Chapter 6
Jarvis
"You're doing good. Just two more," I say in full-on PT mode, my hands ghosting the undersides of Anson's arms in case he needs the support as he lifts the dumbbells over his head.
He lets out a heavy grunt that does nothing to quell my full-blown attraction to the guy.
It's our fifth session, and I can't fool myself anymore.
The beach walk a few weeks back unlocked something in him.
He's been more relaxed and open ever since, which is great news on the training front but not so great news on the crushing on my client front.
"Fuck!" he cries out, dropping the dumbbells onto the padded floor of his private gym. Imagine my surprise when on my third visit, I asked if he wanted to work out in the building's gym and he guided me here, a private oasis of weight equipment and cardio machines.
"That's amazing, Anson. Your best workout yet." I register the reps on my iPad, beaming with pride. For someone pitched to me as being out of shape and lacking motivation, Anson sure is doing a stellar job. "Now, for your cooldown today, what'll it be—cold plunge or sauna?"
Because, yes, he's got both in his penthouse.
"Sauna," he pants, reaching for his drink bottle and guzzling down water so fast it spills out the corners of his mouth, dribbles down that delectable chin with the slight cleft, and soaks into his tank top baring two strong, sun-browned arms.
"Cool. I'll turn it on for you."
When I return, there's a spark of fire in his eyes I suspect has nothing to do with the workout he's just completed.
"Don't suppose you can stay and join me?"
The words come out of his mouth a little rough around the edges… Orrr I'm imagining all of this because I'd like to believe that Anson is fantasizing about me as much as I am about him.
My latest obsession? His fingers. I noticed them properly during our last session. Broad knuckles taper into long, thick fingers that look like they know their way around anything they touch. And I want them to touch me. So, so badly.
"Uh, I don't know…"
"Have you got another appointment?"
Yes, with my dildo.
"No, I'm done for the day."
Once I ride the hell out of that ten-inch fucker.
"I don't mean to put you on the spot or make you uncomfortable. It just feels a bit weird baking in a sauna by myself."
"Oh, so you just don't want to be alone? And here I was thinking you were trying to get me into a towel."
I suck in a breath as soon as I say it, realizing how wildly inappropriate it was.
Anson steps in closer, his dark eyes burning with an intensity I wish would incinerate me so I could disappear and be saved from this embarrassment. His thick digits slide lazily down my meaty pec.
He leans in, the right side of his mouth quirked up in a delicious grin. "Who says that isn't my plan?"