He perks up, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Well… there’s this really kinky guy on this app. I might just shoot him a dick pic.”
I shake my head, grinning like a fool. “I think he blocked you.”
Caleb gasps, clutching his chest. “He wouldn’t!”
“He might. No, I’m serious, whatwould you do?”
He shrugs. “Reading probably. Or working out.”
I stretch, my neck cracking. “Yeah, I could really use a good workout too.”
Caleb gapes at me, and I realize the ambiguity of my words. I push at his shoulder, chuckling. “Not like that! Jeez. I mean a real workout. I’ve been wanting to find a gym ever since I moved back.”
“I have one.”
“Of course you do.” I squeeze his thick biceps. “But I don’t think I’m ready to go to a gym with you just yet.”
“No, I mean I have one. A gym. In my garage.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” He smirks at me, his expression all boyish. “These babies need maintenance.” Then he flexes his pecs underneath his tank top.
“Oh, God. I forgot you were a jock in high school.”
“So were you.”
“Yeah, I don’t think being part of the high jumping team qualifies as being a jock.”
“No?”
“Nope.” I lean in and kiss him. “So… you wanna show me that home gym of yours? Wanna work up a non-sexual sweat with me, big guy?”
“Fuck yes. Can’t wait to see your ass flex in my shorts.” He frowns. “Okay, that sounded a little weird.”
I hold up my hand and pinch my thumb and index finger together. “Just a smidgen, maybe, but I’ll still need to borrow a pair.”
“Holy shit!” I stare at the massive workout bench in the middle of Caleb’s garage. “You weren’t kidding, huh?”
“Nope.” He pops the P, then grabs my hand and leads me to a rack in front of a wall mirror filled with different types of workout equipment. “Go big or go home, baby.”
I snort. “You’re such a dork.”
He beams at me, his bangs cutting across his forehead. “But a hot one, right?”
“Conceited,” I cough into my hand, unable to hide the smile spreading across my face.
“Pfft, youloooveme,” he sing-songs, and my cheeks explode, because yes, I do. I lovehim.
“Don’t let it get to your head.”
He stares at me for a moment, something flashing in his eyes, and I can tell another sexual innuendo is on its way. But then he nods toward the weights instead. “Come on, let’s get you set up, sweetheart.”
We start out with some dumbbells, working out side by side in front of the mirror. I ended up borrowing a pair of running shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt from Caleb. It’s a little baggy on me, and we nearly didn’t make it out of his bedroom because, yes, it’s true what Caleb says, he definitely has a thing for me wearing his clothes, as in he wants to tear them right off me.
From time to time, Caleb places his weights back in the rack and moves up behind me, adjusting my stance and movements, his hands resting on my shoulders, my hips, or my lower back. Every touch, as chaste and casual as it is, sends sparks shooting through my body, and more than once I’m about to sayfuck it, let’s take this workout to the bedroom!
I feel hot all over, but I push the building arousal back. I’m already sweating, my joints aching in that familiar way, when lactic acid builds in your muscles. I’m so out of shape. Caleb continues to throw words of encouragement my way likeone more, you’ve got this,andthat’s it,and soon I forget about the pain and enter that familiar zone where I’m just high on endorphins, my body working from muscle memory alone.