Page 59 of They Are Mine

Today is about me seeing him.

Really seeing him.

I have a feeling he’s going to be just what I need to compliment Noah.

They’re going to be friends and both totally mine.

The parking lot is quiet at the gym.

I sit back in my car, keeping my head low, phone in hand, looking just distracted enough.

But my notebook tells a different story.

My pen drags lazily over the page, looping around numbers, sketching little hearts in the margins. His plate number. I’ll run it at work tomorrow. Get his name, his address, his driving record.

Not that it matters. I already know everything important.

He’s disciplined. Methodical. A creature of habit.

He doesn’t linger inside like the other gym rats, standing around in their sweat-drenched shirts, flexing for attention.

He works. Focused. Intense. Powerful.

And then? He vanishes.

Until now.

The doors push open.

And fuck.

He’s big.

Bigger than he looked under the gym’s fluorescent lights. Bigger in real clothes. Bigger in the evening shadows, muscles still tight, still pumped from his workout.

And he knows it.

That thick chest, stretching the fabric of his shirt. Broad shoulders, rolling slightly as he moves, like his body is still burning from the weights. Thick, powerful thighs, flexing beneath heavy-duty cargo pants, functional, not stylish.

Looks like a security uniform.

Of course.

I knew he wasn’t just some guy wasting hours in the gym for vanity. He’s a weapon, honed, maintained.

And God, I want to test him.

My nails bite into my notebook. My breath comes just a little deeper, a little warmer.

What would that body feel like above me?

Would he pin me down? Hold me steady, like he holds the weight against his chest, like he knows exactly how much pressure I can handle before I break?

My thighs press together.

Focus.

I swallow, my pulse ticking higher as he strides toward his truck, black, lifted, reinforced bumper. A vehicle meant to take damage. Meant to last.

---