Page 22 of Resistance Training
“Ah. Well, ithasbeen a while since I’ve done sit-ups. Why don’t you demonstrate proper form for me?” I arch an eyebrow at him.
“Sure, no problem.” He gets down on the mat. “Lower back flat against the mat,” he says. “Feet flat on the floor. Legs bent at ninety degrees. Hands behind the head, elbows bent. Engage your core first, then slowly curl up.” While he’s at the top of his sit-up, he removes one hand from behind his head, to pull up his shirt. “See that? My core is engaged.”
I do see that.
I see his abs. His beautiful, toned, engaged six-pack. And I can’t look away.
“And then you’ll control the descent, because that’s where the real work happens,” he says, his abs still exposed, still engaged.
“Can I see that nine more times?”
The corners of his lips tip up and he doesn’t even flinch. He gives me nine more perfect sit-ups. I am mesmerized by his abs. But I also can’t help but notice the area just south of them.
Yup. Brad Mitchell grew up good.
And he’s watching me stare at his sweatpants bulge.
“Ten. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Good.” Again he stands up without the use of his hands. Sadly, his shirt goes back down as he goes up. “Your turn. Let’s start with ten.”
I lower myself to the mat and assume the same position. I don’t mean to groan, but I do. I bend my legs to ninety degrees, frowning up at him.
Maintaining eye contact, he lowers himself to a kneeling position and places his hands firmly on top of my feet.
I don’t mean to gasp, but I do.
I have no idea why the weight of his hands on my feet is sexy, but it is. “To ensure your feet stay anchored to the ground,” he explains. “This will make it easier for you to lift yourself all the way up.”
“Thanks,” I squeak.
“Sure thing.” He moves my feet a couple of inches farther apart, still locking eyes with me.
I gulp. My mouth is dry. I should have had more water.
“Keep your lower back flat against the mat,” he says. “Hands behind your ears. Engage your core. Inhale, exhale on the way up.”
I suck in a breath and fling my torso at him.
“Slow and controlled!”
I roll my eyes at him.
“Vertebra by vertebra.”
“Right.” I lower myself down, with control.
“Engage your core,” he snaps.
“It’s engaged!”
“I can literally see that it isn’t.”
I scrunch up my face and my core, growling as I glare at the ceiling.
“Keep your chin slightly tucked. You don’t want to strain your neck.”
