Page 85 of They Are Mine

And just like that, I lose count of my reps.

She’s small. Delicate. Wrapped in pink like she’s some kind of gift.

Long, soft blonde curls. Big, wide eyes.

She moves like she knows every damn man in here is going to watch her.

And we do.

I do.

Not in the obvious way. Not in the way the other guys do, with their tongues practically hanging out, their gazes lingering on her ass when she walks by.

No.

I just notice.

The way her body moves, the way her hips sway, the way her ass is definitely not covered enough by those leggings.

She doesn’t look at me.

She stops at the front counter, setting her pretty little bag down, and says something to the trainer.

She laughs.

A sweet, soft tinkle of a laugh.

Fuck.

I keep lifting.

Eyes on the barbell.

Not on her curves.

Not on the way her lips move, all pink and glossy, like they’d feel fucking sinful wrapped around my cock.

Jesus.

I exhale through my nose, rolling my shoulders back, refocusing.

Until she touches him.

Not me.

Him.

She sets her delicate little hand on the trainer’s arm, fingers curling around his bicep like she’s testing the size of it, and my grip on the bar tightens.

Then she reaches into her gym bag.

And pulls out a cupcake.

A cupcake.

I stop mid-rep.

That tiny little thing carries cupcakes in her gym bag?

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