Page 15 of Unraveling with You

He still hasn’t moved. Taming his expression, Remington’s eyes drift over my parted lips, shifting eyes, and fidgeting hands. “What do you think about that?”

“Well, I’m–” I huff through light, fuzzy breaths. I’m not sure what his eyes are saying to me, but the way they’re lingering makes me dizzy. “I’m curious.”

Remington turns back to the weights with a hum. He slaps the barbell collar on one-handed like it’s nothing when it’s a struggle between the two of mine, then stands to face me. With less than a foot between us, I have to crane my neck to keep looking at him. His extra seven inches of height have never been so clear.

“If that’s what you meant about finding more courage and figuring out your limits, I can tell you more about it sometime. Feel free to ask, okay?”

I open my mouth to speak, but I’m crushed by a never-ending bout of burning shyness. All I can mutter is, “Thanks.”

We resume our workout as if nothing has changed.

Except it has. Remington didn’t seem opposed to discussing Club X, which feels enormous. But he didn’t invite me to play with him in the dungeon either. Although, that’s ridiculous of me to hope for; from what I’ve researched, it could take months or years to build enough trust to play together, so our measly two months of knowing each other is nothing. Of course he wouldn’t invite me to play.

But imagining Remington at the club - trusting me to hear more details about what he does there - stirs hope in me. I feel so safe around him that I don’t want to stop opening up. I want to reach a place of security where I can confidently fling open that solid door in my heart, exposing my honest self to him.

And he just left one of his private doors open, just for me.

But I can’t solve this now; I need to focus on my pulldowns.

Plopping onto the machine for my second set, I sigh. “It’s still really difficult for me to keep my posture straight on these. I feel like I can’t focus on everything at once.”

“I hear you. It is pretty involved.” Remington pauses as I reach for the bar. But when he steps forward, I freeze. “Hey, I have an idea. Maybe I can create a barrier with my hands around your lower torso to help you remember to activate your core?”

My heart flips. I want him closer to me, so I nod. “Okay, if you’re okay with that, then thank you.”

Remington kneels beside me, his head at my shoulder level. I keep my eyes trained straight ahead, hardly able to contain the rising excitement in my chest to have him so close. As he hovers one hand over my abdomen and the other behind my lower back, the mere suggestion of his touch flusters my breath from me. My heart refuses to settle in front of Remington, especially when I know he’s watching me.

“Are you okay with me touching your stomach or lower back?” He asks.

Keeping my voice as even as I can, I force myself to sound confident despite my stumbling heartbeat. “Yes, I’m okay with it.”

“Alright. Start your pulldown for me, and I’ll check your posture closer.” Remington’s eyes track my core as I lower the bar. The body heat from his palms tingles my spine. As I finish the rep, Remington says, “Okay, freeze.”

With my arms stretched above my head, I hold myself in place.

That’s when Remington finally settles his palm over my stomach.

I suck in my belly, startled by the tingling rush his touch bursts in my gut. But Remington’s deep, satisfied purr redirects that excitement straight between my legs.

“There you go, now you’re activating your core. Right away, I could see you’ve been arching your back too much. How about this: imagine your spine lengthening like I’m pulling a string from the top of your head, straightening you toward the ceiling.”

Oh, God. The second I straighten my spine, my lower back bumps Remington’s palm - right where I’m most sensitive. I catch a gasp just before it leaves my lips, distracting myself by adjusting my sweaty grip on the bar. I test out another pulldown, but in this position, the tugging pressure in my core amplifies from the bar pulling me upright. Dare I say this pulldown feelsgood?

Oh, no, it feelsreallygood. As a cozy pleasure settles between my legs, Remington’s warmth vibrates through my back, climbing to my reddening face. My rocky breath moves Remington’s hands, shifting their pressure gently over my torso.

“You’re doing so great. You’re almost done, okay? You’ve got this,” he says.

Oh,no. The bar’s tugging sensation morphs into a deeper, tempting ache in my pussy. I chew on my lip, refocusing myself. What the hell is my problem? Poor Remington has no idea what’s happening, and I absolutely wasn’t planning on feeling aroused around him today - especially not in a public gym.

But my arms are pulled over my head, and Remington’s mention of a string paints vivid images of being tied up with my arms trapped above my head. The longer I picture a rope pulling my torso straight, the more stuck I feel between Remington’s palms. And that’s not a bad thing. My lungs pick up the pace.

“Are you still doing okay?”

I clear my throat, steadying my voice. “Yes.”

Get a grip, Lilibeth. I’m not going to let myself be aroused any further. I only have five more reps, anyway.

Okay, no. With the fifth-to-last pulldown, it’s absolutely this exercise heightening this pressure in my groin, spurring my pussy into flexing in delight. Am I a total weirdo for feeling like this?

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