This morning, I’m attempting to fit these breasts in this sports bra so I can go workout. 

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“Lift a little higher.” 

His hands wrap around my waist and adjust me just an inch. There’s a brief brush of his palm along my bare skin, causing me to groan. I don’t have a chance to ascertain the nature of my groan as we’re directed into the next exercise. 

“Use the ball to help you roll up, backs pressing into it, straight up to target the abs.” 

Here he comes to correct me.

“You should feel it here. That’s it, good job.” 

I’m a sucker for praise. I lift up and back down, his fingertips press along the edge of my yoga pants, again brushing skin. I’m breaking a serious sweat and embarrassing the hell out of myself.

This man is the devil and I curse him in my head as we move into push ups. How can someone this good looking be this evil? I’m waffling between kicking him in his face and knocking him over so I can straddle him. Straddle him, strip him down, and rub my sweaty body all over him. Mmm, then slide up his body and ride his face so I can know exactly what that beard feels like… 

He comes alongside me and I’m trying to concentrate. We are in a complicated twist to target our obliques. I’m corrected with gentle hands at my legs. He leans down to offer encouragement. 

“Don’t get discouraged, everyone has a difficult time with this.” 

I can’t glare because I’m concentrating so hard. He has no idea what I want to do to him, both good and bad. I’m not discouraged! I’m sweaty, exhausted, and horny. Really horny and desperate for that beard ride. 

“Next position!”

I groan and move into place 

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