Page 22 of Not On Your Life

I scratch my jaw. “Yeah. That.”

Her brows narrow like she doesn’t believe me.

I have no clue why not. I was so persuasive.

“Fine. That’s simple enough. If you want to bulk up, just let me be in charge.”

My lips part.

“Of your workouts.” She clarifies quickly. There’s the slightest tinge of pink on her cheeks, and I love it.

“Tell me what to do, boss,” I smirk, which is the wrong thing to do.

She picks up a dumbbell and shoves it at my chest. “We will start with arms today.”

And that’s the last time I’m able to take a full breath for the next forty-five minutes.

My arms are nothing but Jell-O clinging to my sides as Maddie lifts the forty-five pound weights off the barbell and back onto the racks like they weigh nothing. I don’t even have the energy to pry my eyes off of her. She’s impressive. And beautiful. And…glaring at me again.

I sit up on the bench and chug half my water bottle. Sweat drips into my eyes, and I pull up the bottom of my shirt to wipe it away.

Maddie has gone silent for the first time in the last forty-five minutes, and I glance up to catch her eyes trained on my abdomen. The corner of my lips curl up. I clear my throat and drop my shirt.

She blinks and looks anywhere but my face. “I uh, forgot to get your BMI before we started training,” she says before abruptly walking away. I’m too tired to follow. With my body, anyway. My eyes are glued to her, tracking her in the mirror as she winds through the gym and disappears at the front desk. She comes back a moment later and motions for me to follow her. I don’t have the energy to question it.

Halfway down the main hall, she unlocks a door to a room, and we step inside. A light flicks on, illuminating a blinding white room and a single machine that has all the makings of a 1900s electrocution device.

I fold my arms. “Is this where you kill me?”

She turns from the machine and stands up straighter. “If I wanted to kill you, I could.” She narrows her eyes until they turn into adorable dark slits. She looks as friendly as a Siamese cat. A wild and rabid Siamese cat. “And I’d get away with it, too.”

That was the opposite of seductive, but my heart rate shoots through the roof anyway. I lift a brow. “Seems you’ve thought this through. Do you want to run it by me first, so we can work out the kinks in the plan? I’d hate for you to drop my body in the desert only to run out of gas on the way back.”

“Of course not.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s basic murder 101. Always have enough gas to get to Mexico.”

“Mexico, huh? Is that where they find my naked corpse?”

“Why on earth would you be naked?” She scowls.

“Because you killed me in the shower.” I snicker, the fun of the game lighting a fire in my soul.

“I would not—” She cuts herself off then closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m done with this.”

“Giving up so soon?” That’s not like her.

She ignores me and pushes a button on the machine. Nothing happens, so she kicks the base a few times and the machine sputters to life like an ancient space heater.

“How old is that thing?”

She shrugs. “It could be newer.”

“I feel like I should sign a waiver to get on this?”

Her lips twitch, and there goes my heart rate again.

I freeze, satisfaction creeping up my spine. “I’m sorry,” I say. “What was that?”

“What was what?” She turns and studies the machine like it’s going to self-destruct. It wouldn’t surprise me.