Page 25 of Dirty Play

“Rowan.” Her voice cuts through the air, sharp and sure.

I lift the weights slowly, unlocking and locking the sled before lowering it. I don’t turn around.

“Yes?” My tone is low, dismissive.

“Can we talk about that interview, please?” she says, stepping closer. “I need to give the producer a time and date.”

I snort, finally looking over my shoulder.

She’s standing there in leggings and a fitted top, clipboard gone but that same determined glint in her eyes. My eyes travel down her long legs, then back up, heat already spreading through me. Her ponytail swings when she tilts her head, her lips pressing into a thin line.

She’s here to work, not play. Shame. I’m in the mood for the latter.

“You can keep dodging me, but I’m not going anywhere,” she says firmly.

“Then suit yourself.” I chuckle, turning back to the machine.

Her steps click closer, the sound almost drowned out by the pounding bass of the gym’s speakers. Almost.

“You’re avoiding me,” she says.

“And you’re annoying me,” I say, getting off the press machine to up the weight. I’d love to play with her, but even Damien and Ares know not to interrupt me while I’m working out.

I adjust the weights, adding another thirty-five to each side. It’s not the smart move, not with how I’m feeling, but I need the edge, the burn, to shut her out.

I sit back down and grip the handles on each side of my seat. But then she takes one more step, and suddenly, she’s too close.

“You’re going to do this interview,” she says, her voice cool but firm. “And you’re going to do it my way.”

“And if I don’t?” I glance up at her, wiping sweat from my brow.

“Then I’ll buzz around you until you agree.”

“Enjoy the view then.” My mouth twitches, the corner pulling into a smirk.

I settle back against the machine and unlock the weight, my legs coiling as I power through the first press. Her eyes narrow, her arms folding across her chest.

“Fine.” She shifts on her feet like she’s weighing her next move. When it comes, it’s not what I expect.

I lower the sled, ready to push it back up when Livia steps onto the platform.

The platformI’mpressing.

My eyes follow her movement, her round ass right in front of my face as she climbs up the sled. I feel her weight on my legs, and I strain them to keep her from dropping along with the rest of the 300 pounds I’m pressing. I don’t feel like breaking a knee today.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, keeping my tone even though my pulse kicks up a notch.

“You’re not listening to me, so now I’m in your way.” She plants her feet firmly on either side of the sled, her body bent and her hands gripping the frame. “Unless this is too heavy for you?” Her voice is steady, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes as I grip the bars again.

I laugh, a low, rumbling sound that rolls out of my chest.

You think this is too heavy for me, little hellcat?

Cute.

With a deliberate exhale, I push. The weights shift smoothly, lifting her along with them.

Her balance wavers, her knuckles whitening as she grips the frame tighter.

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