8. Kyler
Kyler
The home gym's fluorescent glow spills across the hallway as I pause just outside the open door, the rhythmic thud of sneakers against the treadmill pulling me in before I even realize I've stopped walking.
Kelsey's there, lost in her own world, headphones jammed in, those wild cognac brown curls twisted into a messy knot at the back of her head.
She's got one hand braced against the machine's console, the other gripping the rail as she pushes herself harder, her breath coming in sharp, controlled bursts.
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the sweat glisten along the curve of her neck. She's been at this for nearly an hour, and the fact that she's still going strong after last night and this morning is… impressive.
"You planning to break a record or something?" My voice cuts through the hum of the treadmill, rougher than I intend.
She flinches, nearly stumbling before she yanks one earbud free. "What?"
"You've been at this for nearly an hour." I nod toward the clock on the wall, where the digital numbers mock us both.
She follows my gaze, then shrugs. "Forty-seven minutes."
"That's an hour, then." I push off the doorframe and step inside, the cool air of the gym doing little to ease the heat creeping up my neck.
Her eyes narrow, that sharp wit of hers already firing back. "Some of us actually take our workouts seriously."
I smirk. "Is that so?"
She gets down and snatches her water bottle from the floor and twists the cap off with a sharp click. "Fine. I'll cap it at forty-five… something you probably wouldn't have the patience for."
I raise an eyebrow, the challenge in her voice sending a jolt straight through me. "You're challenging me?"
"Absolutely."
"You're going to regret that."
She grins. "That's what people say when they're unsure."
I laugh, low and rough, and something in her eyes flickers. "Let's see who will buckle first."
What follows is twenty minutes of us being serious.
Push-ups first. I drop to the mat, counting out each rep with deliberate slowness, just to watch her jaw clench.
She matches me, breath for breath, her arms trembling by the tenth one but her expression never wavering.
By the time we hit ten, her elbows are shaking, but she doesn't stop. Doesn't even slow down.
Squats next. I keep my pace steady, my thighs burning, but she's right there with me, her legs flexing beneath those tight workout shorts, her back straight, her chin lifted like she's daring me to break first. I don't. Neither does she.
Planks. The worst of them all. My core screams in protest, but I hold it, my forearms pressing into the mat, my gaze locked on hers. She's sweating, her hair sticking to her forehead, her breath coming in sharp little gasps, but she doesn't drop.
"You're cheating," she finally pants, her voice strained.
I snort. "How exactly?"
"You're counting wrong."
"I'm counting properly."
She shakes her head. "You're going too fast."
I smile. "I'm not."
"You are."
"Let's just see who will last longer"
Her glare could melt steel, but she doesn't argue. Just drops into another set, her muscles trembling with the effort.
That's when I realize I'm smiling.
Not the tight, controlled smirk I wear in boardrooms. Not the polite half-smile I give when some executive thinks they're being funny. This is real. Unfiltered. My chest feels lighter, my shoulders looser, like the weight I've been carrying for years has suddenly lifted.
Kelsey catches my eye, and whatever she sees on my face makes her laugh, a bright, surprised sound that cuts through the tension in the room. "You're shaking."
"So are you."
By the time we collapse onto opposite sides of the mat, both of us are wrecked. My lungs burn, my muscles scream, but I can't remember the last time I felt this… alive.
"I won," she gasps, her chest heaving.
I turn my head toward her, my own breath ragged. "You absolutely did not."
"I did."
"You quit first."
She scoffs. "You landed on the mat first."
"Let's call it a tie."
She grabs the towel beside her and hurls it at me. I catch it without thinking.
She laughs again, breathless and bright, and I shake my head, still grinning like an idiot.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence between us isn't awkward. It's… easy. Like we've done this a hundred times before. Like we could do it a hundred times more.
I look at her—really look at her—and something shifts inside me. Something I can't ignore.
Kelsey has a way of pulling the edges off me. Around everyone else, I'm controlled. Deliberate. Serious. I don't laugh unless there's a reason. I don't joke. I don't feel like this… light, unguarded, like the world isn't just a series of deals and power plays.
But with her?
She turns a workout into a ridiculous competition, and somehow, in the middle of all that sweat and effort, I forget about the contracts waiting on my desk. The calls I need to make.
It's strange.
Not unwelcome.
Just… strange.
I've spent most of my life building walls around myself.
Fortifying every entrance, every exit, making sure no one could get close enough to matter.
And then Kelsey walks in with her sharp tongue and her stubborn streak and her refusal to back down, and suddenly, the house doesn't feel like a fortress anymore.
It feels like a home.
"Next time," I say, my voice rougher than I intend, "there will be a winner."
She grins, all challenge and fire. "And it will be me."
"We'll see."
I watch as she pushes herself up, her muscles flexing beneath her skin, her hair falling loose from its knot. She moves with a confidence that shouldn't surprise me anymore, but it does. Every damn time.
Her knees buckle before she even finishes standing, and I'm moving before I realize it… one arm snaking around her waist, the other catching her elbow.
She sways against me, her breath hot and uneven against my neck, her skin slick with sweat. My fingers dig into the dip of her hip, holding her steady, and for a second, neither of us moves.
Then her hands land on my chest, her palms burning through the thin fabric of my shirt. She doesn't push me away.
My pulse kicks up, the heat of her body seeping into mine, the scent of her filling my lungs.
I close the distance between us, my mouth on hers, my hands sliding into her hair. She gasps, her fingers curling into the front of my shirt, but she doesn't push me away. Doesn't even hesitate. Just melts into me, her lips parting with a soft, needy sound that goes straight to my cock.
I kiss her like I've been starving for it. Like I've spent the last hour watching her sweat and ache and push herself to the limit, and all I've wanted is this… her taste, her heat, the way her breath hitches when I nip at her bottom lip.
She kisses me back just as hard, her nails digging into my shoulders, her hips rolling against mine like she can't help herself.
I break the kiss just long enough to growl against her mouth, "I want more."
She laughs, breathless, her eyes dark with something that looks a lot like hunger. "You already have my permission."
I don't give her time to say anything else. Just drop to my knees in front of her, my hands sliding down her sides, my thumbs hooking into the waistband of her shorts.
She sucks in a sharp breath as I drag them down, her fingers tangling in my hair.
Her pussy is already wet, her thighs trembling as I press a kiss to the inside of one, then the other. I groan against her skin, my cock throbbing in my shorts. I lick a slow stripe up her slit, and she whimpers, her hips jerking forward like she can't help herself.
"Kyler—"
I don't let her finish. Just wrap my arms around her thighs and pull her closer, my tongue finding her clit with deliberate slowness. She gasps, her fingers tightening in my hair, her back arching.
I work her with my mouth, my tongue swirling, my lips sucking, my teeth grazing just enough to make her shudder. She's already close, her thighs shaking, her breath coming in sharp little gasps, and I can feel the way her body tightens, the way she's right on the edge.
I pull back just enough to murmur against her skin, "You want to come?"
She whimpers, her hips rolling against my mouth. "Yes, please."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Daddy."
I don't make her wait. Just slide two fingers inside her, curling them just right, my tongue flicking over her clit in time with the thrust of my hand.
She comes with a sharp cry, her body shuddering, her thighs clamping around my head as she rides out the waves of her orgasm.
I don't stop until she's boneless against me, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her fingers loosening in my hair. I press one last kiss to her thigh before I stand, my hands sliding up her sides, my thumbs brushing over her nipples through the thin fabric of her sports bra.
She looks up at me, her eyes dark, her lips swollen from my kisses. "Kyler…"
I don't let her finish. Just kiss her again, my hands sliding under her ass to lift her up. She wraps her legs around my waist without hesitation, her arms looping around my neck, her body pressing against mine like she can't get close enough.
I carry her to the weight bench, laying her down on the padded surface, my body covering hers. She gasps as I grind against her, my cock pressing against her still-sensitive clit, and I groan at the feel of her, hot and wet and mine.
"Let's do it," I growl against her mouth, my hands sliding under her sports bra, my fingers finding her nipples. She arches into my touch with a soft moan, her hips rolling against mine.
"What about Kieran?" she whispers, her voice rough with need.
"Then just suck me."
I pull back to shove my shorts down, my cock springing free, hard and aching.
She goes on her knees and reaches for me without hesitation, her fingers wrapping around my shaft, her thumb swiping over the tip to spread the precum beading there.
I groan, my hips jerking forward, my cock throbbing in her grip.
"Go on. I want to feel that pretty mouth around my cock."