Best of all? Dream sex on the beach meant not a single grain of sand getting stuck in places sand should never touch. It was beautiful, it was erotic. Hot and primal and intense.
It was a dream.
Just a dream.
I shifted focus to the television hanging on the wall. The afternoon news was playing, the news anchor teasing astory about some local official being caught in a bribery scheme. They then tossed it over to the sports anchor. The first story?
“Our very own Bobcats bungle up the first game of the AHL season. Scott, we’ll see if it was just first-night jitters or if this is a trend that continues. Their new trade, Elijah Sager, did put on a good show but made some mistakes that—” The TV clicked off. Was there a power outage? All the lights were still on…
“Don’t torture yourself with local news. Unless there’s a live car chase being broadcast, it’s not worth it.”
I nearly stumbled from hearing Gabe’s voice. I gripped the handrails and lowered the speed, narrowly avoiding being launched by the treadmill and turned into a human cannonball.
That would have beenreallyembarrassing. And painful.
But mostly embarrassing.
“I didn’t even hear you come in.”
Gabe smiled, his icy blue eyes half-covered by an all-white Bobcats cap. He had a shadow of dark scruff growing in around his jaw. “I’ve been told I have quiet footsteps.”
Funny, because dream-you has extremely loud orgasms.
…Does the real you have the same?
Damn it. Where was a spray bottle filled with ice-cold water when you needed it?
“I’ll get you a collar with a bell to put around your neck for Christmas,” I teased.
Gabe didn’t seem to find that funny. He huffed and walked past me toward a bench. This room was smaller than the weight room. There were a dozen treadmills, some ellipticals, a few StairMasters, and a couple of other random pieces of equipment that were mostly overflow from theweight room.
Great. I was already annoying him.
I checked the time. I still had another thirty minutes left for cardio, but I wanted to wrap it up. The less time I was alone with Gabe, the better. I didn’t want to continue making a fool of myself.
I brought the treadmill to a slow stop. There was a mirror that stretched most of the length of the wall in front of me. A sweat mark formed on my chest, darkening the white T-shirt. I ran a hand through the waves in my hair and fluffed it up a bit like a preening bird. Gabe sat on the edge of the bench, but he wasn’t working out. He leaned slightly forward and had his eyes locked on mine through the reflection. A muscle in his perfectly angled jaw twitched. His nostrils flared, and his head cocked, but his stare didn’t break. It wasn’t an analytical stare or an aggressive stare, but it did make me uncomfortable.
Only because I could feel myself start getting hard.
“Alright, I’m out,” I said, waving goodbye.
“Hold up.”
I stopped and turned on a heel.
“Can you spot me?” He smiled at me.
I arched a brow. He only had two forty-five plates on the bar. “You can’t bench-press that?”
“My shoulder gives out sometimes.”
“Really?”
“Happened once. Back in high school.”
“That’s not sometimes.”
“It’s one time. That’s enough. Now, come and spot me.” He lay down and reached up for the bar as if I’d given him an answer.
