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“When was the last time you and Richard expressed your love physically?” I probe.

“Lewis!” She’s just begun her next set, and this catches her off-guard. She pauses between reps. “Have you forgotten my threat about the low blow? Your crotch is right there.” She nods at it.

I doubt she’d act on her threat, but I can’t be sure so I clasp my hands in front of me, just in case.

“Anyway,” she goes on, continuing the chest presses, her voice strained from effort or irritation or both, “not that it concerns you, but it hasn’t been long at all.”

“Oh. In that case, is the sex unsatisfying?”

Her eyes narrow into dangerous slits. “You’re insufferable.”

“Aye, but you know what? Whenever you get annoyed with me, you start to really go for it with the exercises. It’s clearly an effective motivational technique. I’ll have to make teasing an integral part of all our sessions.”

“Tonight is definitely a one-off.”

“You say that now, but we both know you’re having fun, really. Before you leave here, we’ll be comparing calendars on our phones to see when we can do this again. Tomorrow, maybe?”

“Nope, I’m catching up with Maisie tomorrow.” She catches herself then clarifies, “Not that it matters—like I’ve said, there won’t be a next time.”

“We’ll see,” I say cockily.

Her lips press into a thin, hard line. I notice her cheeks are getting rosier with every push and release, and her skin glistens with a sheen of sweat. In the past, when I saw her getting hot and bothered like this, it was because . . .

Glancing down, I observe how she straddles the seat, and a memory comes to me of her straddling me like that, riding me with wild abandon.

My cock twitches. Damn it, I cannot get a hard-on right now. These gym shorts wouldn’t hide anything, and anyway, she’s sitting in front of me, her line of vision not a whole lot higher than crotch level. I shift my stance and casually adjust my waistband.

To clear my thoughts, I look away for a moment, but when I turn back, an idea hits me—a cheeky one—and I can’t resist leaning a little closer. “So, going back to your sex life . . . do you still read smutty historical romances?”

She lets the weights drop with a resounding clang. Red-faced and panting, she hisses, “You can’t ask me that!”

I nod, the therapist persona returning, one hand on my hip, the other rubbing my chin. “If the answer had been no, you’d have said no. So that’s a yes. Interesting.”

Her foot shoots up, and I instinctively flinch, but she doesn’t make contact. “That was your last warning, Lewis. Maybe you should be a little less worried about me suffering an injury and a little more worried about yourself—specifically, your balls. No more sex talk. Understood?”

Grinning, I give her a mischievous wink.

CHAPTER TWELVE

IONA

Age nineteen

It’s a dreich spring day and the rain is relentless. By the time Charlotte, Erin, and I make it back to the halls of residence, our shoes are squelching. We head up to our rooms to change into something dry. Entering mine, I find Lewis lounging on my bed in a grey T-shirt and blue boxer briefs, a book in his hand. He sets it aside and flashes me that cheeky grin of his. God, he’s gorgeous. His chestnut hair is just how I like it—neatly trimmed on the sides and deliciously tousled on top—and those dimples? Irresistible.

He got here yesterday. It’s been nearly half a year since the “courtship display”, and since then he’s visited me at least once a month.

“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” Hanging up my coat, I nod at his underwear, which is somewhat distracting—it’s a snug fit, if you know what I mean.

“Aye, well, my jeans got wet. Besides, I hate lying down in denim: it’s too stiff and annoying. These boxers, though?” He places his hands on his thighs and lets out a contented sigh. “They’re so comfortable. Here, come feel how soft they are.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Wow, so subtle, Lewis. I’m literally just back, and already you want me to put my hand near your penis? You’re not wasting any time.”

He winks then stretches his arms up behind his head, flexing. The night of his first visit, I had a lot of fun with his glow-in-the-dark dick. Our giggles and whispered jokes gave way to low moans from Lewis until . . . well, you know. Afterwards, we stuck a light on and I explored his body properly and let him explore me. Since then, whenever he’s come down, we’ve ended up naked together.

We’ve not admitted to people back home what we’ve been getting up to, nor have we put a label on this thing between us. It’s complicated, especially as we live so far apart and don’t get to catch up often, but it’s exclusive—neither of us is seeing anyone else.

“All right, you caught me out, but these boxers are really comfortable.” He studies me, his playful expression turning more serious. “Crap, you’re soaked through, Iona. We can’t have you catching a cold. I swear I’ve no ulterior motives here, but for health reasons, I think you should strip. I can help you out of your clothes, if you like?”