”
He huffs under his breath, shaking his head, but I catch the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Honestly, it’s almost as good as the view in the locker room.
Spence’s mood lightens through our workout. A little cardio followed by a rigorous leg routine always gets the endorphins flowing.
“One more,” I mutter to myself through clenched teeth as I drop into the bottom of my last squat, thighs burning. My legs shake as I push up. Halfway through the movement, I watch in the mirror as Spence moves in behind me. His hands hover near the bar, and his body presses closer as he spots me.
My entire nervous system short-circuits, because the man of my wet dreams isveryclose. Close enough that I feel the heat of his body. Close enough that his chest brushes my back. Mygrip nearly slips when I feel something heavy and solid pressing against my ass.
My brain explodes into static when Spence’s voice comes in low behind me. “You got it.”
Do I?
Because right now, I’m trying very hard not to die. I force the bar up the rest of the way, legs trembling, and rack it with a loudclank. For a second, I just stand there, breathing hard. Then I turn around, and he’s stillright there, all up in my space.
His chest rises and falls, a faint sheen of sweat along his collarbones, dark hair slightly mussed from the workout. It does not help that he’s looking at me the way he always does. Intensely. He holds out a bottle of water. “Looking thirsty there, Ryan.”
I take the bottle, and I can feel his eyes on me as I swallow, and I have to actively stop myself from shivering like a horny teenager. Jesus. Get it together. I twist the cap and take another long drink, mostly to buy myself a second.
Spence tilts his head. “Can I ask you a question?”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Sure thing, Spencester.”
His eyes narrow. “I told you to stop calling me that.”
I shrug it off. “And I told you not until I find another nickname for you.”
