Page 5 of Christmas with my Three Best Friends

I’m breathless, melting under him and desperately yearning for more. So much more. Dammit, I should’ve double-checked the email attachment prior to sending it. I’ll consider this a lesson learned and hope they’ll forgive my transgression.

Jax lowers his head deeper, and I feel his nose brushing against my ear as he breathes me in. “You’ve been a good girl this year, Shay. Who knows, maybe Santa will consider granting some of those deliciously depraved wishes of yours,” he whispers, then nibbles on my earlobe for a brief moment.

It’s enough to rip a moan from the back of my throat. My breasts ache slightly, nipples hardening against his bare chest with only a hint of fabric between us. I shudder under him, close to unraveling entirely.Gah, the effect these men have on me is dangerous and undeniable. How the hell am I going to move ahead with my life, now that they know my deepest, darkest desire?

Jax is already gleefully using it against me.

“Let’s get you back up,” he says.

I don’t even register the shift, but I’m back on my feet, my knees turned to jelly as I try to keep a straight face and my chin up. “Good session, sensei,” I manage.

“I agree. Particularly good. I look forward to the next one,” he replies, his gaze unyielding as it searches my reddened face. “I’m sure we can get the best out of you yet.”

Staring at him, I understand this hot mess is just getting started. I’ve unleashed something by accident, and there is no putting this specific genie back in the bottle. I’ll either roll with the punches or drown in the lava current coursing through my body, igniting my flesh and soul and turning my very consciousness to ashes. This is way more than I had expected. I have no idea how to handle it, going forward.

I’m gonna kill Cassandra.

The afternoons are usually reserved for my strength training sessions with Marius. We do them every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday in between client meetings. Today is a subtle but clear continuation of this morning’s encounter in my office. He watches me closely, counting my reps but his eyes never leave mine. I love the feeling, I’m just not used to having so much of his attention.

Worse even, or better yet, its leg day, so he’s got me doing plenty of weighted squats and deadlifts. It gives Marius glorious views of my muscular behind, a peach-shaped beauty that has been the talk of the gym since I first started training. It has done wonders for my vanity; I’ll give myself credit where due.

“Well done,” Marius says after a whole set of Romanian deadlifts. “You’re getting stronger, Shay.”

“Thanks. Sticking to my protein target,” I reply, smiling. My glutes burn, my thighs ache, but I adore the feeling in between sets, when my body is primed and working overtime to sustain the immense amount of effort I’m working through.

“I’m honestly proud of you,” he says, arms crossed over his rippling chest. He’s always a pleasure to be around, but there’s a certain degree of intimacy developing between us, and while I don’t know how to handle myself in these circumstances, I must admit… maybe sending that email wasn’t the biggest mistake. “You’ve come a long way in a short amount of time. You’re consistent and ambitious, dedicated and constantly motivated.”

“Vincent almost knocked me out of orbit, but I’m pleased to say I’m absolutely better than when I first started.”

“It shows,” Marius says. “He didn’t deserve you.”

“Aww, thanks Marius.”

“I’m not sure anybody deserves a woman like you, Shay.”

I’ve always been confident and caring with myself, despite my weight issues and emotional fluctuations. Coming from a broken home like mine, being raised by terrible people and understanding I had no choice in the matter to begin with—it all served to build me up, to teach me to focus on myself in order to persevere and remove myself from a toxic environment. When Vincent first came along, I thought I’d healed enough to welcome him, to actually build a healthy relationship. I should’ve known better. Well, I definitely know better now, after I glued my heart back together.

Marius’s kindness, the intensity of his voice, the fire burning in his eyes. He’s got me enthralled and speechless, blushing like a schoolgirl and wondering what it would be like if there was more brewing between us. I’m terrified of doing something wrong here, though. I’m terrified of somehow scaring him or pushing him away—that naughty list would have most guys running for the hills. He’s still standing before me, watching me, telling me things that make my heart sing and my soul swell.

“You’ve been instrumental to my progress,” I say, preparing myself for another set of deadlifts.

“All I do is tell you how to lift and how much to lift,” he replies. “Most of this work is yours and yours alone. I’m but a humble tool.”

I giggle at his choice of words. “Did you just call yourself a tool?”

“I’ve called myself worse,” he laughs, then comes closer—as if he wasn’t close enough—to add another weight to my bar before I lift it. “Let’s get you to the next level while we’re here. I think you can do this now.”

He doesn’t move, though, and it’s making it harder for me to focus. I manage to lift the bar, feeling the weight tugging my shoulders downward before I pull back and assume the deadlift position. My glutes are instantly activated, and while it’s a difficult set, I surprise myself with twelve full reps. At the thirteenth, however, Marius inches even closer and places a hand on the small of my back.

Lightning shoots up my spine, but I keep pulling. “Don’t round your back. Only go as low as your hips will let you.”

“Okay,” I groan slightly as I go down for a fourteenth rep.

“You can do it. One more, babe.”

The word slips past my ear as I manage a fifteenth rep, then set the bar back on its metal rack, exhaling sharply as my muscles begin to relax. “Wow…” I adore the immediate sensation after a deadlift. “Had anyone told me six months ago that I’d love doing this stuff as much as I do, I would’ve laughed in their faces.”

“You’re a natural,” Marius says, still beside me, still focused on me, still consuming me with his very presence while his hands patiently rest behind his back. I can’t help but admire his athletic frame—he was one hell of a tennis player in his early twenties until a shoulder injury forced him to shift lanes and get into fitness training. “And I say this to barely any of my clients.”

---