Page 51 of How to Lose a Pack in 10 Dates

He tilts his head as he meets my eyes through the mirror. “Doing what?”

“You’re weaponizing proximity.”

“You’re literally grinding down in front of me. I’m being professional.”

“You are not.”

He grins. “Want me to beunprofessional?”

I whip around to face him. “You are a menace.”

“And you’re sweating already. We haven’t even finished your warm up, never mind started circuit training.”

I flip him off, irritated.

He laughs, then winks.

*

Thirty minutes later, I’m on my back on a yoga mat, gasping for breath.

Everythinghurts. Muscles I didn’t know existed have betrayed me. My thighs are shaking, my lungs are on strike, and I’m fairly certain I just left my soul somewhere near the kettlebells.

“Dead,” I croak. “I’m legally dead. Notify my emergency contact.”

“C’mon, babe,” Jace drawls, standing over me like a smug, shirtless statue of sin. “You lasted longer than I thought.”

“I’ll put that on my tombstone,” I mutter.

He’s glistening and grinning and not even slightly out of breath, and on top of that, he smellsincredible.

Unlike the rest of us responsible, polite,emotionally stableadults, Jace doesn’t scent block. Not even during a one-on-one session with an omega who’s been vibrating on the edge of feral for the past seven to ten days. As a result, his scent surrounds me—all warm and sharp and arrogant, layered with sweat and thatunholy alpha confidence—and it’s so thick it practically fogs up the mirrors.

He crouches down beside me. “I told you to pace yourself,” he says.

“That’s rich coming from the man whoalsosaid, and I quote, ‘lower, lower,hold it, feel the burn,’” I hiss, grabbing the bottle of water and chugging half of it just to avoid looking directly at him.

“You moaned,” he says.

“I didnot.”

“You absolutely did.”

“Well, if I did, it was a grunt of suffering, not pleasure.”

He shrugs. “Sounded hot either way.”

I make the mistake of glancing at the mirror, and there we are—me sprawled out on the mat in disarray, him crouched beside me, every inch of his torso flexed and glistening, a teasing smile pulling at his lips.

He lookshuge.

His gaze catches mine in the reflection, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.

“Up,” he says, standing and offering his hand.

I take it without thinking—mistake number one—and he pulls me up with entirely too much force, mistake number two, because I stumble forward and land right against his chest.

His bare, hot, slightly sweaty chest.

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