Page 2 of The Weight of Love

My legs are on fire, but damn if he isn’t interesting, and I love the little tension I see spread through his arms and chest the longer I maintain eye contact.

His eyes are startlingly blue. The kind of blue that would stop you on the street to stare. As I continue pushing, his look darkens, and a sexy grin pulls across his lips.

Oh yeah, he’s trouble.

I have seen him here a few times. We have practiced the various stages of gym crush etiquette for weeks: sneaking stares, casual reciprocated nods, and occasional smiles. I had assumed that he would just let it continue being that.

“Darlin’,” he says in a low, gravelly voice as he leans closer to me, “I think the bigger question is if your ass can handle me.”

He’s younger than I thought he was from a distance, and I am almost positive that I am definitely too old for him. There’s also no way I’m remotely close to his type. That growl, though, does things to me.

He looks like the type of guy who dates models and party girls. Not looking for the busy single mom who is coping with her depression by lifting heavy weights.

That voice, mmm, is the stuff of rough nights and waking up the next day sore.

That dark side of my mind is perked up and ready to come out to play with his sexy little quip. It is all the invitation she needs to rejoin the party.

I flex my toes forward at the top of this last set and lock the safety bars in because gyms are clearly made for tall people. I hear him laugh at my silly hack to lock the machine back in despite being a few inches too short.

I drop my feet from the platform down to the floor lightly and roll my head to the side without getting up from the bench just yet. This time, I can actually take in the sight of him and appreciate it without fear of getting stuck in a squat.

I level him with a hard look and slide my tongue across my bottom lip before giving him my very best, undressing with my eyes up and down.

“Oh, don’t worry, Cowboy, I can handle plenty. With more than just my ass too, on occasion,” I quip back in the voice that used to have men on their knees in my twenties, “I’d be willing to bet that I’m more than you’re expecting.”

My own sly smile tugs at my lips as I watch the muscle in his jaw feather.

Not so impervious yourself there, Boss.

Chapter Two

Clark

She is absolutely feisty. I can’t help but devour her with my eyes as I look down at her flushed, pale form on the machine, and I want her with every part of me. I swear she’s able to see through my clothes, and my dick responds just from that look alone.

Calm down. This was just supposed to be some flirting.

I have been trying to work up the courage to talk to her for the last week, and apparently, the combination of lack of sleep, pre-workout, and three months of being single is the secret sauce to getting me to buck up and make a move.

This is not me, but damn if she isn’t haunting me anyway. I just need to shoot my shot, and the worst thing she’ll do is shut me down, and I’ll just have to change gyms forever. That’s totally fine. It’s worth it.

She starts pushing herself up, and I hop up like an overexcited schoolboy. I reach my hand down to help her up, and the look she gives me from down on the floor causes my dick to act up again.

Dang it, relax. She looked so innocent from across the gym, but those eyes and those lips are anything but innocent now.

A pale hand reaches out and pulls my hand. I flex to stabilize myself as I help support her as she stands. Her body is not tiny, but it’s also not hard to help pull her up to her feet.

She’s built but with curves. She’s been here for months, working on herself, and it’s definitely showing. Last night, I noticed her back and shoulders when she was on the lap pull down across from me.

This woman is impossible to miss. When she started coming to the gym months back, it was like this short little firecracker of energy bouncing into it.

When she walked in, her hair was usually long, loose curls down to her waist. I’d taken to watching her meticulous habit of carefully tying it up in a ponytail on top of her head as she warmed up on the treadmill. She’d caught my eye more than a few times and held contact while doing it.

There’s just something about a girl making eye contact while putting her hair up in a ponytail that instantly has me thinking about blow jobs.

Based on the songs I’ve been hearing from her car and blaring from her headphones, we also have the same taste in music. It just makes her even more irresistible.

I wouldn’t be so fixated on her if she hadn’t turned into such a little beast in here. Most nights, she lifts as heavy or heavier than the 2-3 other guys who make up our weird, unofficial night crew. Tonight, she is lifting double what I can on the leg press, at least at the number of reps she was hitting consistently.

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