Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
He guides me to the front desk, where a man in his 50s looks up with a smirk. His expression quickly changes to surprise when he sees me with Porter, taking in the oddly possessive way this utter stranger is touching me. "Uh...what's up, boss? Who is...?"
"Bailey," Porter answers for me. "She's here to meet with a trainer. Cancel the appointment."
It takes a second for me to process what he's saying. "What?" I chirp, starting to get nervous. I need this class! "No, no, don't cancel it. I want to keep the appointment."
"Oh, you will," Porter assures me. "But I don't want you with…" He looks at the man behind the desk.
"She's scheduled with Mark."
"I don't want you with Mark," Porter finishes. "I want to take you on myself. As a personal project. I'll be your trainer. Free of charge."
My mouth falls open, and I'm struck speechless. "Aren't you like...the head guy here? Why would you do that?"
"Because…" Porter releases me and steps back, crossing his arms and looking me over. "...from the looks of you and how obviously nervous you are, I think you're going to need the best. Which is me."
He's so arrogant, and I can't figure out if I hate it or love it. Either way, it definitely affects me. His words give me butterflies.
"Don't turn this offer down, kid," the other man adds. "Porter's training rate here is three times as much as anyone else's."
My eyes go wide, and I glance between the two men. "Three times?! Oh, no. I couldn't accept something like that. I don't have that kind of money, and I wouldn't be comfortable not paying for it."
"Don't worry." Porter waves a hand. "I'm not charging you a dime."
"I don't need charity," I say quickly.
"I never said you did. But I have a lot of reasons for wanting to help you, and none of them have to do with money."
I narrow my eyes. "What other reasons could there be?"
Porter shrugs, his massive shoulders rising and falling with ease. "Don't worry about it, doll. So, what do you say, Bailey? Are you going to let me train you?"
I bite my lower lip, trying to make a decision. If this were a normal situation, there's no way I would agree to this. But something about this man has me reeling. He's pretty intense and so confident. It makes me feel safe.
I take a deep breath and nod. "Okay. Sure. But you have to promise to actually train me, and not just go easy on me. I'm serious when I say I really need these classes."
"Deal." He grins, extending a hand.
I look down and slowly place my own hand in his. He covers my smaller fingers and gives them a firm shake, his skin warm.
"You made the right choice, Bailey."
His voice is low and gravelly, and I swear I can feel it in my bones. I don't really know what's going on here, but I feel like I'm on a rollercoaster that I can't stop. It's too late now, and I'm along for the ride no matter what.
While Porter goes behind the desk to do something on the computer with the other man, who introduces himself as Keith, I take a moment to look over my new trainer. The first thing I noticed about him was his height—he's got to be 6'4 or taller—but the rest of him is just as impressive and eye-catching.
Broad shoulders, muscles straining against the material of his t-shirt, tattoos snaking up both arms, and a face both handsome and rugged. I've always preferred clean-cut, polished guys, but something about Porter's wild appearance makes my pulse race.
I wonder what it would feel like to run my fingers through his hair. It's long, from the one loose strand I'm guessing around jaw length, and a deep dark brown with a few streaks of silver spread through, all caught up in a tie at the back of his neck. His eyes are brown, too, but lighter, like whiskey. He's got a bit of a beard, a couple of days' worth of scruff. I find myself imagining how it would feel between my thighs.
Would he kiss me? Or would he go straight for the prize? I don't have anything to compare him to, but a rush of desire goes through me.
Porter's gaze suddenly lifts and meets mine, and I look away quickly, pretending like I'm interested in a display on the wall. This gives me a chance to actually check out the gym that I've just committed myself to, and I'm taken aback by how different it is from the chain franchise gym I used to go to in high school. I did competitive cheer, and it was important for me to stay in shape. Now that I've graduated, I haven't trained in a long time. Plus, I'm starting to get the idea that whatever they're up to in this gym is totally opposite from the type of exercise I'm used to.