“I’m not interrupting something, am I?” An overtly saccharine voice stops whatever Hudson was going to say next in its tracks. A pretty redhead, her toned body encased in a tight-fitting leopard print gym set, stands, waiting expectantly, flicking her gaze between Hudson and me.
“No,” I say at the same time Hudson says, “Yes, Giselle had a little fall in the weightlifting area so I’m just making sure she’s—”
“Oh, dear.” The redhead tuts her tongue in what I think is supposed to be a sympathetic manner, except it’s missing the actual sympathy part before she changes tact. “Hudson?” One of her manicured hands wrap around his bicep. “Our training session was supposed to start a minute ago…”
An unfamiliar burst of jealously pricks my skin.
I need to leave; I need to get away from… whatever the fuck is happening right now.
“Enjoy your training session.” I paint a fake smile across my lips, which soon slips off like wax above a flame, when the redhead stares down her nose at me, her upper lip practically curling in distain.
Then, with the fire fuelled in my veins from a spike of adrenaline, a dollop of jealousy and a teaspoon of my own ‘take no shit’ courage, I thrust Hudson’s now empty water bottle back into his hand.
“Thanks for the water. Enjoy your training session,” I say, mustering every ounce of energy I have left in me to stand tall and walk away, heading towards the room to my studio without looking back.
Chapter 7
Hudson
After the most stressful week since I started my new job, I’m in desperate need of some down time.
In the space of a few days, I had three clients cancel on me hours before their training sessions were due to begin, two clients who needed their meal plans tweaking, and one client who had sprained their ankle going for a run and needed their training plan modified.
Add on top of that my usual workload, the constant phone calls from my older brother Grey pestering me as to when I was going to come and have dinner at his new apartment, and a tube strike which meant my usual underground transport to and from the gym wasn’t available and I had to walk four miles to work every day – there and back! – because there was no way I was spending my hard earned money on a black taxi cab.
Oh, and if that wasn’t enough, Giselle had to go and just about give me a heart attack.
The close proximity of her had almost done me in; the smell of her perfume and the whiff of whatever shampoo concoction she used to wash her hair. Fuck me. Who am I? Thinking about the scent of a girl’s hair? I need to get a grip.
If that hadn’t been enough, the sight of her in her tight leggings, the way they moulded to her tight arse and thighs – even though I tried my hardest not too stare, I swear… let’s pretend my fingers aren’t crossed behind my back right now – just about tipped me over the edge.
I hadn’t been thinking about much when I asked her to help give Mitch a demonstration over at the weight rack, my heart tap dancing a strange pattern in my chest when Giselle hadn’t backed down from my challenge. That girl had bigger balls than I’d given her credit for.
Although, I shouldn’t have been surprised.
This was the same woman who’d threatened to call security on me when she thought I was nothing but a peeping Tom, staring through the window of her ongoing dance class to perv.
I enjoyed talking to Giselle, not that I’d had the chance to do much of that lately what with one thing or another, and she was a fucking smoke show. One of the hottest women I’d met in a fucking long time, with this… thissomethingabout her that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but wanted to explore regardless.
Of course, I was going to ask her. I’d have been stupid not to use the golden opportunity that the universe had so kindly sent my way.
All thanks to you Big Man, sitting upstairs in heaven.
Seriously, I owe you.
I’d watched with interest as she stalked over to the weightlifting rack, dipping beneath the stacked barbell, heart shaped arse inches away from my crotch before she straightened up. Just the sight of her… fuck… I wanted to form my knuckles into a fist and bite down hard.
So wrapped up in Giselle, I wasn’t paying any attention to Mitch, or his whereabouts, until Giselle had lowered her voice and all but whispered to me, “You’re not going to let him stand there and look at my arse, are you?”
My teeth had almost cracked from the way I clenched my jaw tight, a rush of red hot jealously pounding through my veins. There was no fucking way in hell I was letting him stand there and look at Giselle’s arse while she squatted. No fucking way, mate.
A handful of reps in, I noticed Giselle’s knees begin to knock. Stepping forward, I kept a close eye on her form making sure she wasn’t overextending her knees and bending past her big toes which could cause tearing and injury.
She seemed pretty steady, and her form told me she wasn’t unfamiliar with squatting with weights, which is why I surprised me so much when the barbell slipped from her shoulders and her body began to careen forward, palms uncurling to catch herself.
Natural instinct had me reaching forward to grab at Giselle’s waist, my heart flying into my throat, before she could face plant the floor, fingers digging into the smooth, fleshy space between the hem of her t-shirt and the band of her leggings.
It was sheer luck that the weighted barbell, which hit the floor with a surprising loudthunk,didn’t drop on my toes or scrape the back of Giselle’s legs.
