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Roman drops the weights with a heavy clang and sits up so fast I stumble backward.

His hand closes around my wrist. “Careful what you wish for.”

My free hand lands on his shoulder.

For a second, I stand there, lost in his eyes. Unable to speak. Or breathe.

Well. This is considerably better than watching him exercise.

Roman's fingers flex.

My stomach tightens.

“Hi,” I whisper.

His nostrils flare. “You should move.”

He doesn’t let go.

I smile. “Still think I should move?”

“Yes.”

I look pointedly at his hand. “Interesting.”

Roman immediately releases me.

I laugh. “Asshole.”

“You're the one sexually harassing me at the gym.”

I grin. “I haven't even started sexually harassing you.”

“That's what concerns me.”

Roman stands.

He's so close I have to tilt my head back.

“Are you done?” he asks.

“With what?”

“Working out.”

“No.”

“Good.”

My eyes narrow. “Why?”

“You had dumbbells in your hands when you sat on my face.”

“Yeah?”

“You said you were doing squats.”

“Until I sat on you.”