Page 144 of Carnal Games

“Don’t be cute. I’m trying not to kiss you.” Stepping past me, he commands, “Do your yoga and stop being distracting.”

I do the opposite.

As he steps onto the treadmill that faces me, I warm up with basic stretches. When he speeds up, I give him my back andbend low in the downward dog. Through the gap between my legs, I see him checking out my ass. The look is so carnal, it’s a miracle I’m maintaining my position.

Our eyes lock.

I smirk and stretch my legs until I’m doing a split. His harsh exhale can be heard across the room. Moving into a child’s pose, I take a deep breath and lean forward while dropping my hips down to the mat. I feel the soothing burn in my abs as I look up, arching my back. Sensing Kian’s intense gaze from behind, I press my hips back before repeating it all over again.

Dirty scenes filter in my brain as I imagine him coming up behind me and grabbing my hips to yank me down on his cock.

I have never been so desperate to have one inside me.

I’m playing a dangerous game, teasing him while he can’t do anything about it. Perhaps I have a tiny vendetta against him for the three years he didn’t know about my existence.

It’s only fair.

I hear the treadmill die down and hear his footsteps round the room until he’s in my line of sight across the room. As I sit up in a kneeling position, I salivate at his tall and muscular stature, momentarily forgetting my next asana. I can make out each ab of his eight-pack set through the material of his black shirt. He’s hardly broken a sweat.

Kian is undoubtedly the sexiest man alive.

Deadly in his calmness.

Taking my move as a challenge, he ups the ante by picking up a jump rope. His veiny forearms tighten and flex as he grabs both ends, unrolling it like a leash.

“Pony” by Ginuwine comes on at the same time Kian begins skipping.

My throat goes dry at the titillating picture he paints. The rope is a blur and oddly hypnotizing. His upper body—it looks seconds away from bursting through his shirt. Every singlemuscle becomes pronounced as he jumps fast with ease and precision.

Fuck me! When did skipping become hot as hell and arousing?

The background music combined with him has me embarrassingly wet. One glance at his face reveals the little smirk on his lips.

Kian—1. Iris—0.

Before I can decide on my next move, he stops.

The whooshing noise sends a shudder down my spine. I feel the crack as if it landed on my bare flesh. I have to concentrate on breathing when, without any warning for my overworking heart, he whips off his shirt and exposes his chiseled abs and pecs.

My brain scrambles while my fingers dig into my thighs as I stare at the deep V of his hips, visible over his shorts hanging low around his trim waist. Jaw tight, eyes hooded, he closes the distance.

I tilt my head back as he stops to tower in front of me.

“Warmed up, rainbow?”

In all the wrong places. “Yeah.”

“Come here.” I take the hand he offers me and rise to my full height, obeying him like he’s my lord. Who wouldn’t when spoken to in that guttural tone that demands immediate obedience? “I’m going to teach you basic self-defense tricks.”

A tremor attacks my limbs as memories of the printing room flash in my mind. “What good will it do if I don’t see them coming?” I mutter low. “What’s the point if I’m just going to fall on the ground and freeze like a weak, pathetic girl?”

Strong hands cup my face and tilt my chin until I’m staring into a fiercely protective expression. “You’re stronger than you think, Iris. Your body is flexible. You just need to learn to use itto your advantage. It’s always better to be prepared than not at all.”

“I’m too short.”

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, caressing my blushing cheeks. “So stop talking down to yourself. I won’t have it.”

“Okay.”