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While she may have gotten one type of ‘rise’ out of me, I sure as hell am not going to let her know that she got another, the one that she wanted. Crossing my arms, I lean against the door frame. If she doesn’t care, who am I not to watch and enjoy the show? Every movement is an even bigger turn-on, even though she’s putting on clothes, not taking them off.
I am so fixated on the memories of being buried inside her, I don’t even realize she’s finished and standing in front of me.
“I’m ready.”
I’m ready, too, just not to go to the gym anymore.
When we arrive at Gabe’s, the place is empty. I remember working out here as a kid. The equipment seemed so much bigger then. Looking at them, I’d thought there was no way in hell would I ever be able to lift more than a few plates. Now, the place seems so small. Unprofessional. Yet somehow, we’re supposed to make this work the same as the high-end gym where I’d been working out with Todd.
Setting my stuff down on the bench, I stand in front of Lexie awaiting my instruction. If she wants to be my therapist, she better get her ass to work.
“Before we get started, I think we should talk.”
“I disagree. We’re here to do therapy. Let’s do it.”
“Carter…”
“No. I’m not doing this, Lexie. You’re here to provide me therapy. Either do your job, or I’ll ask your father to find someone else who will.”
Her eyes have been a myriad of emotions all morning. Right now, they’re filled with an undeniable anger. Shouldn’t I be the one who’s pissed? I’m the one that was lied to, deceived, hurt. She did this, not me.
“Twenty minutes on the elliptical.”
I do as she says. Not only because I want to rehab my arm, but because I need to get back into Coach’s good graces, and the only way to do that is by following his orders.
So, I do the elliptical to warm up. When my twenty minutes are up, Lexie is still messing with whatever she’s setting up, so I head over to the weight area and sit down at the chest press machine.
Being here by myself, without a trainer around to stop me, I begin doing some additional work on my shoulder. The chest press machine allows me to keep the strength in my chest while moving my shoulder. The best part is, I can only do five pounds. While it makes me feel like a goddamn pussy, it’s all I can do, so I deal with it. Baby steps.
Lexie sees me and storms in my direction. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“What does it look like?” I ask, matching the harshness in her voice.
“You can’t lift. Your shoulder’s not in good enough shape yet,” she says, as if I didn’t know my arm is injured.
“I know what I’m doing.”
“You are not doing this.”
“Oh, yeah? Who’s going to stop me?”
Lexie plants herself in front of me. She’s tall for a woman. Something I assume she gets from her father who’s even taller than me. Her perfectly toned, firm but soft in all the right places body is strong. Still, she couldn’t stop me if she tried.
Defiance radiates off her.
“I’m your trainer whether or not you like it. I am here to help heal your arm, and that’s what I intend to do. If that means I have to stop you from being an idiot and hurting yourself even more, that’s what I’m going to do… by any means necessary.”
I laugh in her face, then turn back to the machine.
In a flash, Lexie’s hand is on my shoulder. She digs her fingers into a spot that damn near brings me to my knees.
“What the fuck?” I cry out.
“Hate me all you want Carter, but don’t fuck your arm up more just to spite me.”
Staring at each other, tension radiates between us—sexual tension.
Who the fuck would have thought a woman taking charge and yelling at me would be such a turn-on?
