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“Kate, wrap your legs around his waist,” Blake orders from below.
She can’t be serious.
I don’t move, forcing myself to hold strong even though my palms are sweating.
“Kate, ya good?” Mack prods, his voice quiet. So quiet it’s only meant for me.
I peek up at him, those blue eyes melting my reservations one millisecond at a time.
“Yeah,” I breathe out. “I’m good.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Pretty sure you’ve asked me that question before.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t like your answer the first time. Do you trust me, Kate?” he repeats.
I smile softly. “Yes.”
He lets go of the bar with his left hand and reaches for my upper thigh, hiking it up and wrapping it around his waist. He grabs the bar again, and I wrap my other leg around him.
If I thought this might be a minorly precarious situation before, the warning bells are officially on full-blown siren mode. Because I can feel him. All of him. Against my lady bits. And he’s…
I gulp. Yup. He’s hard.
“On the count of three, we do a pull-up,” he orders, his breath brushing against my red cheeks. “Okay?”
I nod and force my hips to keep from grinding against him, no matter how impossible it feels. But it’s been so long. So long since I’ve felt connected to someone. So long since I’ve even wanted to feel connected to someone. And this? Feeling Macklin at my literal core? It’s the best form of torture a girl could ask for. If only I could put myself out of my misery, preferably on his erection.
“One,” Mack murmurs. His cock twitches against me. “Two.” I shift slightly, my clit pulsing as I stifle my moan. “Three.”
He pulls up on the bar, taking my dead weight with him as I remember to actually use my muscles to help him.
It’s official. The guy’s ripped. It’s the only conclusion I can make considering the circumstances because I’m most definitely not lifting my body weight, and I’m most definitely not a twig, either. Not compared to every other girl at this gym. But Mack’s taking it in stride, lifting us both as I attempt to do my part despite knowing it’s barely a drop in the bucket.
It’s nice. Feeling small. I’m not sure if it’s some weird, evolutionary kink he’s tapping into or what, but I’ve never been more turned on in my life. And call it a hunch, but I’m pretty sure he’s enjoying this exercise too. My nipples rub against his chest as we go up and down, his dick nestled between my thighs, his breath kissing my cheeks. A soft sheen of sweat clings to his forehead, the tiny, rhythmic grunts clawing up his throat as he lifts us again and again.
Yup. It’s official. This is the most erotic moment of my life. It’s all downhill from here. But what a way to go.
Mia’s right. I’m totally using this for my spank bank later. I don’t care how inappropriate it is. Hell, part of me wants to drag him off to the locker room to ease the ache in my core. I wonder if––
“And that’s ten,” Blake announces. “Good job, guys!”
Her sharp feminine voice cuts through the lustful haze in my brain, and I unhook my ankles from around Mack. He lets go of the bar and lands on his feet, grabbing my hips and softening my fall like a damn knight in shining armor as I let go of the pull-up bar.
Once I’m on my feet, I look up at him and suck my cheeks between my molars, unsure what to say or do now that I know what it’s like to feel him––all of him––moving against me.
“You busy Friday night, Kate?” he rasps. And damn the sound. His voice. Smooth, yet rough. Low and throaty.
Wait. What were we talking about? Oh. Yeah. He asked if I’m busy.
“Friday? Uh, I don’t think so?”
“Wanna go out with me?”
“As what? Friends? Or…?” My voice trails off. But I need to know. I need him to spell it out for me. I need clarity, especially when my brain is still lost in a haze of desire. In the feel of his hands on my waist. His breath against my cheeks.
He frowns, his attention slipping to my lips as he towers over me. “I’m too old to play games with you, Kate. I want to take you on a date. Where you get dressed up, I pick you up at your house, and we eat food and get to know each other.”
