Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
He does a few more in quick succession before he slows down a little, grunting slightly with each move. I wonder what it would look like without his sweater on.
Are his muscles bulging? Is he sweaty all over? I’m mesmerized by watching his strength and endurance, only snapping out of it when he places the bar back on the rack attached to the bench and sits up.
“Are you just gonna watch me the entire time?”
Shit. I just now realize I haven’t moved. I’ve been so occupied by ogling him like a hormonal teenager, I lost complete awareness of what I’m doing.
“Ah, no. Um, I’m here to work out.”
Quinton lifts one eyebrow and stares me down for another moment before my legs finally start moving. I spin around and scan the area for something to do. I settle on the treadmill on the other side of the gym. It’s one open space, so there is no place we wouldn’t see each other, but at least there is a good amount of distance between us.
I only run for a few minutes to warm up and get my heart rate going. When my breathing gets heavy and my legs ache, I slow down the treadmill and walk for another minute.
My eyes keep glancing across the room at Quinton, even though I try my best not to. When he gets up and wipes down the bench, I think he might leave, and disappointment creeps up my spine. Instantly, I curse myself for it. I still despise admitting that his presence makes me feel safe. Even after all he has done to me. In some ways, he is my security blanket, and I fucking hate it.
Instead of leaving, he walks over to the wall where bars are hanging above his head. He stretches out, grabs onto one of them, and starts doing pull-ups.
Not wanting to get caught watching him again, I get off the treadmill and walk over to the dumbbell area. I pick one that looks like it’s not too heavy and grab it from the rack.
I stand in front of the mirror, watching my form as I do curls on one side until my arm burns, then I switch to my other arm. When I can’t do any more with that side either, I try to think of another exercise with the dumbbells, but I come up empty, so I look around for something else to do.
I almost drop the ten-pound weight on my foot when I realize Quinton is suddenly standing beside me. How the heck does he move so quietly?
“What are you doing?” he asks with genuine curiosity.
“Working out… obviously.”
“Why?”
I think about some lie I could tell him, but since I know he would see through that in a heartbeat, I go for the truth instead. “I want to get stronger.”
He nods with a somber expression in his gaze. I don’t have to explain to him what I mean and why. “Isolating a muscle like this will work, but it will take you forever to gain strength like that.”
“So, what should I do?” It feels weird asking Quinton for advice, but if he will help me, I’ll take it… unless. “Wait,” I throw up my hand between us, “before you answer this. I’m not doing anything in return. If you want to help me, then fine, but I’m done negotiating terms with you for every little favor.”
“Got it, sex comes free now.”
“That’s not what I meant!” I yell, dropping my arm and fisting both hands at my side.
A mischievous grin spread across his face. “You know you want me. You love when I fuck you.”
“Ugh, you are so full of yourself. Wait!” I lift my hand once more, holding it even closer to his face this time. “Do not say what you are thinking right now,” I warn.
“How do you know what I’m thinking?”
“I said, you are so full of yourself, and I know you were about to answer I bet you wish you were full of me,” I say the last part in a deeper voice, almost mocking him.
His grin turns into a chuckle. “I would never think or say such a thing,” he says, sarcasm lacing his voice.
I roll my eyes but can’t help the way the corners of my mouth turn up into a smile. This might be the friendliest interaction I’ve ever had with Quinton.
“Can you do pull-ups? That would be a good way to get stronger.”
“Um, I might be able to do one or two.” High emphasis on the might.
“Come on,” he orders, turning away from me. He walks back to the bars, and I follow him like a lost puppy. “Stand right here.” He points right below one bar.
As soon as I am where he wants me to be, he grabs my hips and lifts me up a few inches. I automatically reach for the bar above me until I’m hanging from it.