Page 96 of The Temporary Bride

“Good.” He nods in satisfaction. “What kind of workout were you planning today?”

“Oh. Um, weights,” I tell him, smoothing my shirt back down where his hands displaced it.

Something passes through his eyes, that deep blue darkening. “I can spot you.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Can you?”

He smirks, his full lips curving. “Of course. I’m very helpful.”

Somehow I doubt he’s planning to be all that helpful, but if he wants to stick around for a while and keep me company, I’m not going to turn that down. Gesturing for him to follow me, I head for the free weight rack. I pick up a set I know I can handle and carry them to the nearest bench, lying back and getting myself positioned. Tristan shrugs off his suit jacket and moves to the head of the bench and stands there ready to spot me, arms loosely crossed in a way that makes his thick arms strain the fabric of his crisp white shirt.

I start my first rep, keeping my form steady, focusing on the burn in my arms.

By the third one, I can feel his eyes moving over me in a slow, appreciative way that makes it incredibly hard to focus.

“You’re staring,” I murmur.

“I know.”

“It’s distracting.”

“I know that too.” His gaze travels from my face down to where my shirt has ridden up slightly at my waist and back up again, his teeth trapping his lower lip between them.

I snort, despite the heat his expression is igniting in my veins. “I’m literally just lifting weights.”

“You’re doing it very attractively.”

I press my lips together to keep from smiling and focus on finishing the set. My arms are burning by the time I lower the weights at the end, the good kind of tired feeling settling into my muscles, and I’m about to set them down on the floor when he crouches slightly at the head of the bench, his eyes level with mine.

“Do another set,” he encourages. “If you finish it, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Something moves through my stomach at that, and my back arches slightly off the bench before I’ve made any conscious decision about it. Some part of me already had a sense of where this afternoon was heading from the moment he cleared the gym out and stood there looking pleased with himself, but hearing him say those words has my pussy clenching in anticipation.

I hold his gaze for a beat, then pick the weights back up without a word and start the second set.

He watches every rep, his eyes moving between my face and my arms as I work through it. Every now and then he says something quiet, telling me I’m doing well, that I’ve almost got it, that I look fucking incredible. That last one doesn’t help. By the last few reps, my arms are shaking from the combined effort of two sets and my breathing has gone hard and fast—but that might be more from arousal than exertion.

“Last one,” he says quietly, leaning in slightly. “Come on. You’ve got it.”

I grind out the final rep and hold the weights up for just a second, my arms trembling, before I start to lower them. He reaches out immediately and helps guide them down, taking the weight from my hands, and I drop my arms to my sides with a long exhale. When I start to sit up, his hand comes to my sternum and presses me back down onto the bench.

“Not so fast, dimples. Stay right there,” he orders.

My heart rate, which had started to slow after the effort, goes right back up. He walks around to the foot of the bench slowly and drops to his knees between my legs. The gym is completely quiet around us, just the two of us and the hum of the air conditioning and the faint sound of traffic outside. His hands slide over my hips to the waistband of my gym pants.

“What are you doing?” I breathe, my tongue darting out to wet my lips.

He looks up at me from where he’s kneeling, his eyes dark and hooded. He holds my gaze, his thumbs pressing lightly into the skin just above my waistband, and then one corner of his mouth lifts.

“What I want to do every minute of every day,” he answers. “I’m going to eat my wife’s perfect fucking pussy.”

Chapter 34

Tristan

Chloe makes a plaintive little noise in her throat at my words, and I press my mouth to her inner thigh and feel her muscles jump at the contact. I work my way up slowly, taking my time, pressing my lips to her skin in a trail that makes her shift on the bench beneath me. When I reach the top, I nip at the soft skin there, not hard, just enough, and she squirms and sucks in a breath.

The scent of her arousal fills my nostrils, and my cock pulses hard against my pants. I drag my tongue slowly up her pussy and flick it against her clit, and she arches off the bench with a hiss, her fingers flying to my hair. I do it again, slower this time, circling the little bud with my tongue without giving her quite enough, and the frustrated sound she makes goes straight to my cock.