Holy fucking god.
This is beginning to feel way too similar to my Thursday night fantasy; Hudson, him behind me, the phantom feel of his hands on my body.
Except, the real thing is worse, because I can feel the heat emanating from him, the feel of his words imprinting themselves on the back of my bare neck, I can smell his aftershave, something citrusy and delicious that I don’t think I’d mind tasting on my tongue if I licked behind his ear.
I can see him, real and in the flesh, this large man towering above me, making me feel safe and comfortable and—
My core flutters.
My god.
I can feel how unsteady my feet are beneath, knees knocking, but I still bend my body into another rep.
“Drive up through your legs, Giselle,” Hudson utters with a gritted tone to his voice that I shouldn’t like the sound of. But fuck me I do. “Drive. It.”
My eyes search for Hudson’s in the mirror, taking in the tight clench of his jaw, but his eyes aren’t on my face.
A thrill, which has no place being in my body, especially because it’s being caused by Hudson’s wandering eyes on my body, dances through me.
I blamethaton the reason I faulter.
Blood rushes through my head, wiping out any other sound around me, as my legs wobble and I try, in vain, to not drop the barbell stacked with weights resting on my shoulders.
It’s no good.
I feel the earth rising up to meet my buckling knees and I just have time to decide to let go of the weighted barbell and stretch out my palms in an attempt to save myself. The pressure on my shoulders and upper back releases as I have no choice but to let go of the barbell and—
“Whoaaa…”
Vaguely, over the roaring of fresh blood cascading over my skull, I register the loudclangof metal on metal.
I think I’m panting but I’m not sure.
Somehow, my palms haven’t kissed the gym floor yet, but I still feel like I’m free falling—
Twin squeezes throb around my waistline, one on either side of my hips, catching me, grounding me.
“Deep breath in for me, Gee.”
That actually sounds like a good idea, so I do as asked, sucking in a deliciously fresh flow of oxygen through my noseuntil my lungs are full to capacity and pressing right up against my protective ribcage.
“Another one. Good. Can you open your eyes for me yet?”
Mustering the semblance of energy I have left, I peel open my screwed-up eyes to find Hudson behind me, pressed up against me tightly, his huge hands wrapped around my hips.
I suck in another breath, this one shakier than the last.
What the—
“See this Mitch,” Hudson’s eyes flick to the watching man standing just off to the side of us before settling back on me and staying there. “Is why having a spotter is crucial. That could have been a really bad accident if I wasn’t behind her to catch the barbell.”
“I should just stick to dancing,” I mumble, head still thick with clouds.
Hudson’s hands squeeze my hips again, his thumbs stroking along the slip of flesh between the hem of my loose-fitting shirt and the elasticated waistband of my leggings.
“Don’t put yourself down, Gee. Accidents like that can happen to anyone, even seasoned weightlifters. The wrong stance, low blood sugar, lack of proper nutrition and hormones can all have an effect of how much weight your body can handle lifting. Those can change day by day.”
I nod, gulping down another lungful of oxygen while my stomach flips back to front.
