‘You were slow.’ Her eyes narrowed.‘Did you let me win?’
‘I didn’t let you win, Lydia,’ I scoffed, gesturing to myself, sweating twice as much, barely standing upright, while she fixed her ponytail.‘Would I look like this if I’d let you win?’
‘I’ve seen you in better shape.’
I snorted.‘Charming.’
‘Did you mean what you said earlier?’ She tilted her head.‘About lifting less than Amy?Or did you say that to make her feel better?’
‘Lydia.You have that girl deadlifting a hundred and twenty kilos.I work in a bar five days a week and shake cocktails for a living.What do you think?’
‘You make a good point.But they are good cocktails,’ she said, kicking a stone.
‘Thank you.’ I managed to pull myself upright, staggering closer to her.‘And you’re a good coach.’
My smile was soft and tired, and she allowed me close enough to smell the perfume and sweat radiating off her.
‘I—’ She glanced away.‘I could put you together a training plan if you wanted.I have them already, so it wouldn’t be much for me to send one over.’
Warmth spread through me.I knew she was holding back, but her instinct was still there – to help me.
‘Thanks, Lyds.I’ll make you a deal.What do you weigh?’ I asked, assessing.‘What – seventy kilos?’
‘Seventy-six.’ She corrected me, extending her biceps with a grin.‘Give me some credit.I’m stronger than that.’
I grinned, stepping forward and wrapping my hand around her arm.Her skin was soft, but the muscle underneath was strong.
I hummed.‘I stand corrected.’
My hand stilled there and I watched Lydia’s throat bob.
‘Why don’t we make a deal?’ I said, my voice low.‘If you send me a plan, I’ll make sure I can always deadlift seventy-six.’ My eyes shifted up and down.‘And squat it… bench-press it.’ I glanced up to find her cheeks flushed pink.‘Just something to keep in mind.’
Lydia’s eyes flicked up to mine, then – for just a second – dropped to my mouth.
‘Deal,’ she said, her voice husky.
I ran my hand down her arm, marvelling at the feeling of her hands, running my fingers along hers.I hadn’t touched her in so long.It felt like a cooling bath after a day under the sun.I’d always loved the power of her hands and what they could do – they were a perfect combination of lithe and strong.I brought her hand up to my mouth and kissed it.Lydia inhaled, sharp and quiet.
I knew she was remembering the last time I’d kissed her palms, that night in her bed, when everything had blurred and contorted into something new.Something scary.But something I was ready to face now.Lydia should have pulled back by now, like she had before.Throw harsh words at me or make a cutting joke.I would have welcomed that over the icy sunshine she had given me for the last year.But she didn’t.I stared at her, trying to tell her I was hers for the taking.
I raised an eyebrow.
Your move next.
Her blue eyes narrowed in challenge and my lips twisted up.I should have realised a challenge would get her to play.She stepped forward into me, close, close, and closer.
Yes.
All I could feel was the heat of her body, the touch of her hands.
She crowded my senses and it was all I wanted.
Her nose grazed my jaw, her breath warm, as she ran her fingers through mine, clasping them at my side.My pulse hammered against my ribs.It was as if we were animals circling each other in the wilderness.I inhaled her perfume, the sweat on her skin, the smell of Lydia, and something in my chest tightened, twisted, and ached.
‘You look beautiful when you win.’ My voice was soft, but the words landed heavily.‘I’ve always loved when we compete.But I love it when you beat me even more.You looked like an avenging goddess.’
Lydia stuttered – the sound mangled, choked, as if her brain had short-circuited mid-word.
