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THE PAST TWO WEEKS HAVE flown by. Y/n and I have spent most of our free time together, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.
She asked to join me in the gym today, and now I'm regretting saying yes because I'm having a hell of a time concentrating.
I use every ounce of willpower to stay focused while running on the treadmill. Unfortunately, it's impossible when she decides that the section on the mat a few feet in front of me is the perfect spot for yoga.
Y/n's dressed in tight black yoga pants that showcase her perfect ass and toned legs. Her neon green sports bra does nothing to hide her pebbled nipples, and she's barefoot, her red-painted toes matching her fingernails.
I push a loose strand of hair back under my hat as Y/n bend forward into a downward dog pose. She has her backside turned toward me, giving me the perfect view of her ass. My cock strains against my shorts, eager to play.
It's a damn good thing I have a private gym because there's no chance in hell I would allow another man to see her like this. She's mine.
In the past two weeks, she's been insatiable. We've fucked on every surface of the apartment and once in the stairwell when we couldn't wait to get up the last flight of stairs.
Sex used to be a fleeting thing—a single night of untold pleasure. Anyone I took to bed knew my terms—no strings attached and no misconceptions of a commitment. Not because I didn't care for the women I've been with but because I refused to give anyone the chance to break my heart.
With Y/n things are different, and not just because we're married. She's given me a renewed sense of purpose, something that has long been absent in my life.
She peers at me through the gap between her legs, a smile on her lips.
Fuck, I love that smile.
"Enjoying the view?" she calls out in a sultry tone.
"What do you think?"
She releases from her position, lowering herself to the ground. I'm riveted as she lies on her back with her knees bent and her hips and breasts lifted toward the ceiling in a bridge pose.
I slam the stop button on the treadmill and snatch the towel draped over the handrail, unwilling to watch from a distance for another second.
She raises a brow. "Yes?"
"I think you need some help with your posture." My voice comes out husky as I dab away the sweat dripping down my forehead and toss the towel into the nearby bin.
Y/n gazes up at me with an impish smile as I cross to her. "And you think you can help me fix it, Gojo?" She keeps her hands at her sides.
When I get to her, I kneel down and slide my hand under her lower back, encouraging her to lift her hips upward, and put my other hand on her stomach to keep her steady. Her posture was already perfect, but I couldn't resist the urge to touch her.
