“Then stop,” she whispered.
He didn’t.
“This is a bad idea,” he muttered, but his hand found her waist anyway. ready or not trainer fling
The gym was empty except for the two of them.
The tension that had been building for weeks—glances held too long, hands lingering on a stretch—snapped. “Then stop,” she whispered
Lena wiped sweat from her brow, chest heaving after the last set. Across the mat, her trainer, Marcus, stood with arms crossed, jaw tight.
By morning, they both knew nothing would be the same. Ready or not. ” he muttered
“You’re rushing,” he said. “Ready or not, that form’s going to get you hurt.”
“Then stop,” she whispered.
He didn’t.
“This is a bad idea,” he muttered, but his hand found her waist anyway.
The gym was empty except for the two of them.
The tension that had been building for weeks—glances held too long, hands lingering on a stretch—snapped.
Lena wiped sweat from her brow, chest heaving after the last set. Across the mat, her trainer, Marcus, stood with arms crossed, jaw tight.
By morning, they both knew nothing would be the same. Ready or not.
“You’re rushing,” he said. “Ready or not, that form’s going to get you hurt.”