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And while it’s been nice to have him close, to know that he’ll be there when or if I need him, I want him to do things for himself, too. I don’t want him to put his life on hold for me.
Clearing my throat, I drop my feet to the floor and scoot to the edge of the couch. Both men look at me, Chase’s brows raised. “I want to go.”
Roman’s mouth opens again, this time from shock. Chase just grins.
“What?” I breathe, looking between them.
“We stay there for hours,” Roman warns, and I shrug.
“I want to get out of the house.”
“It’s gross and smelly,” he continues. “There are a lot of people.”
I nod, my brows pinching together. “I know what a gym is. I run and do yoga. I’ve been hiking.”
He ignores me, continuing to ramble his warnings. “And he likes to film everything.” He jerks his thumb at Chase, who smirks and shrugs, uncaring.
My heart sinks, but I promise myself that I’ll get over it. I need to respect his boundaries. “I know I just dropped into your life, your home,” I start, swallowing roughly, my mouth dry. “So if you don’t want me to go—”
“No!” Roman blurts, cutting me off. “It’s not that. I just want to make sure it’s what you want.”
My shoulders drop and my lips lift in a little smile.
“It is.” I flick my eyes to Chase. “You do this for a living, don’t you? Could you, I don’t know, train me or something? I don’t know what to do.”
Chase rubs his hands together, giving me a maniacal grin. Roman groans, dropping his head back against the couch.
“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, Evie.”
* * *
“You’re losing muscle,” Chase grumbles, slapping the back of his hand against Roman’s flat stomach. My brows lift and my mouth goes dry as I take him in. Roman lost his shirt half an hour ago, I don’t think Chase ever had one, and seeing all those abs on display is making me stupid.
He doesn’t look like he’s losing muscle to me.
If anything, his abs look more defined than I’ve ever seen them and his shoulders look…
I swallow thickly. He’s built like a god, like he was chiseled from marble. The Statue of David would bow down to Roman. And the tattoos? I’m actually dying.
“On the bench,” Chase commands, pointing at it. “Another set.” Roman glances at me, his face and body dripping with sweat. But there’s a lightness to him I haven’t seen in a long time, and it warms my chest. He needed this. To be here, around all these sweaty, grunting men.
I grin to myself.
“What?” he asks, ignoring Chase as he grabs a towel and wipes his face. Chase grumbles something about calling to check on Oli, and turns his back to us. Roman steps closer to me, his body radiating so much heat, he feels like a furnace.
“Nothing.” I smile up at him from where I sit on a machine. Except for a few people, the gym is surprisingly empty.
“That face doesn’t look like nothing,” he murmurs, pointing at me. My face heats as I shake my head.
“It was just—”
“Ro!” Chase shouts. “Get your ass over here. Your muscles are getting cold. Let’s fucking do this.” Roman takes a deep breath, rolling his eyes.
“Sorry,” he mutters, stooping to press a kiss to my sweaty forehead. He pauses when he pulls back, his eyes scanning my face. “You look beautiful, Goldie.”
I fold my lips between my teeth and drop my eyes to the floor. That’s the other thing he’s been doing a lot—complimenting me. Constantly. I can’t do anything without hearing him praise me.
It shouldn’t turn me into a pile of goo at his feet, but it does, every time.
