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“Yeah, but if I’m just laying there like a loaf of banana bread the whole time, I won’t get to boss you around. And I like to be in charge sometimes.”
“Can’t argue with you there. I like it when you boss me around.” He grins and palms my ass. “Sometimes.”
When I woke up hurting from last night’s vigorous sex session, I announced definitively to Harry that I was heading to the gym. He wanted to come along with me. But, it’s riskier than ever for us to be seen together. Especially at the Paragons workout facility or the public gym on the other side of that building.
So Harry suggested that we jump on the highway and come to the quiet gym here in Honey Hill. I agreed. Because I just couldn’t pass up seeing him strut around the gym in a pair of gray sweatpants. When we arrived, only a handful of people had been milling around the building so I knew instantly that we’d made the right choice in coming here.
We are scarily low on sleep after fucking like drunken jackhammers all night but Harry seems to be coping with it far better than I am. Damn you, professional athlete with your superhuman muscles and your stamina.
Sweat beads off me as I hop up on the stair climber. It’s the least intimidating machine here at this low-key gym. Or at least I thought it was. Seventeen flights into my workout, and I’m growing concerned about the lack of feeling in my legs.
But I’m not leaving. I’ve decided that the best thing about this death machine is the five-star view it offers. From my perch here, a good four feet above ground level, I’m rewarded with a fantastic view of Harry—and his sweatpants-hugging bum—as he works out.
Ogling him shamelessly, I get lost in my thoughts. After Harry fell asleep last night, I was up for hours, combing through his contract, looking for a loophole, trying to build a case that will convince Liam to change his mind, searching for a way to get us out of this mess.
Shit—should I tell Harry the truth? Should I tell him that Liam wants to trade him? I really, really,reallywant to tell him.
I love this man and I don’t want to keep him in the dark. But I have a legally-binding obligation to keep my boss’s intention confidential until the right moment. There could be a whole host of very unpleasant consequences if I tell Harry something I shouldn’t.
What the hell am I going to do?
I feel like the ultimate dirtbag, keeping this to myself. But telling him the truth isn’t an option. So I keep searching. Keep reading his contract back and forth every chance I get, combing through it searching for a life raft. Anything to prevent the inevitable from happening.
Right now, my tired brain offers me no answers. So instead, I try focusing on the moment and shutting out all my worries.
Harry spends quite a while on the punching bag.ThatI thoroughly enjoy. Is boxing porn a thing? It should be.
After my sexy husband finishes kicking the shit out of that leather bag, he works out with the sand bags and battle ropes. I nearly fall off my machine.Oh my god. Is this man a gladiator? Is he training for war?
I look on with interest as he makes his way around the rest of the machines. Each one makes me more tingly than the last, but that might be his fault. Even though he’s thoroughly dedicated to his workout, he’s constantly looking at me.
At the chest press thingy? He winks at me.
Working those dumbbells like a boss? He stares at me while licking his lips.
Headed to the drinking fountain? He swats me on the butt.
I can’t figure out if I’m ridiculously turned onor if I’m just sweating profusely in places that I don’t care to mention out loud. TMI? Probably.
I steal a swig from Harry’s favorite jug. His workout mix is…intense. But the taste is starting to grow on me. I could definitely get used to it. And I like the burst of energy the drink gives me.
Wherever he goes, Harry is undressing me with those dark, flirty eyes. A painful ripple of fear moves through my heart. I’m going to lose him. If I can’t figure out a way to fix this whole mess, Liam is going to trade him. And he’ll move across the country. And he’ll hate me for knowing and not telling him.
But I can’t tell him. Anything Liam tells me in my role as in-house counsel for the Paragons is protected by lawyer-client privilege. So even if Harry is my husband, I can’t betray my obligation to my boss.
Being married to a guy that is so sweet, caring, unselfish.And romantic?I thought romantic men were a myth until I met Harry. The sex. All the unbelievable sex.
And don’t even let me get started on the man’s family. They’re all perfect and hilarious and welcoming.
All of it is on the line.
When my legs finally give out, I wobble all the way over to where Harry is.
I sneak up behind him, covering his eyes as he stretches his deliciously thick quads. “Guess who?”
“Kate Beckinsale?”
I smack his shoulder. “I wish. If she was here, I’d be trading you in and switching teams, stud.”
