Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Twenty minutes later, my phone dings.
My heart thunders when I see his name, the four-digit code, and the address. It’s ridiculous to feel this way when I won’t even see the man at the gym, but that’s my life these days. Full of longing and gardening podcasts.
I run over into Hayes Valley, and at Zane’s building, I punch in the code and head to the gym in the basement.
When I reach the glass door and tug it open, my stomach flips.
I’m not alone.
14
THE FLY MACHINE
Zane
The second I got his message, I flew out of bed. I’m such a sucker for sweat.
And shorts.
And, well, Maddox.
The chance to check him out while he’s pumping iron had me racing to join him. I brushed my teeth, yanked on workout clothes, and ran downstairs.
I’m parked on the weight bench, lifting dumbbells, when he pushes open the door. After a glance around the empty gym, his gaze latches on mine. A smile tips his lips. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”
He sounds psyched. Join the club.
“Oh, did you want the private gym that I reserved for the next hour all to your lonesome? I can leave,” I say, setting the weights on the floor.
He shakes his head. “Stay.”
I nod. Maddox surveys the small gym, home to a few pieces of cardio equipment, several sets of weights, some benches, a pair of yoga balls, and a handful of bands. “Thanks again. I appreciate you letting me crash your gym session. I try to stay on track with exercise as I travel, so I wanted to get a workout in.”
I can barely concentrate on the words coming out of his sexy lips because of his athletic wear. The shorts live up to the name, but they’re also deliciously snug. That black T-shirt he’s wearing hugs his pecs.
I thought I liked him in ties and tailored shirts. But this is next level.
I drop to the edge of the bench, pushing my palms against it, doing triceps dips. “You know what I’d appreciate?”
“What’s that?”
I tip my chin toward the elliptical. “If you got on that machine now, so I could watch your tight ass the whole damn time.”
I guess I’m frisky in the mornings. Go figure. Or maybe I’m frisky around this man.
His smile is devilish. “Well, that didn’t last long.”
“What?” I ask with a frown.
“Your promise not to hit on me at the gym,” he says.
“Oh. Huh. I did say that,” I say on another dip. “But then I remembered the three things that make me happiest. Baseball, sex, and flirting with you. Not gardening.”
“Far be it from me to deny your happiness,” he says.
I pop up on the bench, tipping my forehead to his attire. “Also, those shorts are gonna be lodged in my reptile brain for a long, long time.”
Maddox peers down at them, laughing. “I’ve noted your gym clothes preferences,” he says, tapping his temple. “But there’s a flaw in your elliptical plan for me.”
“What’s that?”
He shrugs slyly. “I already did cardio. I ran for thirty minutes on the streets.”
Even better. “Then why don’t you come over here and I’ll spot you?”
“I don’t normally need a spotter,” he says as he strides over to me then sets his phone on the floor.
I rake my gaze over him from head to toe. “I don’t normally invite guys I like to my building’s private gym,” I counter.
“Oh yeah?” He settles in at the weight bench, and his lips quirk up. He likes that intel. A lot.
“Just you.” I move behind the bench, adjusting the barbell as he lies down. With dark eyes, he looks up at me then wraps his strong hands around the bar and lifts. He lowers it, then pushes up again, grunting slightly.
My chest rumbles. That sound.
When he hits ten reps, he sits up, breathing hard. “Your turn,” Maddox says, and I adjust the barbell, adding more plates, then we switch.
As I lie down on the bench, I gaze at him standing behind me. He’s not watching the bar, though. His eyes travel up and down my frame. He seems to catch himself and blinks, recalibrating. “I’m ready,” he says, hoarsely.
“You mean you’re done checking me out?” I goad.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be done with that.” It comes out serious. Intense.
My dick hardens. Great, now I’m bench-pressing with a boner. I’m a world-class idiot. But you know what? I don’t fucking care, because the man I want is here with me, getting sweaty.
We move through chest presses, lateral raises, upright rows. As Maddox levers the weights for a triceps extension, a bead of sweat slicks down his neck. I groan low in the back of my throat.
Maybe he hears me, because he dips his face, hiding the start of a smile.
Damn. This man makes me smile too. The fact that he showed up here makes my whole week. “So, you’re such a rules guy you just had to do weights today,” I muse as I begin dead lifts.