Filed to story: The Alpha’s Pen Pal Book
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asks.
I frown, and he raises one brow, crossing his arms and stalking over to me. The tension is back, stretching like a tightrope between us, so thick it’s almost visible. He stops in front of me, on the opposite side of the bar, hands gripping it on either side of mine as he leans closer, waiting.
“Cadet?” he repeats, his body a hairsbreadth from mine.
“Yes, Beta,” I say, realizing what he wants from me, what he was waiting for me to say.
His lips twitch, but he doesn’t move, staying in that spot that is close but not close enough to me. All it would take for that distance to disappear is for one of us to take a step or for one of us to lift ourselves with the bar.
We stand like that, neither of us breaking or giving. He covers my hands with his, patting them and leaning his face in a touch more. “Three sets of eight reps with a ninety second break in between each.”
Then he’s gone from my space, leaning against the wall nearby with his arms crossed, waiting for me to begin.
I get through my first set of eight reps, gritting my teeth with each pull-up. Reid’s intense, searing gaze is on me the entire time, watching and assessing me. Pinpricks of heat move over my body where his eyes linger, a sample of what his touch might feel like.
I let out a sigh of relief when I drop to the floor for my break, grabbing my water and taking a long sip, taking deep breaths to prepare myself for the next set.
I grip the bar again, but before I can start, Reid’s hands are on me, stopping me.
“You need to keep your legs from swinging,” he says. “Cross them and engage your core instead of swinging them to give yourself the momentum. You have the strength already, so you don’t need it.”
His fingers splay across my stomach and my back, skin touching skin, his hands warm and strong. I swallow and stare straight ahead, avoiding him and his eyes. “Okay,” I squeak out.
I do my second set and he keeps hold of me throughout, his large hands gripping me and guiding me, showing me where to engage my core muscles. He’s close enough I almost brush against him several times, but he doesn’t step or scoot away from me. In fact, he moves closer, so when I finish the set and drop to the floor again, my shoulder brushes his chest.
“Did you feel the difference?” he asks.
He presses his hands into me, doing that tracing thing with his thumb that he can’t seem to stop doing when he touches me. It sends a thrill of delight through me, and I angle my head towards him, leaning into him, searching for more. His homey scent that reminds me of Christmas fills my nose. The memory of being wrapped in his arms and his blanket consumes me, tempting me to act on my desire to climb him like a tree, to let our obvious sparks of attraction for each other ignite into a full-fledged blaze.
But I step away, gulping down water to cool the embers of need in my soul.
He clears his throat, and I glance back at him. “Last set,” he says, beckoning me with his chin, his arms now crossed and his body tense again, his jaw tight and his pupils wide.
Oh. Oh, Goddess. My arousal. His proximity, his touch, and his scent have set me off, and in this small, enclosed weight room, there is no hiding what he’s doing to me. What he’s awakening in me.
I swallow and walk over to him, face and chest burning, and not just from my workout. But I will not let him know I’m embarrassed. Hell, I have nothing to be ashamed of. He knows he’s hot. He knows the effect he has on women. It’s how he’s gotten his reputation. He’s taken advantage of his looks and his physique to bed numerous females.
“Do you need my help again?”
I nod and grab the bar, and he puts his hands on me again, the same as before, except gentler. Not as forceful, not as much pressure behind his touch, and yet somehow it’s as though he’s touching more of me.
I complete the final set, eyes focusing on a spot on the ceiling, not trusting myself to look at him.
“Better,” he murmurs, dropping his hands once I hit the floor. I nod again and he points to the dumbbells. “Curls, Cadet.”
The training continues in much the same manner—him giving me an exercise, me attempting it, and him finding some reason to put his hands on me, on my skin. By the time we’re done with everything, the cord of tension between us is so tight it might snap at any moment. Every touch of his hand, every brush of his fingers against my skin provokes me, until I’m a tangled mess of want and lust.
Even my wolf pokes her nose out from her quiet spot in my mind, taking stock of Reid and his presence, noting each touch, coming forward more each time.
The build-up between us is intense. Each moment we spend together, and each touch adds another block to the precarious tower, and it’s only a matter of time before it topples over. The question is—who will be the one to knock it down, and which of us will end up hurt in the aftermath?
I’m pretty sure I know the answer to both of those questions.
“I think that’s it for today,” Reid says as I finish my last set on the rowing machine. “Nice work, Cadet.”
“Thanks,” I say, getting off the machine.
I take two steps towards my stuff by the door when my thigh and glutes cramp up, sending a sharp spasm of pain shooting through my leg. I cry out and lean against the nearest weight machine, my eyes squeezing shut. My whole body tenses with the pain, and I grimace and groan, gritting my teeth.
Reid is at my side in an instant, hands hovering over me, voice panicked. “Taryn? Are you all right? What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”
“Cramp,” I say, my jaw still clenched and my eyes watering. “In my ass and my thigh. Right side.”
He swallows. Twice. Then his hands are on me, massaging my butt, using the right amount of pressure to relieve the pain instead of make it worse. His touch is careful and practiced, and he moves around my ass and up and down the back of my leg, working his magic.
He braces himself on the apparatus beneath me, and I grip his hand with mine, lacing my fingers between his and holding on as tight as possible. I bite back my noises, breathing through my nose. His body is flush with mine as he soothes my cramp, and I lean against him, pressing my face into his chest.
The pain ebbs until it is gone and I can breathe again, but neither of us moves. Reid’s hand wanders around my leg and butt, no longer massaging but instead exploring. His warm breath tickles my neck, and he wraps the hand holding mine around my waist, hugging me to him. Every nerve ending in my body prickles with awareness, eager for a turn to be touched by him.
A whimper slips out of me, my head tilting to the side and his hold on me tightens. His wandering hand slides around the side of my ass to my hip, curling around and caressing down the front of my leg, and I am lost. Lost in his touch, his scent, drowning in lust, dragged under by the overwhelming warmth of his body wrapped around mine.
He is intoxicating. He is my drug. He’s everything I want.
Almost.
But he’s Beta Reid Thomas of Crescent Lake. He is a playboy. He’s perfected seduction, and I can’t be one of his victims. I can’t be a notch in his bedpost. The flirting and teasing with him is fun, but this is something different. This is a line in the sand I don’t think I can cross without getting hurt.
His hand moves towards the inside of my thigh, but I rip myself away, pushing off him and breaking the spell, breaking his hypnotic hold on me. I gather up my jacket and shirt, tossing them into my bag and slinging it over my shoulder, blinking back the water in my eyes.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I throw over my shoulder.
I scurry away, not turning around even though he calls out my name. I can’t let him see how much I want to stay. How difficult it is for me to go.
New Book: Veiled Desires of the Alpha King Novel
Dayson was the alpha of the largest pack in North America. Powerful figures from other packs sought to offer gorgeous girls as potential mates for Dayson. He steadfastly rejected these advances, he was not a pawn to be manipulated. But eventually there came a mysterious girl he could hardly say No. Who was she?