“Why would I?” he replies, picking up the yoga mat from the floor. “The gym is for every resident. Besides, you’re far more distracting when you’re not with me.”
I chase after him as he strides down the hall. “How?”
He levels me with a carnal look as I fall in step with him. I snap my mouth shut and lower my gaze, willing my libido to calm down.
A minute later, we’re inside the elevator and I watch him press the button for the floor below ours. The car starts moving while I stare ahead, wondering how I’ll focus on doing yoga while he’ll be working out two feet from me.
I’d rather watch him.
“Is that a lizard?”
“What?” I screech, plastering myself to Kian as I frantically search the floor. “Where?”
Kian’s chest vibrates against my back. I jerk my gaze up to find him silently laughing. Humor alight on his face. Rolling my eyes at him, I try to move away but he tightens his arms around my waist.
“You can be a real ass when you want to be,” I complain lightheartedly, secretly loving his playful side.
“Camping is out of the question with you.”
“Unless the tent is in a clean and bug-proof cabin.”
His lips twitch.
The elevator dings open.
We step out directly into an empty world-class gym with every piece of exercise and weight lifting equipment you can imagine. Most of which I have no idea what they do. The surrounding glass walls let the morning light stream in and create a soothing ambience. “I think we’re the only early risers in the building.”
“No,” replies Kian, walking to a bench near the line of treadmills. “It’s reserved for me in the mornings every day.”
Silly me! Of course it is.
“Where do you want to set up?” he asks.
I point to the center. Perfect spot for gazing at Kian. As he takes my mat to lay it in the middle of the room, he says over his shoulder, “The Bluetooth sound system is behind you, if you want to pick the song. Wouldn’t want you to fall asleep.”
I catch the teasing note in the last part, making butterflies flutter in my stomach. He remembers what music I like to listen to while meditating.
Finding the system easily, I connect it to my phone and scroll to my playlist. Tapping on it, I hit play on shuffle.
“La Tortura” by Shakira bounces off the speakers. Quite an old song, but still sexy as ever.
I join Kian as he turns around and asks with a tilt of his head, “Do you even speak Spanish?”
“Nope.” I grin. “But I love the beats.”
“Mhmm.” His smoldering gaze slowly drifts down my body, locking on the slight sway of my hips.
If there’s one guarantee when it comes to Shakira’s songs, it’s that they know how to set the mood and make you want to do a sensual dance.
I inch closer to him, drawing his attention back up. “Do you dance, Kian?”
“What do you think?”
“Not even when you’re alone?”
“No.”
“Shame,” I sigh, “I was going to invite you to come clubbing.”