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Is he going to call me ugly? Is he going to say I’m not the sort of girl who could win any sporting event?
“Because you were acting so adorably nervous when you told me.”
Adorably nervous.
The words bounce around my mind, thunder through my body, pebbling my nipples, making my clit rub tantalizing against my underwear. I let out a shivering breath, and then cut it short, hoping he didn’t hear.
Luckily he’s turned toward the door, stalking into the gym, leaving me to study the broadness of his back, the tight ropes of his muscles.
His words won’t stop repeating in my head in his deep baritone.
Adorably nervous.
That sounds like something a man says when he’s attracted to a woman, doesn’t it? Or is that just my mind going to crazy places?
He can probably just tell I’m nervous and is just trying to put me at ease. Just because he used the word adorably, it doesn’t mean he wants me. It doesn’t mean he’s thinking about me the same way I’m thinking about him.
Heck, I need to focus on the workout session.
Hopefully, I can get through this without making any more dorky comments.
He stares at me from the other side of the gym, his hands hanging at his sides like weapons he’s waiting to use… like tools he can’t wait to apply on me.
“Are you coming, Rosie?”
“Yes.” I take a step forward and inject some confidence into my voice. False or not, it’s better than nothing. “Ryker.”
Chapter Five
Ryker
I’m so damn grateful my sweatpants are dark colored when she says my name, standing on the other side of the room with that sassy tilt to her head. She’s wearing a purple sports shirt and baggy sweatpants, letting my gaze consume the shape of her body, the way her breasts press against the fabric of her shirt almost screams at me to take them in my hands.
My manhood is solid steel, fucking hard, harder than I can ever remember being. My rod is so full of need the base throbs and the helm pulses, hence why I’m glad for the color of my sweatpants.
But if she looks closely she’ll realize the effect she’s having on me.
I stand near the treadmill, staring across the room at her. Her hair is in a ponytail, pulled back from her face, revealing her full flushed features.
She’s wearing no makeup, letting her natural beauty shine. And that way she has of biting her lip.
Fuck.
All I want to do is charge over to her, grab a fistful of that ponytail, guide her lips to mine and kiss her fully, kiss her passionately until she can feel every insane notion storming through my body, my soul.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
My soul?
I need to calm down and focus on my job. She’d probably sprint for the door if she knew even half the crazy thoughts in my head.
“I thought we’d start with a little session on the exercise bike to get warmed up.”
“Cycling in place and never getting anywhere. That sounds about right,” she says.
I laugh again, finding it far easier with her than I do with anyone, even mom and dad. And Zane, back in the day, before he showed his true nature.
“That sounds like a very pessimistic view of life for somebody so young,” I banter, strolling over to the exercise bikes.
She shoots me a look and tosses her head. But something rings false about the gesture. It’s like she’s playing a role, acting up to mask her true feelings.
I called her adorably nervous and I meant it, and now I’m certain.
Perhaps she thinks her body isn’t suited for the gym. Perhaps she’s letting silly thoughts enter that pretty head of hers.
The beast inside of me howls at the notion, telling me to grab her and shove her up against the wall and show her just how beautiful she is.
“You’re perfect the way you are,” I growl, bringing my face to hers. “But if I were to suggest anything, it’s that we focus on exercises that make that ass even plumper, and those thighs even thicker and more delicious.”
I let out a sigh, trying to block out those thoughts. If I keep going my manhood won’t be able to take it. I’ll erupt like a monster and explode out of my sweatpants.
Luckily she’s busy climbing onto the bike, so I don’t think she notices how close to the edge I am.
“Okay, now I just start pedaling?” she asks, her words coming out in one long rush, letting me know she really is nervous.
It’s like I can scent her nervousness in the air, like the chained animal inside of me is roaring to smooth my hands up her shoulders and through her hair, rubbing tenderly as I tell her it’s going to be okay.
She never has to be nervous again. She never has to be shy.
