Page 51 of Rookie Attraction

When we finally arrive at the hotel, my jaw hangs open. Our home away from home is sleek and modern, and fancier than any place I’ve ever stayed. We have the rest of the day to ourselves, so I decide to kick away the time-zone shift with a workout.

The gym is located on the top floor of the hotel, all glass windows that look out over a massive outdoor pool. Someone’s already swimming laps and the water shimmers in the late day sun. The view of the city beyond is almost too distracting, which is probably why there’s no one here.

I pick a treadmill positioned in the middle of the row and start a brisk walk to get warmed up.

Five minutes in, it’s time to increase the speed and start jogging.

Twenty minutes later, I’m running at a fast clip. It’s only then that I notice the person doing laps in the pool has stopped swimming and I can see their face.

Only, it’s not just someone.

It’s Sel.

He hauls himself out of the pool in one graceful move—I could never—rivulets of water dripping down his cut body, and suddenly I can’t breathe.

Did I run too fast? Am I dehydrated?

Probably both. I lower my speed and reach for my water to cool down. It turns out to be the wrong move, because as soon as I lower the bottle, my eyes lock on Sel’s scrap of a bathing suit. It’s a blue-and-white-striped speedo that hides absolutely nothing.

I can clearly see the outline of his cock and balls.

He’s massive, in every way.

Inhaling sharply, I start to choke. I’m grateful that I manage to spew the water over myself and not on the glass wall in front of me, but to be on the safe side, I grab onto the siderails to stay steady.

Jesus Christ, Sel might as well be naked out there.

Whatever, nakedness is no big deal.

Tell that to my legs, which are now jelly. I sure as fuck don’t want to slip and get injured, so I decide now’s the time to slow down the machine. Falling on my face wouldn’t be a great start to this road trip.

It’s a guy in a bathing suit for fuck’s sake. No biggie.

Wrong choice of word, because Sel’s fucking huge… and I need to stop staring at him.

Too bad my body doesn’t get the hint.

My gaze stays locked on his form as he pads over to a lounge chair, grabs a towel, and dries himself off. And the surprises keep coming when he turns around. That tiny wet bathing suit barely clings to the curves of his round ass. I should look away, but I can’t. And every second that passes has my blood running hotter, until my shorts are shockingly tight.

What the fuck?

Full-blown panic kicks in when I see him grab his bag and head my way.

Oh shit, oh shit!

I take several deep breaths and will myself to shake off whatever this is. Grabbing my towel, I shove one corner in the front waistband of my shorts and let the rest drape over my crotch. Obviously jet lag is having a weird effect on my body. All I need is food and sleep and then I’m sure I’ll be fine. No more rogue erections. I’m so anxious that I want to laugh out loud at my situation, but it’s not funny.

Sel steps into the gym with one towel wrapped tightly around his hips and another around his neck. He stops short and smiles when he sees me.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey back!” I shout, and my voice is way too loud. Jesus. “How’s it hanging? I mean, how’s it going?”

Sel’s grin deepens, and my heart starts to race like I’m finishing a marathon, not a quick jog. My face burns, and I want to bury it in my towel, but it’s busy shielding my stupid dick.

“Eh.” He shrugs. “Mind if I join you?”

“What?” I squeak.