A business arrangement forced us together.
His power keeps us tangled.
And every time I try to pull away... I want him even more.
" * " indicate more mature/ explicit scenes, the more the spicier
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"Cause girl, you're perfect You're always worth it And you deserve it The way you work it 'Cause girl, you earned it, yeah"
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AMIRA
I shouldn't have worn this set.
Correction—I should've. Because it looked good. Like, "I was on purpose trying to get my ass ate" good. But I hadn't accounted for the way he would look today, stepping out in nothing but black gym shorts, hair still damp from the shower, tattoos on full display and that chain resting on his collarbone like it had rights.
I was already mad at the bench press for existing, but now I was mad at the floor for letting him walk on it.
Alessandro hadn't said much since we got here. He just nodded, adjusted his watch, and scanned the weight room like he was planning to conquer it. And then... after 20 minutes in our own corners he started following me.
First the squat rack. Then the cable machine. Then over by the free weights.
I paused between sets and caught him watching me again, like I was a reel he was playing in slow motion. I raised an eyebrow. "What?"
He tilted his head. "Nothing."
The way he said it, all low and gravel, like he meant something and just chose not to say it. I rolled my eyes and kept going, ignoring the way his eyes followed every rep. I bent into a deadlift and heard the soft clink of weights behind me.
He was still there.
"You need something?" I asked again, not even bothering to hide the smirk.
"Yeah," he said, finally stepping closer. "You need a spot?"
I blinked. "Since when do you spot?" The last time we were at the gym he didnt offer to spot me
He didn't smile. Didn't blink. Just looked me up and down like he was studying the form. "Since you."
My stomach flipped. I turned back to the weights. "I'm fine."
But he was already behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. Close enough that I knew this man had no intention of actually spotting me—at least not in the gym way.
"If you fall, I'll catch you," he murmured.
I gripped the bar, heart slamming, and told myself this was just a set. Just a workout. Just gym things. But when I glanced in the mirror and saw the way his eyes locked on my hips like he'd memorized the way they moved... yeah, that was not helping.
He was right there when I dropped the bar back on the rack. "You finished staring," I asked, sweat beading at the base of my neck, "or should I invoice you for the attention?"
"My gym," he said, stepping closer. "I can look at what I want."
"And what exactly are you looking at?" I didn't back down.
