Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
“Absolutely honey. Anything with the word ‘dandy’ in it is Anglophilic, in addition to anything using the phrase ‘twee’ or ‘fairy.’”
“Fairy isn’t Anglophilic!” I laugh merrily. “Lots of Americans use the word ‘fairy’ all the time.”
“Yeah, but in the context of ‘fairy lights’ or ‘twee fairy,’ it’s definitely Anglophilic,” he rumbles.
“Okay, you have me there.”
Carl pauses, staring at my heaving form for a moment. My curves are ripe and tempting and I get the distinct feeling that he’d love to press his face between my huge breasts and motorboat me for fun. But instead, he jerks his eyes away again before gesturing to the mat.
“How about some sit-ups?” he growls. “You first.”
I roll my eyes.
“Okay, okay, but don’t get your hopes up because I have weak abs. This isn’t going to go the way you think.”
His eyes skitter to my mid-section for a moment, and automatically, I suck my stomach in. It’s so pathetic! I can’t believe I’m trying to impress Carl in such an obvious way, but hey, I have a poochy tummy and it’s important to suck in when a hot guy is scrutinizing your figure.
Carl makes no comment, however. Instead, the alpha male merely grunts as I lie down on the mat with my knees up in a v-shape.
“Okay, let’s do twenty,” he says. “Feet flat. Focus on using your core, otherwise you’re just rolling your head and shoulders off the ground.”
I nod, biting my lip before positioning my hands behind my head. Then I begin to sit up. Fortunately, it’s not too hard. I manage to elevate my head and shoulders, and even a bit of my torso too.
“One,” I pant. “Two… Three…”
“Keep your feet flat,” Carl instructs. “Don’t lift them up in the air.”
But that’s the problem. I can’t get my torso up if my feet don’t pop off the mat.
“You’re using momentum to do your sit-ups,” he says. “Feet flat. Come on, Chloe. You can do it.”
The problem is that I can’t. Not really. I need to rock back and forth in order to lift my torso from the surface, and when I keep my feet flat, it just doesn’t work.
“I’m not athletic like that!” I whine. “It’s too hard.”
Carl grins.
“Here, let me help you.”
Then, he steps on my feet with one of his own, pinning my white sneakers to the floor.
“Ouch!” I exclaim. “What are you doing?”
That blue gaze is unperturbed.
“Helping you achieve good form.”
I roll my eyes.
“Why don’t you show me how to do it then? Instead of subjecting me to pure torture.”
Carl thinks for a moment, but then nods before lying down next to me.
“Pin my feet to the floor with your hands,” he instructs. “Hard. Harder.”
I kneel at his feet and put my hands on his sneakers in order to leverage my weight against his. But the problem is that Carl likely has a hundred pounds on me, if not more. This guy is made of heavy slabs of muscle, and when he does his first sit-up, his feet push against my hands as my eyes go wide.
“Push down,” he growls. “Fight me.”
I decide to get into it. The alpha male is going to see that I’m not some wishy-washy female who rolls over and gives up just like that. Instead, I lean forwards on my knees, my hands still on his feet. I literally press my breasts against his shins, and look straight into that electric blue gaze.
“Give it to me, big boy,” I murmur huskily. “Do your best.”
Carl’s azure gaze flares, but then he begins his sit-ups. That massive torso lifts from the mat, his hands behind his head, as his lower legs press against my tits.
“One…” I count breathily. “Two… Three…”
It’s fucking sexy what we’re doing. My huge boobs are squashed against his shins and our eye contact is electric as Carl continues to do sit-ups. In fact, I can see that the bulge at his groin is beginning to grow. My eyes are glued to that massive package, and I lick my lips unconsciously as his shorts slip down those massive thighs. Is it my imagination or is his package absolutely enormous? This guy has enough firepower to keep three or four women happy, if I’m not mistaken.
“You can stop staring, Chloe,” he rasps in an amused tone. “I can see what your eyes are fixed on.”
My gaze snaps away.
“I wasn’t staring!”
He chuckles.
“You were, and we both know it. But it’s fine, sweetheart, because when you were doing your sit-ups, I was staring at you too. You look beautiful,” he adds in a low tone. “Delectable, and good enough to eat.”
My heart starts thumping as I meet his gaze over his knees. The connection is electric, and I can hardly breathe.
“Are you supposed to be saying that to me, Mr. Jonsson? It sounds like this conversation is going beyond normal gym-speak.”