His

by 12 Author Anthology

  "I think we're done," he muttered, climbing to his feet.

  "'Bout time. When should I come back?"

  Blake stood over her. "What?"

  Kristy tried to rise too, but rigor mortis had set in. "I can't unfold my arms."

  "Easy solution." He took her hands and pulled. Hard. Hard enough to snatch a shriek out of her.

  "What the hell's going on in here?" Phyllissa-T yelled in from the front office, her voice moving closer.

  Blake had straightened her arms and pulled her to a seated position. "Ms. Kreem has just finished her workout." He rubbed the sides of his nose where she'd bitten him and pulled back his fingers, probably looking for blood. She hadn't bitten him that hard. Who was being the drama queen now?

  "Please tell me you didn't kill another one," Phyllissa-T said, with her hands on her hips. She peered down at Kristy, a frown on her face. "You okay?"

  "She's fine," Blake interjected, still rubbing his nose. "She bit me though."

  "Bit you?" Phyllissa-T moved closer to Blake and touched his nose. He dwarfed the woman, but together they made a ferocious looking pair. Blake had the whole pissed off MMA look going, and Phyllissa-T could have easily been someone's biker bitch.

  "It was just a nip," Kristy said in her defense to the other members who had crept nearer. She clambered to her feet and massaged each of her biceps in turn.

  Snickers and snorts erupted and popped around the area, like little bubbles of mirth against a rough surface, Blake being that rough surface. "I think Blake's met his match," one said sotto voce.

  "Fuck it!" Blake stomped away toward the exit. Even Phyllissa-T was chuckling.

  Kristy addressed Blake's retreating back. "Was it something I said?"

  "So...." Phyllissa-T strolled over and stood at Kristy's side as they both watched Blake disappear. "Same time on Wednesday?"

  "Better make it Friday. I doubt I'll be able to move before then." She stretched out a leg and rotated her foot in circles to undo the numbness and kinks the kettlebells caused.

  "You got it. Stop by the desk on your way out and I'll give you the contract to take home with you." Phyllissa-T muttered something else, but Kristy couldn't make out what she said.

  Kristy hoped she had enough energy to depress the gas and brake pedals in her car and contemplated calling in sick the next day. But Blake had thrown down a challenge, and she wasn't about to slink off and curl up into a scared little ball of quivering Jell-O.

  Chapter Three

  BJ, 16 years earlier—

  Kristy glanced around the area, probably to make sure none of her usual crowd saw her talking to him. Shit! Stuck up little bitch. But she did walk toward him, so maybe he was being too judgmental.

  “Hi, BJ,” she said in that breathless way she had.

  “Hey,” he said, lifting his chin. He let his eyes roam over her. Damn she was pretty, and hot.

  “What do you want?” she asked. She was nervous around him. He liked that. A little nervous was okay. Scared didn’t work. He balanced a precarious tightrope with her.

  “You the beaver for Homecoming?” He tossed his cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his boot.

  She watched him, one arm barricading across her stomach to hold her other arm. “Yeah. You going?”

  He had conspired to cross paths more often with her lately. She didn’t usually say much, but her body offered plenty of hints as to her inner thoughts.

  “What do you think?” A lock of her hair had fallen from her ponytail. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to finger it. Their eyes met. He tucked the wayward strand behind her ear and inched closer. The blush she rewarded him with made him feel like Superman.

  “Right. Of course not, because you probably think—“

  “You shouldn’t be so sure about anything when it comes to what I think,” he said, taking another step closer. She was like a glorious unicorn, rare and magical, but skittish. The slightest wrong move and she'd bolt.

  Kristy released her arm and gazed up at him, her lips pursed. A cloud passed over her face, pulling her features into a dark place. “Whatever, BJ. Just sayin' I've never seen you at any of the games before.”

  “Doesn't mean I wasn't there.”

  Kristy pressed her lips together and cocked her head. “Never seen your car in the lot either.”

  He wondered where she'd dredged up her newly found assertiveness. The poker face he worked so hard on cracked, and he grinned at her. “So you’ve been looking for me? I think maybe you’ve been scoping out the wrong places.” BJ toyed with the lock of her hair again, to hold himself in check. Wouldn’t do to give away too much. Truth was he had been to every game, when he could slip away from his old man. He rarely made the kickoff and never stayed until the end, but he was always there for halftime, always there to see the mascot's dance and antics.

  “Well, where should I look at Homecoming then?” She took a step back, taking the silky dark strands with her.

  Only with great risk comes great reward, his pops always said. “Maybe I might be at the visitor end of the stadium at around," he paused and bobbed his head from side to side, conjuring up a stealthily strategic answer with as much laissez faire as he could muster, "oh, say eight o’clock. That's about when I usually go for a drink or a snack.” He gave her a wink to seal the deal.

  "Okay then," she said, moving backwards and away from him, "Maybe I'll see you there." She left him with one of her magical smiles as a deposit.

  ****

  Present Day—

  Blake stepped out of his office right as Kristy emerged from the ladies’ changing area. "You're back." He moved to stand beside her, far too close and peering down his imperious nose at her.

  Kristy had just finished signing a contract for a six-month membership and bi-weekly personal training sessions. She craned her neck to gaze up at him. He wore the same kelly green polo shirt as last time and a billboard-sized sneer. His scalp sported a few days' growth, enough to rat out his male pattern baldness. Probably the reason he shaved in the first place. Back in high school, his dark brown hair had been long and full, curly and nearly down to his shoulders. A mane most of the girls had envied ... despite smelling like cigarette smoke and a kegger. Amazing the changes a few years and a lot of maturity could do to a body—some good and some not so good. She supposed the same could be said of her and had to allow that time and stress had snuck up on her.

  Still, Blake Smith's masculinity had never been in doubt then and certainly was not now. He wore the definition of virile like he'd made it his bitch. He wore a lot of other labels too. Whether the man inside matched them remained to be seen.

  "I am back," she said pragmatically. She would not mention how sore she had been and still was. She also would not let on how disruptive to her poise he was, especially when he stood so close to her.

  Blake studied her, unmoving from his spot. Just like the first time, his gaze skimmed over her from head to toe, but he gave up nothing. "Why?"

  "You think I'd give up because the first session was a little tougher than I expected?"

  "The truth?" he asked and at her nod said, "Yes. Never thought I'd see you again. Figured you were all talk just like you were—"

  "I'm not the same girl I was in high school." She sucked in her stomach and stood a little taller.

  He inched closer, close enough for her to get a whiff of him, earthy male with a hint of ... aftershave? At six o'clock in the evening? Her traitorous body perked up like a cat to a can opener. She found herself leaning toward him. Dammit, no!

  They were close enough for Kristy to feel the heat radiating off his body, to spy a few dark hairs peeking out the unbuttoned placket of his polo. No manscaping for this one, no sir. Her fingers twitched to touch. Her eyes focused on the divet at the base of his throat where his collarbones nearly met. What would he taste like there? Would the skin feel as smooth as it looked?

  Blake touched her on her lower back and motioned toward the door to the gy
m. "Let's see what you got then, Donut Girl."

  Chapter Four

  BJ, 16 years ago—

  He waited nearly a half an hour for her near the concession stand, but she never showed. Figured. She probably had a good laugh with her girlfriends over the chump she hung out to dry. He stayed there so long even his buddies began to wonder what was up, not that he could tell them. If she had showed up, it would have been a coincidence a shrewd ladies man such as himself would have twisted to his benefit. But she didn't.

  Fucking stupid. That's what he was.

  He wondered if Gavin was announcing. He stepped out into the stadium and upon hearing the familiar voice, he scuttled away, declaring to his friends that the concessions area was too full of twerps and he needed a cigarette.

  Gavin let him in the announcer's booth. Halftime was beginning. A quick check of the field and he spotted the familiar beaver mascot of his school.

  "Fucking embarrassing having a beaver for a mascot," he said to Gavin, pointing. Kristy had begun her usual antics. The routine he'd once found cute now reeked of insipidness. "Especially knowing there's a beaver in the beaver." He snickered and nudged his friend in the arm.

  "A wet one too from the looks of it," Gavin said chuckling. The two of them snorted. "I'll bet it sucks to have to do all that out in the rain."

  "Hey man, you oughta go on the intercom and all innocent-like say ‘There's no beaver like a wet beaver. Wasn't she great?’"

  "Nah, man, I'd get in trouble."

  "Come on ... do it! It'll be funny. People will laugh. The mascot wants people to laugh. It's halftime, and no one gives a rat's ass. They're all off getting food or yakking with their friends."

  After a bit more persuading, Gavin gave in. He blasted the quip over the loud speaker and broadcasted a follow up of "Oh, baby, that was so good." As BJ had hoped, the spectators roared with laughter.

  That Kristy just seemed to go with the flow, playing to the crowd's amusement, dampened his revenge but didn't completely extinguish it.

  One thing was for sure—hell would freeze over before he ever gave Kristy LaRose a second thought.

  ****

  Present Day, Four Months Later—

  "Stop pushing me so hard! It hurts!"

  "Breathe in. Hold it. Now breathe out," Blake said, pushing against her back as she exhaled. She inched lower into the space between her straddled legs where she sat stretching out. Sadly, her torso hadn't moved much beyond forty-five degrees. Her inner thighs quivered and resisted. Blake's mouth stayed near her ear, coaching her to stretch more, try harder. His breath warmed her neck. His thumbs moved in a light caress against her back.

  "Oww!" she cried when he swapped his body for his hands, pressing his chest against her back. His hands moved to the floor next to each of her inner thighs, supporting the portion of his weight he hadn't put into torturing her.

  "Don't be such a baby," he said on a puff of air against her ear.

  "Don't be such a bully." Her damnable pulse soared at the eroticism of his nearness. It didn’t seem to understand the difference between the touch of a personal trainer and that of a lover.

  He exhaled, slow and deliberate and gave a low groan. "You love it when I’m a bully."

  She turned her head toward him, bringing his lips closer to her cheek, her mouth. "You'd think after nearly four months, you wouldn't be quite so fucking heartless. Why do you have to be so damn good at being mean?" He snickered and pushed harder against her. "Ow, ow, ow!"

  Finally he shoved off his hands and off her back. A rush of air cooled the hot spot on her back where he'd been draped over her like the devil's own blanket o' torture. Why did she suddenly feel so bereft?

  "Chest and triceps today, and if you're a good little donut, I'll give you a pass on the over and under pushups. See? Told you I was a pussycat."

  She narrowed her eyes and gave him the one-finger salute as she passed on her way to the weight bench. Blake laughed and kissed the air.

  To add insult to injury, he carried the barbell with one hand to where she lay on her back on the weight bench. At least he used two hands to position it in the rack above her face. Safety first, as he'd admonished many times over the past few months.

  "How much weight is on there?" she asked after nervously noting a couple of the plates seemed larger in diameter.

  "You don’t need to know now." He braced himself on the bar and leaned down over her from where he stood near her head. "Ready?"

  "Yeah ... I guess." She grasped the bar and removed it from the rack. Blake's fingers brushed hers from where he took a light, spotter's grip. "Mother! This is heavy! My chest will be huge!"

  "Like a domesticated turkey. That's the idea. Keep going."

  "Slave driver! I'm not going to be able to do eight reps; I'm telling you now." She paused at the top of her second rep. Sucking in a breath, she lowered the bar with Blake's hands always there, ready if she needed him.

  "Yes, you are," he said simply. "Blow out as you lift ... go, go, go, go ... and three."

  "Fuck! Not even halfway and I'm already shaking."

  "Stop your whining, Donut. I want to be in a good mood when I go to Happy Hour tonight. You're like nails on a chalkboard sometimes."

  Kristy paused at the bottom and caught his eye. On the lift she grunted out, "Fuuuuck. Yoooouuu!"

  "Four. I'm not that easy." Damnable man smiled at her as he helped her lower the bar to begin her fifth rep.

  "It's a ... fi ... gure ... of ... speech. Fi-i-i-i.... Help me!"

  "Keep going, you're almost there ... and five. There's a good donut."

  "I can't do any more. I can't," she said panting as she held the bar above her head, arms locked.

  "Yes, you can. Only three more. You crank 'em out, and I'll even buy you a drink."

  "What good'll that do me if I can't lift the glass up to my lips?"

  "I'll throw in a straw." The bastard pushed down on the bar, breaking the lock in her arms but catching the bar to slow its descent.

  "I wasn't ready to start the rep, damn you!" She paused, the bar only a few inches from her chest. Trusting Blake as her spotter had never been an issue, thank goodness. But wait ... had he just asked her out? Finally? Better go back in to find out. "Not sure all this is worth a measly drink, BJ."

  When he kept calling her Donut to tease her, she had resorted to calling him BJ. Their banter had lately begun to drift into more personal territory, but hadn't yet resulted in him asking her out.

  "With great effort comes great results," he said smiling. "With great risk comes great rewards. Now push!"

  "Si-i-i-i-i-x...." Slowly, slowly, with trembling hands she pushed the bar up off her chest until her arms fully straightened.

  "Two more! Make 'em your best!" He let her pause only briefly before he relaxed his grip on the bar. The full weight on her now noodle-like arms was more than she could take and down went the bar, but Blake held its fall in check. "Now seven. Push, push, push, push, push...."

  Kristy cried out, a long guttural groan. Somehow, miraculously or with Blake's spotting assistance, the bar rose higher and higher over her head until she reached the peak. It felt good. Seven reps done. She was proud of herself, of what she had accomplished.

  "I'll buy you dinner too if you make this last rep."

  God help her. She flashed forward to Blake buying her a drink, buying her dinner, taking her home, kissing her goodnight, coming inside for a coffee only with her never even turning on the coffee pot because once inside he would back her up against the wall and rip off her clothes. They would shove his clothing out of the way so that when he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, his cock would nail her to the wall. He'd fuck her senseless, she knew it. He'd hold her up in those big brawny arms of his as he drove his cock into her pussy. She'd be so wet and ready for him.

  "No more stalling, don't overthink it. Just do it!" He was talking about the last rep. If he only knew how much more she'd been contemplating lately.


  The bar drifted downward toward her chest. This was the moment. Do or die. She took a deep cleansing breath, released it. Took another one and began to push.

  "That's right. Come on, baby! Push, push ... look at you go. Push, push...."

  Kristy's arms trembled. She couldn't do it. God, she wanted it though! Push, push, push....

  "Just a little bit more...."

  "I can't!" she shrieked.

  "Yes you can! Push it!"

  Another shriek. The trembling grew. She was going to drop the bar! "Go! Go! Get up there!" It inched higher and higher on violently shaking arms until, at last, she reached the top of the lift.

  "Alright! That's my girl! Yes!" Blake helped her guide the bar back into the stand. "Eight reps at sixty pounds! I knew you could do it!"

  Kristy's arms flopped down and below the level of the bench. Useless appendages dangling from their sockets. "Uhhh, no more!"

  Blake squatted at her side. "Had enough?"

  "Yes. I need a drink. I need food." I need you. "You better not renege this time."

  "I have never reneged. It's closing time anyway." He stood and extended a hand to her.

  "Closing time? What time is it?" She let Blake tug her into the seated position.

  "It's eight o'clock. Boss wants everyone out by then because of the snowstorm coming. Doesn’t want to have to wait around for stragglers," he said with a sly grin.

  "Oh, does he come by and lock up?" Glancing around, she noticed for the first time that they were alone. "We're the last ones here?"

  "I lock up." He stood still holding her hand and pulled her to a standing position. "I'm the owner."

  Kristy's brows drew in, and she cocked her head. "You own Inferno Crossfit?"

  "I do. All three of them."

  "How did I not know this?"

  Blake shrugged and released her hand. "You never asked, and it wasn't worth mentioning."

  "Wow. I'm impressed."

  "Eh. Go shower and I'll buy you that dinner and drink I promised. I think I'll grab a quick shower myself. Meet you out front in fifteen?" He handed her a towel and her water bottle.