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I made my way to my university office in a daze this morning, consumed with the thoughts that have been plaguing me all weekend.

And now, I’m brooding behind my desk, unable to do my work. Unable to do anything but think of how Olivia’s body felt against me on Thursday. I can’t seem to keep my thoughts from delving into the obscene.

Again.

How many ways have I imagined how her body would smash against mine with me over her, between her thighs, pumping into her.

I shake myself from the thought for the umpteenth time.

I don’t understand the growing obsession.

I’m waiting for her arrival, and I better get myself in line before she arrives.

But it’s impossible.

What would it feel like to grab handfuls of her ample ass? To cup and trace her soft stomach? To pull those giant tits into my mouth and suck?

How big are her nipples? Small little diamonds or saucers that I’d struggle to fit in my mouth?

Dropping my head into my hand, I groan. I never imagined how riled up, how attracted to her I would become. A slow progression over the last few days that’s left me half hard the entire weekend.

When she shows up, knocking lightly on my cracked door, I’m half in a daze, my hand over my mouth in an attempt to school my expression. I gesture for her to sit with my other hand, needing another moment.

She’s practically glowing, her skin and eyes bright. If she’s lost any sleep, she’s been doing it for something fun.

It takes every bit of my effort not to ogle her in the formfitting button-up blouse that displays her prominent chest and the way it makes her waist look tiny by comparison. Those jeans reach high across her middle, helping the illusion. She certainly knows how to play up her curves.

And her confidence …

I clear my throat. “Good morning, Olivia. You look well.”

The warmth in her smile adds another log to the flame. Rosy lipstick plays with the pink in her cheeks and how pale her skin is. “I am well, Dr. Wright. Are you well?”

I try to smile, but I’m sure it comes off as a grimace by the way her own fades. “It’s been a rough weekend, which apparently is showing.”

“I meant no offense?—”

Cutting her off with a way of my hand, I don’t want her to focus on my misery. “It’s alright, Olivia. Forgive me. It’s not your fault.”

Although it certainly is. She’s haunting me.

“Please, tell me about how your project is going. How your first session went.”

She fills me in on her small progresses—each of her participants have completed their first workout, gone for a walk over the weekend, and filled out a small questionnaire.

She even had them submit proof that they went on their walk—using the walking app on their phones and taking a picture of themselves after with a time stamp.

Smart. Creating accountability early on is important for establishing a new routine.

Olivia talks a little bit about their personalities and how much she enjoyed being able to train them on their first day.

“Their labs…weren’t great to start with, but that’s what I expected. I have faith that they’ll improve over the next twelve weeks.” Her green eyes are hopeful, proud, intelligent.

The combination is a bit intoxicating.

“What are your plans for when the twelve weeks are over?” I lean back, trying to let my muscles unknot. Everything in me has been so taut that it’s difficult to relax.

“I would love to keep working with them. If they’re up for it, but I can’t really say. I know twelve weeks is not very long. Six months would be better, but I’m not sure I can get the funding for that long.”

I nod. Maybe I can help her with that. She’s right. Six months would be better. Offer her more comprehensive results. Offer them a better chance for the changes to stick. “We can look into it.”

The we seems to perk her up, and her gaze softens on me.

“How often do you hold your exercise sessions with the group?”

“Three times a week. We’re meeting later this afternoon.” Her fingers twist together in her lap. Does she think I’m going to correct her? I have been known for it. A tough mentor.

It’s not why I’m asking.

“I would like to sit in and observe.”

Olivia sits straighter in her chair, pushing out those gorgeous breasts at me. Fuck, it takes everything inside or me not to stare at them, although I swear I can see those little buds hardening under her shirt.

Taking in a slow, deep breath, I glance at the paperwork on my desk, calming my thoughts. Redirecting myself.

“Okay. We start at three thirty, but most of them arrive about thirty minutes early to change and chat.”

I nod, watching her pull her confident mask back in place. Most of it is genuine. She’s smart. She knows what she wants and how to accomplish it.

It’s me that makes her nervous.

I don’t blame her. She’s completely wrecked me already.

“I’ll do my best to remain unobtrusive.” I stand, and she follows my lead.

Walking her to the door, I chance a small touch at the small of her back, and a spark drives up my arm, zapping me in my guts.

Breathing her in is pushing my luck, but she’s sweet and citrusy, and I want to drink her in like a mojito.

Once she’s gone, I close my door and sink back into the daydreams I haven’t been able to shake. What would her mouth taste like? Would her skin be as sugary as her scent?

How would her mouth feel on my skin? Around my cock?

I allow myself the fantasy of those rosy lips closing around my length, color bright and high on her cheeks as she peers up at me. As she swallows me all the way down. Tears streaming from the corners of her eyes as I fuck her throat.

And she doesn’t let a single drop of cum go to waste.

I’ve never had such depraved thoughts. Not that my sex life hasn’t been adventurous, but I’ve never been all that rough with the women I’ve had in my bed.

Fuck, would she let me take her right here in my office?

Or the one I have in the center?

In the storage closet? Or the lab table?

Shaking my head, I break myself out of the cycle again. I need a distraction.

Lunch has me walking to the center to grab food. I usually bring something with me since I pay for a meal service—it’s easier to get the custom macros for my diet that way—but I didn’t have the bandwidth to remember today.

As I check out, I spot Olivia sitting and laughing with Nick Salazar, and a small pang of jealousy hits me at how comfortable she is with him. But he’s her professor too.

Could I sit with them and have her be as easygoing with me there? Probably not.

I don’t give off an easygoing energy. I’m strict. Ruthless. Hard to please.

Would she be able to handle that?

Instead of interrupting them, I take my lunch to my office in the building. It’s smaller and more medically focused, but it’s a quiet reprieve to eat and distract myself with patient files.

A few appointments keep me from overthinking so that I feel more stable by the time I enter Olivia’s studio a little after three. A few people from her group have arrived already, so I tuck myself quietly in the corner by the door.

Olivia glances at me with a smile and a nod and chats with her subjects. The passion and care in her features reflects in theirs. Her energy is contagious. And her mere belief in them seems to make them want to prove her right.

Watching her has my view of her shifting, developing, deepening. Olivia is one hell of a woman, and I can’t believe I’d dismissed her as another big girl with a chip on her shoulder.

When she takes her place up front, she acknowledges the glances her group keeps sending my way. “Don’t worry about Dr. Wright. He’s here to judge me. Not you.”

The softness of her features and her gentle smile make the comment light and disarming. They’re used to her joking with them.

Most importantly, she glows like an angel in front of them. As they start moving, it only gets brighter. It’s hard to tear my gaze away from her.

She has nice control over her body, her movements are confident and smooth. She looks strong. Flexible. And her cardiovascular health is much better than her size would make me assume.

Her subjects have fun as she teaches them the moves to her dancing workout, laughing at their own mistakes and listening when she makes corrections.

How did the place she applied to as a personal trainer turn her down when she is so good at this?

Did they only see her size like I had when she first arrived in my office? Granted, our first conversation showed me more layers to her than her weight, but I’d still been held back by my preconceived notions.

Now though, Olivia has turned into one of the sexiest women I’ve ever pined after.

When they’re done, I approach. “Come meet me in my office at the university when you’re finished.”

She nods, eyes a little wide, but all of the energy surrounding her, inside of her, the glow of her skin…

I have to find space before I do something incredibly inappropriate in front of everyone. My feet are quick under me as I march back to my office. It’s late enough in the day for the halls to be relatively quiet.

It takes me several minutes of pacing my office to settle behind my desk and wait. I’m watching the door, gaze unfocused, hands braced against my mouth.

When the door creaks open, my eyes lock on her immediately. Her hair is damp, her cheeks rosy, her posture tentative.

I stand and clock her flinch at the sudden movement. “Close the door. Please.”

Slipping inside, she does as I ask, closing the door behind her and bracing herself against it, watching me like I’m a predator and she’s my prey.

Maybe that’s true because I’m desperate for a taste of her.

Her hands splay against the door behind her as I near, eyes wide, but she doesn’t seem afraid. Just unsure. Nervous.

“Sir?”

That word shudders through me, and I step closer. “Say it again.”

She bites her lip, and it pops free after a second, a little more confidence filling her eyes and posture as if that small clue made her understand what is happening right now. “Sir.”

Her voice is softer, breathier.

My hand finds the door beside her, making her tip her head back to look up at me. We’re so close now that I can practically feel her lush body against mine.

Her pupils dilate.

I suck in a slow, deep breath. “I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing you since we were smashed together on Thursday.”

Granted, I’ve thought about much, much more than that.

Her mouth parts in a little pant—those lips rosy and supple and ready to be kissed.

“It’s inappropriate. You should tell me to stop.” Because I’m leaning in, and she doesn’t move a muscle, mouth still tilted up toward mine, ready for mine to come down and take what I want.

Olivia is not going to stop me.

So, I give in, dropping in to kiss her. It’s so much softer than I’ve let myself want, but the spark has me holding back, testing the waters, tasting her in a reverent way.

Because if I let myself, we will fall into boiling water far, far too quickly.