Page 63 of Naughty & Nice

“Boobs and jumps don’t mix.”

“And you think a dick and balls do? Hold them down if you have to. Or better idea, let me.”

Rolling my eyes, I forget about the top half of the star movement, grab my boobs, and jump with him.

By the time he gets to twenty, I’ve done no more than eight, but I’m already sweating and out of breath.

Why people do this for fun is beyond me. It’s torture.

“Squat time,” Wilder says happily.

“Slave driver,” I mutter, ripping Hendrix’s hoodie off and throwing it onto the chair I should be relaxing in.

“Hmm, much better,” Wilder says, making a show of checking out my body.

“Rix will hurt you again,” I point out.

“It’ll be worth it,” he muses, rubbing the bruise on his cheek Rix gave him yesterday.

“If you say so.”

“Okay, squat for me. Let me see your form.”

Rolling my eyes, I do as I’m told.

“Stick your ass out. More. More.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s it. Now, ten reps.”

“Five,” I barter.

“Ten.”

I groan, aware that I’m not going to win.

I get to seven before my thighs are trembling, and not in a good way, and I collapse on the floor.

“You really are out of shape, huh?” Wilder asks, looming over me, his signature smirk on full display.

“And you really are an asshole.”

I close my eyes as he drops to his knees, praying this torture can be over.

It’s Christmas; we’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves.

“On your back, feet on the floor.”

I crack one eye open to find him waiting for me impatiently.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” I deadpan.

“No, not one of them requires this much work.”

“What you mean is you sleep with easy jersey chasers.”

“Works for me,” he says as I get into position.

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