Page 27 of The Naughty List

I grin as I take turns landing solid hits on the pads. “Nah. But whacking you a few good ones might help relieve some of my pent up aggression.”

“You’re pent up? After your exhaustive research on all those vibrators I would’ve thought you’d have worked out all your aggression already.”

Little did he know, I’d been pent up since puberty. “You might be surprised.”

For a split second, our eyes meet and I lose focus. His chest and abdominal muscles flex and my gaze is drawn to them.

“Eyes up here, Rossi,” he says sternly.

I give the pads on his hands a few more solid whacks until I’ve worked up a decent sweat, then we switch.

Before I put the pads on my hands, I decide to give him a taste of his own medicine. Despite his request that I keep my clothes on, I pull my hoodie and tank top over my head and toss them onto a metal folding chair in the corner.

Jonah takes a long, hard look at my exposed skin. “Pink?” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“You got something against pink, Jonah?”

“I’m good with pink,” is all he says. His hand hits mine on the outside corner of the pad then slips.

Twice.

“Eyes up here,” I tease.

He takes a step back. “I just remembered I still need to, uh, get some cardio in. Let’s head upstairs.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” On our way, he stops at a glass-enclosed refrigerator and hands me a bottle of water. I down nearly the entire thing. “Where are the stairs?”

Jonah’s lips twitch. He jerks his chin toward the back of the building. “No stairs. Only two ways up.”

A rope and a climbing wall await us. Okay, so not ideal. But I can handle this.

“Which one do you want?”

He shrugs. “Either is fine.”

“I’ll take the wall,” I say, thinking it will be slightly easier.

I’m wrong.

Halfway up my shoulders are on fire.

“You okay, Rossi?” Jonah ask as he passes me on the rope.

“Yep. Just enjoying the wicked view of your ass.”

He laughs, reaching the platform and looking down at me. “Time is money, Rossi. Get a move on.”

The challenge sparks the competitive streak in me and I hustle to the top. He reaches a hand down and I let him pull me onto the platform. My legs are weak from the strain and I stumble, falling into his arms like a clumsy idiot.

“Easy, slugga,” Jonah jokes as my sweaty chest presses against his.

“I’m good,” I say, stepping backward.

Be professional. Do not let him see you sweat.

Guess it’s a little late for that last part.

I follow Jonah to a row of ellipticals and treadmills. He gets on a treadmill and ramps up the incline higher than I’ve ever seen a person set it before. I hop on the elliptical beside him.