Page 16 of Unraveling with You

But I can’t stifle it. My legs weaken, lifting my ass off the bench, but not for the reasons Remington might think.

His soft voice carries an extra allure to it from beside me. “There you go. You’re doing so well activating your core. Can you try to keep your hips on the bench, or would you like some help holding down your body for the last few reps?”

Oh, maybe that would actually take pressure off my aching core.

“Sure, thanks,” I say.

Remington’s hand lifts off my belly, but his right hand on my back slides to my hip. The left settles on my other hip to match, and he applies firm pressure with it - pressing my ass tight to the bench. I breathe through my nose, doing my best to hide the luminous, raging fire in my belly.

“Ready,” he says.

Okay, Lilibeth. You can do this. This is just an innocent physical exercise. Just a pulldown. It’ll be over in less than a minute.

But with the slow, rooted stretch of my core, Remington’s added pressure on my hips blooms a bubbling, expanding pleasure in my lower belly. I gasp for air, but with the rep’s full stretch touching my most sensitive nerves, the extra effort this rep requires pushes a high-pitched, airy moan from my lips.

Shock erases all pleasure I’m feeling. My arms zip back up in fear. Remington looks me straight in the eyes in the mirror in front of the machine. I pant, unable to stop my entire body from flushing bright red.

“S-sorry,” I breathe.

Remington hums. “It’s all good, as long as you’re okay. You’ve only got one more.”

He knows that moan wasn’t my regular workout exhale. He has to. Embarrassment stings my eyes.

Ignoring the heavy, pointed weight of his hands pressing my thighs tight to the bench, I struggle through my last pulldown with a deep quiver down my spine. I’ve never let someone touch my back in that spot before, and his hands are so warm and big, and he’s complimenting me, and it’s all stacking onto the low, building ache in my groin.

What if it isn’t the pulldowns after all, and it’s mainlyRemingtonmaking me feel this way - just with his eyes and words? Is this okay to feel? The pleasure in my pelvis expands to an almost unreachable level. What if I really am about to come? Panic strikes my heart again, and I know it’s seeping through to my face.

“Pause. Don’t finish that one.”

Remington’s sudden request zaps my nerves. I release the bar, allowing it to clatter to the top with a resoundingclang.

Neither of us speak at first. I stare at Remington, wide-eyed and mortified as I anticipate his response to my inappropriate feelings, but his expression remains cool. He removes his pressure on my hips, but he doesn’t step away, keeping one hand softly settled against my lower back. We’re still gazing at each other in the mirror, even as I suck in an extended inhale at his buzzing touch on me.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me having my hands here?” There’s a silent, sultry question in Remington’s eyes that throws my heart overboard. I don’t want to lie to him. I can’t.

“Yes. But I’m– I’m just a little flustered, since it feels nice to have your hands there,” I whisper.

My body buzzes like I’ve been sprinting, clinging to the bench with clammy hands. I can’t believe I just voiced that. Have I lost all blood to my brain?

But Remington hums quietly, his tone lower than ever. “It does seem sensitive.”

He’s speaking so softly that my pussy clenches. Thank God I can’t get a boner. I open my lips, breaking into a pant. I can’t stop my whisper from spilling out. “I have an embarrassing mark on my skin on my lower back, so I haven’t let anyone else touch my back or hips on purpose before.”

Remington freezes with a smoldering, pointed stare, effectively taken aback by my confession.

But he runs his thumb over my back, blasting pleasure up my heaving chest. “That’s a real gift you’ve given me. Thank you. And I—” He lets out a quiet, slow exhale at my side before softening his voice even further. “I do like having my hands there too.”

Remington’s words ripple through me, stirring desire deep in my belly. I pause, giving myself a second to breathe. I feel so inexperienced and ridiculous for getting close from just words, simple touches, and exercise, especially beside who I’m fairly certain is a sex king. I hope he doesn’t notice the depth of what he’s doing to me - or if he notices, that he isn’t grossed out.

But I don’t want to stop staring at him in the mirror. Our eyes linger for far longer than usual.

He studies me for a while before muttering, “Do you want to keep going?”

I swallow hard, glancing at the bar over my head for mercy. “Yes.”

He’s not talking this time. Maybe I can handle my feelings without his praise amplifying them.

But a few reps in, Remington’s hot breath on my back and the intensity of this workout creates a powerful, flourishing warmth in my groin - even more potent than the first time. Panic flips my heart. What’s going on today? The next rep feels way too good, enough to replace the burn in my arms.

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