Page 61 of Thor

But the moment my hands touched the textured surface, something clicked into place. My body remembered. I moved up the simple route with growing confidence, finding the familiar rhythm of shifting weight, extending reach, pushing through my legs rather than pulling with my arms.

"Good technique," Cassie called up. "You're keeping your hips in to the wall, nice and efficient."

I finished the route and climbed back down rather than jumping off, another habit from my competitive days. When I turned, Thor was watching me with undisguised admiration, his blue eyes tracking over my body in a way that had nothing to do with climbing assessment.

"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious again.

"Nothing." He shook his head slightly. "Just enjoying the view."

Heat crept up my neck. I'd dressed in simple black leggings and a fitted tank top—practical climbing attire. But the way Thor looked at me made me feel like I was wearing something far more revealing.

"Your turn," I said, stepping aside.

Thor approached the wall with typical confidence. I expected him to muscle his way up—using brute strength rather than technique. But as he began to climb, I found myself staring in surprise.

His massive frame—usually so intimidating—moved with unexpected grace. He placed his feet deliberately, testing holds before committing his weight. His movements weren't refined, but they were efficient, purposeful. The muscles in his back flexed beneath his t-shirt as he reached upward, powerful arms extending to their full length to grasp a hold that would have required me to jump.

I couldn't tear my eyes away. There was something mesmerizing about watching this giant of a man—a man who could intimidate with just a glance—approach the wall with such careful consideration. It reminded me of how those same hands touched me: powerful enough to break, choosing instead to caress.

When he reached the top, he looked down at me with a boyish grin that transformed his usually stern features. I realized I was smiling back so hard my cheeks hurt.

He descended with the same methodical care, dropping the last few feet to land beside me.

"You're a natural," I told him, genuinely impressed.

Thor ran a hand through his hair, having pulled it free from its knot before climbing. "I'm good with my hands," he replied with a wink that made me blush to my roots.

Cassie coughed awkwardly beside us, reminding me we weren't alone. "So, um, you both seem comfortable with the basics. Want to try some actual routes? We've got great beginner circuits."

"Lead the way," Thor said, his hand finding mine as we followed Cassie to the main climbing area.

It was a thrill just to hold his hand.

The beginner routes were marked with blue tape, winding paths up walls that now seemed much taller than they had from across the gym. Cassie demonstrated proper belaying technique—how Thor would control the rope while I climbed, and vice versa.

"Safety check," Cassie said, tugging on my harness straps to ensure they were properly tightened. "Always do this before every climb."

Thor performed his safety check on me with such gentle thoroughness that it felt oddly intimate. His large hands moved efficiently over the harness, checking each connection point, tugging on straps to ensure they were secure. When his fingers brushed against my inner thigh while checking a leg loop, our eyes met briefly.

"All set," he said, his voice slightly rougher than before.

My first climb on an actual route was tentative. The holds seemed smaller, the distances between them greater than I remembered. I moved slowly, deliberately, my forearms beginning to burn with the forgotten strain of supporting my body weight.

"You're doing great, princess," Thor called up from below, feeding me rope as I ascended. "Take your time."

His encouragement bolstered my confidence. I found a rhythm, my body remembering how to balance and move efficiently. Each successful handhold was a small victory. When I reached the top anchor, I felt a surge of accomplishment.

"Ready to lower," I called down, leaning back into my harness, trusting Thor completely to control my descent.

He did so with perfect control, lowering me smoothly to the ground. The moment my feet touched down, he was there, large hands at my waist.

"That was beautiful," he said, pride evident in his voice.

"Your turn," I replied, still catching my breath.

We switched positions, Thor harnessing in while I prepared to belay. I was conscious of the weight difference between us—he had to outweigh me by at least a hundred pounds of solid muscle. Cassie showed me how to anchor myself to compensate.

"I've got you," I assured him, gripping the belay device.

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