Blake gave me a thumbs-down, then flashed me a beautiful toothy smile. “You’re going to make me sore, aren’t you?”

“So sore you can’t walk,” I said with a naughty grin.

“Double entendre?” She laughed. “Nice.”

“Love coach. Kinda goes with the title.”

“Does it?”

“On your hands and knees.”

“What? To run?”

“No.” I laughed. “I’ve always just really wanted to say that. You know, all dominating . . . Hey, can I tie you up later?”

“No.” Blake’s cheeks burned red. “I highly doubt that’s part of the program.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it.” I jogged away from her.

With a curse, she followed. “The answer’s still no.”

I sped up. “Blindfold?”

“No!”

I turned and started running backward. “I guess that means no costumes either, huh?”

“Client.” She said the word slowly, then rushed past me. “That means the only man tying me up will hopefully be David.”

Something pinched the middle of my chest as I tried not to allow what she’d just said to seep through the little rips she was making in my heart. What the hell was wrong with me?

David.

A man could really grow to hate that name, and the person. And every other male in the universe who played basketball.

“I know why Gabi says she wants to kill you all the time,” Blake yelled hoarsely midburpee.

“Two more!” My chest hit the floor, and I pushed myself up to my legs and jumped into the air with a clap, then dropped again.

Blake was seriously holding her own. I didn’t even have to slow down, which was impressive. She only complained once we started doing death by burpees, which basically meant you do burpees until you lose the will to live.

“I.” She dropped to her chest. “Hate.” She tried to push herself up. “Burpees.”

“One more!”

Her arms trembled as she pushed herself up to her feet and finally managed to stand and do a weak jump. Her pretty face was dripping with sweat. With a wide smile, she held up her hand for a high five.

Was she high-fiving me?

After putting her through hell?

I hit her hand, then pulled her against my sweaty chest.

“Ahh!” She pushed against me. “Thanks for that. Clearly my workouts pale in comparison. You wouldn’t . . .” She glanced away. “Never mind.”

“What?”

“Do you work out like this every day?”

“Yeah.” I tossed her a towel and checked my watch. David was late, not that I cared. I’d forgotten about him even working out during our time in the gym.

“You can say no.” Blake put her hands in front of her. “But would you mind if I tagged along a few times a week? I can even pay you or something. My coach has really been after me to work on my cardio lately, and I think this will help.”

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have to pay me . . . It’s not like I’m a trainer. You can just do my workouts with me. I get bored being by myself, and for some reason Lex refuses to work out with me.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Blake joked, tossing her sweaty towel at my face.

“Hey!” I reached for her, then pulled her into my arms and set her against the mat on the ground, my body hovering over her. “You tired?”

“Exhausted.” She laughed. “But I love that feeling.”

“It’s the best,” I said, my throat suddenly dry as her eyes fell to my mouth.

“So”—I put some distance between our bodies—“I’ll help you stretch and—”

Blake’s eyes widened as she jerked her head to the right, as if to say, Look!

David was making his way toward us, head bobbing to the hip-hop pounding from his phone. I’d always assumed guys like him listened to Josh Groban. Hell, he even looked like a taller version of him.

“Stay calm.” I grabbed her leg and quickly pushed against it so that it was getting stretched toward her head, then placed my body over hers, my legs in between hers. Basically we were doing a Kama Sutra move with clothes on and no happy ending. Damn it.

Nodding, Blake closed her eyes and let out a little moan. “Ouch, that hurts.”

“Sorry.” My fingers fumbled as they moved down her calf to her thigh. “Shit, you’re tight.” Her muscles quivered beneath my fingers as I slowly massaged.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Right. There.”

I dug deeper with my hands, then continued stretching her until we were nearly chest to chest. She arched as my hand found the knot.

“Sorry.” I shared a wince with her as I continued massaging.

“Feels amazing.” The knot relaxed, and I moved on to her next leg. “Oh.” She nearly came off the mat.

“Doesn’t the PT help you guys out with this?” I asked, trying to keep my hands focused on actually stretching her, instead of moving from her muscles to parts that didn’t need stretching.

“He’s groped me three times,” she grumbled. “I think he takes his job a little too . . . personally.”

“Kick him in the nuts next time. I’m sure you could blame it on your incredible reflexes.” I pushed harder as I completely straddled her one leg while lifting the other high above her head. My body was really enjoying the stretch, but not because it was relieving tension. If anything, it was creating it, and it wasn’t like workout clothing was very forgiving. All she had to do was look down and she’d see just how excited I was to help her out in any way possible, day and night, night and day.