"Yeah, that's all the lactic acid you worked out. It'll be better in a bit."
"Okay, I'll just lie here while you put yourself through this torture too." My teasing is rewarded by the low rumble of his laughter but my moment of joy turns into something else entirely when he turns over onto all fours and crawls over to the mat. My chest rises and falls as he stalks the short distance to me.
"Laney." He says darkly as his face hovers over mine.
"Yes," I say on a shaky exhale.
He smiles slowly and says, "move."
I almost headbutt him as I roll up quickly to get out of his way.
"Your turn to count."
"Okay." I mutter. He extends his legs and positions the roller under his calves. He rocks back and forth and works the knots in his muscles.
He moves the roller up his body and I drink in his movements and notice where he pauses to focus on a particularly troubling spot and I count out to thirty.
When he rolls to his stomach and lifts a leg to roll out his inner thigh, mine clench.
His hips roll back and forth at a mesmerizing pace and when I see him tilt his pelvis up to reach a deeper spot, I almost squeak.
He slowly switches sides and this time he places a hand up on his hip as he basically thrusts forward on the roller.
How do I trade places with that foam cylinder?
"Oh, that feels so good." He says and I just nod and try to keep the drool from slipping out of my mouth.
"Thirsty?" Miguel asks and I realize he's watching me absolutely gobble up his backside with my eyes.
"Umm yeah, I guess so."
"Can you get both of us some water while I clean up?" He asks and I nod woodenly.
I stumble to the kitchen and start opening cabinets looking for glasses.
Fuck, I’m so horny.
If Miguel doesn’t snap, inviting myself to stay over was a serious mistake. I’m built for endurance sports, not enduring immense lust over my coach.
I'm opening the third cabinet when Miguel slides up behind me. "Here." He says in my ear as he reaches over my head for two glasses.
I'm a tall girl, 5'7'', but Miguel is taller. And broader. His shoulders box mine in as he lowers the glasses to the counter in front of me.
I look down at them, still unable to get the image of his undulating hip movements out of my head.
"Laney?" His breath caresses my exposed neck and I squeeze my thighs together to give myself a hint of the friction I desire. When Miguel places his hands on my hips and begins rotating me to face him, my body cracks open and the wonton insides take control. Before he can finish turning me all the way I whip around and crash my mouth to his.
Fireworks explode from my lips to my toes. A grande finale’s worth of gunpowder ignites through my entire being. The air around us warms and if Miguel wasn’t holding my hips I might float away.
I throw my arms around his neck and open my mouth to him when his tongue presses against my lips. He tastes like the dinner we had, but earthier, and the hint of cinnamon I will forever associate with him. Spicy, slightly sweet, and delicious.
Miguel leans forward and my ass cuts into the edge of the counter. The hard press of his body reveals Miguel is as turned on as I am.
Hands wander, bodies connect, and before I can decide between getting naked or falling to my knees, Miguel leans downand lifts me by the thighs onto the counter. He steps between my open legs, I tuck my chin to keep kissing him, and after a deep, sensual moan lifts from my throat, Miguel takes a full step backwards.
His amber eyes are black and they’re drinking me in with awe, and flickers of apprehension. His hand shakes as he raises it up to weakly point at me like I’ve broken some universal hold he’s clung to.
Miguel’s head shakes in tiny twitches from side to side.
