by May, Linnea
"That feels so... good," I murmur.
"Glad to hear it," he says and moves his hand further up my back towards my shoulder blades. He starts massaging my back and shoulders thoroughly before he moves along to my upper arms. I hadn't even realized how tired they were. I am going to be sore tomorrow, that's for sure!
His hands stroke along my shoulder blades on his way back, surpassing them and moving to my side. I just now realize that I closed my eyes. His massage was so relaxing it even made me forget about my body insecurities or the fact that his god-like looks made my heart dance in silly moves.
But his next move causes my eyes to go wide. His hands are placed at my sides respectively. However, he doesn't leave them there but moves them further to the front, now clearly touching my boobs at the side.
My head is turned away from him, so he cannot see my surprised expression. I wait for him to remove his hands, but instead, he starts caressing along the bulge of my boobs. His touch is careful and soft, testing. He doesn't move them further, but his motions change. Instead of massaging me and giving release to my tense muscles, he is now fondling me like a shy lover.
He doesn't go any further but keeps his hands in place for a few moments. I can feel his eyes on me. I could yank him away, yell at him, accuse him of being intrusive. But none of that comes to mind. It feels too good. I don't know how, but some part of him must know that I want this. That I wouldn't object.
If anything, I want him to go further to get a better feel of the only body part of myself that I actually like. My boobs may be a little big, but they suit my frame perfectly and they are so fucking sensible, even the slightest touch by the right man can cause me to become dizzy with lust.
A man like him.
I am confused. Flattered, intrigued, nervous, but overall highly confused.
I can feel him lean over to get closer to my head.
"Do you like that, too?" he whispers next to my ear. His seductive tone sends shivers through my core.
"Yes," I breathe.
As soon as I do, his hands gain a little confidence and move further, now almost reaching around to my front and fully grasping my boobs, as far as that is possible with me lying on my belly.
I moan as he squeezes them. Holy shit, what is happening here?
To my disappointment, he lets go of them right after that one clasp. His hands quickly withdraw to my back and change over to a proper massage again.
My heart rate is nowhere near resting now, I know that for sure. What the hell was that? Did I just imagine it? Or was this insanely hot man actually hitting on me? That can't be it. He must be making fun of me...
"Is that part of the service, too?" I ask, without turning my head to look at him.
"Would you like it to be?"
I blush. I don't even know what it is. What is going on here?
He stops massaging my back and lets his hands rest below my shoulder blades. For a moment, neither of us moves, until I gather the courage to straighten up and face him. I sit up on my heels and turn around to look at him.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
He casts me a naughty smile. “You are a smart girl. I am sure you know what I am talking about.”
Our eyes are fixated on each other. He is a lot calmer than me and just looks down at me smiling, waiting.
When I don't reply with anything, he clears his voice and the expression on his face changes. It loses the playful smile and returns to a more serious expression.
"Well, I think we’re done for today," he says. “Right?”
“Right,” I agree, unsure what else to say, even though a million questions are fighting for attention at once.
He doesn't show the slightest sign about what has just happened. His innocent, nonchalant behavior causes me to doubt myself.
I must have imagined it. Of course, I have.
After all, this is his workplace, or at least it used to be. Besides, he is so far out of my league. That he could have touched my breasts in that demanding manner deliberately is ridiculous.
I shake my head at myself.
"Is something wrong?" he asks, still sounding as innocent as fuck.
I look up at him, trying to sport the same innocent smile as I reply: "No. I’m good."
He nods and quickly gets back up on his feet. My eyes follow him as he rises to his full height while I am still kneeling in front of him.
He pauses, looking down at me, still with that naughty touch in his gaze.
“Not that I would ever object to see a beautiful girl on her knees in front of me,” he says. “But I think it’s time for you to go.”
I blush with embarrassment and hurry to get up on my feet. One last exchange of looks, his naughty and seductive, mine confused and embarrassed, and we say good bye for the day.
CHAPTER 6
I can barely lift my arms the next day. Just as I expected, my legs took his training well and hardly show any signs of exhaustion. But my arms, oh God, my arms. Even holding my mug as I walk to our office's kitchen hurts as if I were carrying a load of stones in my right hand.
I try not to let it show too much as I enter the kitchen, finding Ann, who is about to pour herself a coffee.
We greet each other and she looks at me questioningly, holding up the coffeepot in front of my face.
"I bet you're here for this," she assumes.
I nod and hold up my mug so she can fill it with coffee. I have to lift my mug and cannot prevent the grimace at the pain even this simple movement causes.
Ann chuckles. "Are you all right?"
I laugh and shake my head at her. "I had my first appointment with Derek last night."
"Oh!" she beams. "How was it? He is quite something, isn't he?"
I look at her, unsure what to say.
Quite something. That doesn't really cut it.
"You could say that," I utter.
Ann has met him, she should be a good person to ask. If I knew that he was this flirty and touchy with all of his female clients, I would know what to do. I could just get mad at him for being such a narcissistic playboy and decide never to see him again, or at least to put him in his place during our training sessions.
"I love the way he works your body," Ann continues, bringing her cup of coffee up to her face. "It's straining but so worth it, you'll see!"
"I'm sure, I will," I agree.
I hesitate for a moment, sipping on my coffee. An awkward moment of silence stretches between us.
Either leave or ask - I have to decide quickly.
"He's very... friendly, too. Isn't he?" I wonder.
Ann looks at me, raising her eyebrows questioningly.
"Yeah, nice guy," she says, obviously not understanding what I am aiming at. "And hot! Oh my God, that body!"
I nod. "Yeah, his looks are quite intimidating."
Ann throws me a curious look.
"Intimidating, huh?" she says. "Someone seems to have a little crush on our sexy super trainer."
I blush instantly and shake my head.
"Of course not!" I object. "That would be ridiculous. I mean... look at him! And look at me..."
"You're gorgeous," she says. "You shouldn't belittle yourself all the time, just because of the stupid comments from those silly hens."
I hesitate for a moment. Ann is such a nice person and has always been super friendly to me. I just don't know if I can trust her.
But I need to know.
"To be honest," I whisper, checking behind my back to see whether we are still alone and taking a step closer to Ann. "He was quite... flirty with me."
Ann's eyes wide with excitement. She leans over to me, egging me on to say more. "He was?!"
I nod shyly. "Yeah, he was very nice, very close and touchy, but not in a bad way. And he gave me quite a few compliments."
I pause and look up at her. "Is he always like that?"
Ann shrugs and shakes her head. "I haven't worked with him that much and I don't know how he is with othe
rs, but I can tell you for sure that there was nothing flirty when he talked to me."
"Oh," I utter. "Okay..."
"He must like you!" she says, grinning from ear to ear.
I clear my throat and lift the coffee mug up to my face as if I was trying to hide behind it.
"I don't know about that," I whisper.
Ann winks at me. "Well, there's still plenty of time to find out, right? This was only your first session together."
"I guess so."
She pats me on the shoulder as she walks out of the kitchen. "Let me know how it goes!"
She winks at me and leaves.
I take another sip from my coffee. It has been a while since I have dated anyone or even had a simple fling. The last guy I had little fun with a few months ago, was such a disappointment that I have stopped looking ever since. He couldn't keep up with me, he had no idea what he was doing and even during the few times we had sex, my heart never went into overdrive the way it did in Derek's presence.
He was a nice guy and I felt bad for ghosting him after just a few dates, but I don't like nice guys, at least not in the bedroom. Be nice and sweet with me when we are out and about, but leave the nice guy outside when we step into the playfield of the bedroom.
Something tells me that Derek is anything but nice once he gets ready to play. Oh, what I wouldn't give to find out!
CHAPTER 7
Weeks pass and I spend the entire holidays with extremely sore muscles. The pain in my body is a constant reminder of Derek, even when I don't see him for a week.
I have never been a good flirt myself and am not used to being the one who draws the attention of a handsome man such as him. So, it remains difficult for me to determine what exactly it is that is going on between us. If there even is anything going on.
Derek is just as flirty and attentive as he was during our first session, but he never touches me again like he did on that first day. Of course, his hands are on me to correct my position during certain exercises, but it is never in a suggestive way.
We talk and joke a lot and I am beginning to feel more comfortable around him. Every time our eyes meet, I feel captivated. His eyes are so strong and unyielding, just like his entire body and character in general.
He is a strict trainer, too. When I am beginning to show weakness or find myself in danger of giving up, he starts talking to me like a drill sergeant, and it works wonders. My body doesn't even think twice about doing what it's supposed to do. It just happens.
And it's fucking hot.
It adds to my suspicion that he might be like that in bed as well. Commanding. In control.
My heart races at the thought of it, even though this is certainly not the best time to get lost in thoughts like these.
I am at my one-month checkup with Derek and he is just about to measure my heart rate. When he attaches the appliances, leaning in dangerously close to me, my heart opts for another jump.
Calm down, calm down.
"Are you okay?" he asks, raising his eyebrows as he asses my pulse at rest. "Were you in a hurry when you got here?"
I shake my head hastily. "No, no. I'm okay."
"Your heart rate is quite high."
He looks at me intently. I reciprocate his gaze, wishing I was one of the monks who are said to be able to control their heart rate and body temperature by pure will.
But, of course, I am not, and my body does just the opposite of what it's supposed to do. I feel like I am literally melting under his eyes.
What is wrong with me today? I have seen this man a few times by now. He has seen me at my worst and he knows a lot more about me than my coworkers, because it turns out that I am ridiculously chatty while working out. Just when I thought that our contact had grown close but professional enough for me to be my usual self in his presence, this has to happen.
"You seem to be a bit out of it today," he assesses, as if he were reading my mind.
I shake my head. "No, I'm fine, really. Just a little nervous."
He chuckles. "Why is that?"
His eyes are fixated on me and his gaze is unyielding as always. The steel blue color of his eyes is only emphasized by his tanned skin, making his look all the more piercing and intense.
I let out a silly and helpless laugh.
"I don't know," I utter. "One-month checkup and all. Just nervous to see whether I have improved a lot."
He smiles at me. "You're making it sound as if there is a lot of need for you to improve."
"There is," I argue, lowering my eyes. "Obviously."
He puts his hand on my shoulder, causing me to flinch.
"I disagree," he says, his voice so low that I can barely hear him. "I think you’re pretty enticing the way you are."
I blush and don't dare to look up at him while he removes the strap with which he measured my pulse rate.
"Besides," he adds. "One month really won't bring that much change, at least not something that can be measured with these silly things. It's all about how you feel."
I look up at him questioningly.
He is still smiling and give me an encouraging nod.
"How do you feel?" he asks. "Except for being nervous about this assessment?"
"Good," I say simply. "I'm okay."
"Just okay," he repeats.
He bends down to me, placing both of his hands on the armrests of my chair respectively as he lowers his face in front of mine. He leans in so closely that I instinctively move back an inch or two, even though his smell is alluring. It is always the same fruity smell, the one I noticed during our very first session together.
"I'm afraid that's not good enough," he whispers, narrowing his eyes as if he was trying to threaten me. "I want you to feel great about yourself. And I'll do whatever it takes to achieve that, Ava."
I am glad that he is not measuring my heart rate right now, because I am sure the thing would explode immediately. My cheeks must be covered in a fiery red as my heart speeds up like it would normally do during an intense training session, not before we even started working out.
This man.
Why is he doing this to me? Is he making fun of me?
Ann said that there was nothing flirtatious about the way he treated her, and she has been asking me about him nonstop since I first mentioned his overly nice demeanor during our training together. I always stop her with a wave of my hand and play down whatever I mentioned during our first conversation about Derek. I was embarrassed about ever having said anything about it, to be honest.
After all, he cannot be seriously flirting with me, right? He is way out of my league.
Besides, he is my trainer. I am his client. It would not bode well for his professional reputation if he was known to become a little too close to his female clients.
I gulp and nod. "Okay."
He straightens up.
"Let's start with some warm-up dancing," he suggests.
We haven't done the dancing part since our first meeting, so I am a little surprised at his suggestion.
"Sure," I say, nodding enthusiastically.
We retreat to the same studio that he brought me to on our first evening.
"You liked the Salsa, didn't you."
It is more of a statement than a question, but I nod nonetheless.
He switches on the music and - to my surprise - dims the lights a little. He did not do that the last time, so this only adds to my confusion.
My heart is dancing even before he approaches me, taking my hand in his and placing the other on my back to lead me.
I still don't know what I am doing, but luckily, he settles for basic steps tonight, and he is an amazing lead. He tells me exactly what to do, where to move, when to turn and how close to stay. My feet follow with an unfamiliar easiness.
I didn't even realize that I was keeping my head low, staring down at my feet, until he tells me to look up.
"Look at me!" he orders.
I raise my head and our eyes lock on to each other.
Of course, I immediately add my first blunder and step on his feet.
"Sorry!" I gasp, my face changing color again. Thank God he dimmed the lights.
He laughs and shakes his head. "That's okay, loosen up!"
Easier said than done when you are dancing with someone like him. A man who looks more like the sculpture of a Greek god than your average Joe human.
He notices my tension and tries to help me loosen up by turning his own movements more casual and lax. I hate the giggle that escapes my lips when he winks at me before he turns me around once more.
When I land back in his arms, he pulls me in closer than I was before. Very close.
I am pressed against his ripped body, shame rushing through my body as I become terribly aware of my own softness against his hard chest.
I look up at him with an apologetic face, ready for him to release me from his intimate and sensual grip.
But instead of releasing me, he pulls me in even closer. His face is dangerously close to mine, searching my eyes, but I cannot keep eye contact for longer than a second before I have to avert or close mine.
What is he doing to me? Now, with how tight he is holding me, he must be able to feel my silly heart knocking at my ribcage.
"Look at me," he repeats.
His tone is just as demanding and unyielding as his eyes. I follow his order and as soon as our eyes meet, so do our lips.
CHAPTER 8
He is kissing me! Derek Cartwright, the sexiest man alive, is kissing me!
I cannot believe this is happening. I am so thunderstruck at first that I don't even kiss him back, but just let it happen. His tight grip around me grows even tighter and I can feel more than his hard chest muscles pressing against me by now.
He doesn't take my confusion as rejection but forces himself on me without waiting for an invitation. His tongue explores my mouth hungrily, claiming me like a starved animal.
When I finally overcome my wonder at his sudden actions, I dare to kiss him back, moving my arm up in an attempt to place it around his neck, a passionate move that is usually welcomed during passionate kisses.
