Big Girl Panties (19 page)

“Alternate lunges and bicep curls,” he ordered.

“Lunges?” Holly immediately groaned out of habit. His eyes narrowed in warning and she swiftly closed her mouth. She bit back a smirk. Leg lunges were what started this whole mess in the first place. She began the exercise per his instructions.

“Lower,” Logan commanded after a moment. “Spread your legs apart wider.”

Holly tried to comply, but his voice had started to give her shivers. The same wording he always used suddenly sounded like innuendo. Of course, he hadn't told her to spread her legs wider the other night; he simply did it for her. It was maddening, trying to decide what was worse, his silence or his now-sex-charged instructions.

“Holly.” Logan's stern voice broke into her thoughts. “I said lower. Knee to the floor.”

And then he did it. He touched her. His hand shot out, playfully swatting her bottom.

Holly felt like she had been electrocuted. Her head snapped in his direction.

He was smiling innocently and gave her a wink. “You want to loosen up those sore muscles, don't you?”

Holly's knee went to the floor and everything after that was a blur.

And then he pointed to the Balzac.

Oh no, not the Balzac!
Holly felt dizzy with despair. They hadn't used The Balzac in weeks. He really wasn't playing fair! The Balzac was another one of their definitions in the Groody Training Terminology Dictionary. It was really a free-standing lateral pull-down machine without a bench, and had a different attachment from the standard bar. That attachment was a hook with two foot-long lengths of heavy rope. Knotted at the ends of the ropes were two heavy round . . . well . . . balls. The exercise was designed to work the triceps and consisted of standing in front of the ropes, grabbing the balls and pulling them past the waist, while separating the ropes as far as possible then returning them to the original position. From beginning to end, it was the most phallic thing Holly had ever seen. Even the way it hung on the hook looked like a pair of testicles. She had started calling it the “ball sac” under her breath for her own amusement, but it slipped out one day by accident. Logan overheard it and pestered her until she gave a full explanation. After a hearty laugh and accusing her of being twisted, he suggested calling it something a little more polite. He recommended the spin on the nineteenth-century French novelist and the exercise was the Balzac ever since.

But if that wasn't enough to take Holly to all the wrong places mentally, there was one other thing, something far more sinister about the Balzac. The single most important part of the exercise is keeping your elbows completely at your sides to isolate the tricep muscle, which is virtually impossible.

Sweet Jesus, he was going to touch her. And not just touch her.
Really
touch her. It was one of those exercises where he touched her every time. It was brutal on her nerve endings long before he took touching to a whole new level. It was easily as bad as a stretch, probably worse because of the intimate unknown variable. She wouldn't have been surprised to find out that they hadn't used it in weeks because it was too erotic for him as well. Now that he was sated, he could go back to torturing her. She walked over to where he waited, trying to appear focused, but her nerves were tighter than guitar strings.

She took her place in front of the Balzac and he took his spot right behind her. And as she grabbed onto the two balls to give them a controlled tug down, his hands pinned her elbows to her sides. He masterfully restrained her so that the only movement available to her was yanking those balls up and down and apart to pull the weight. And he wasn't going anywhere until the set was over. There was no way to tell whether he was a foot or an inch behind her. If she leaned back, just a bit, would she bump into all the best parts of him at once with his arms already halfway around her? Could she make those parts react the same way they did the other night? She could feel his breath on the back of her neck; it felt like a blow torch. When she started going too fast in the effort to get it over with, his grip on her tightened.

“Slow it down, girl. It isn't a race.” He breathed in her ear and she thought her heart actually stopped. No matter how close he was, it was too close.

Somehow Holly made it through the rest of her workout. Logan went back to being all business and she thought about getting her teeth cleaned. She tried to make up a grocery list. She considered purchasing a lizard to rid her house of unwanted bugs—anything to detach herself from her current situation. By the time he stretched her, she was like jelly, weak and spent from fending off his presence. He remained silent as he worked, pulling her legs in much the same way he had two nights before, giving little more than the occasional glance down at her to make sure she was still breathing. No witty comments or small talk was exchanged. With his hands impassively all over her and with her unable to do anything but lie there, sadness settled in Holly. He had already moved on, completely comfortable resuming their relationship where it left off. He wasn't even going to give her the courtesy of telling her he'd had a great time. And why would he? What did she know about the art of making love? She could practically have reclaimed her status as a virgin, at least before he'd gotten hold of her. She fought back the urge to cry, reminding herself that if she had known the outcome beforehand, she still would have jumped at the chance to have him, even if only for one night. He had been her fantasy fulfilled. She wouldn't disrespect it, no matter how much it hurt. When it was finally over, he reached for her hand and pulled her up off the mats in the same manner he always did.

Once she was on her feet beside him, Logan gave her the obligatory, “Great job.”

Holly nodded in a daze and wiped the sweat off her upper lip with the sleeve of her T-shirt, ignoring the towel in his hand. Not knowing what else to do, she took the first two steps in the direction of the front door.

Then she felt his hand on her hip. Dipping his fingers into the waistband of her pants, Logan purposefully pulled her back until she was flush against his iron chest. He wrapped his arms around her.

“Thank God that's over with.” He exhaled meaningfully right before kissing her. “What are we doing for dinner?”

Chapter Seventeen

I
t was official. Logan Montgomery, personal trainer to the pros, was off the market. At least as far as women were concerned. He stopped making calls to other women and stopped taking them as well. Messages from old lovers piled up and were erased without his even listening to them. Texts went unanswered. He still maintained his work schedule, but every spare minute he had was dedicated to sexing Holly Brennan. Every day, as soon as his last client left and he locked the door, he would head straight for her house with a sole purpose: wanting to hear her cry out his name as she came.

He practically went underground, with only Chase and Amanda having any real clue as to his whereabouts. That first session alone with Amanda had been torture. She was on her best behavior when she came in with Chase. Chase was uninterested, his focus on getting ready for the playoffs. But she was quiet, too quiet. Her smug little smile told Logan all he needed to know. When she came in later that day for her own session, Logan cut right to it.

“Go ahead, Amanda. Get it out of your system.” He sighed.

“I'm not allowed to talk about it,” she told him, the smug smile fully in place.

“Tell Chase I said thank you.” He winked at her, relaxing.

“But I told you so,” she replied happily before launching into a full-blown diatribe, complete with planning several vacations, holidays, and a wedding.

“I'm telling on you,” he finally said, pulling out his phone.

It was like having a new toy that he didn't want to share; at least that's what he told himself. Holly was different in so many new and wonderful ways. He felt like he never had enough of her. He couldn't seem to stop himself from taking her hard and fast, continuously afraid of spontaneously ejaculating the minute she touched him. Maybe it was because she told him she had never been with any other man except her late husband, which lent itself to a naïve and irresistible eagerness that drove him wild. Her soft touch across his hot skin acted like a match being struck, setting him ablaze. She cried out for him as if she was praying and he was her salvation. That first week he had trouble keeping himself from getting hard just thinking about her. It was exasperating and amazing, the ravenous desire waging war with the struggle to take back control over his own body.

He stripped her slowly and she let him, marveling at how soft she was. Each piece of clothing removed was an invitation to touch her never-ending curves and valleys. Her natural breasts, full and lush, would respond to his hands by becoming hard and jutted, not because they were designed that way by a plastic surgeon, but because of her arousal. Her dark round nipples begged to be licked and he would oblige, secure in the knowledge that she was feeling every single lap of his tongue, every nibble of his teeth. Her bottom bounced and jiggled joyfully with his kneading as well as his relentless penetration when he took her from behind. The slight roundness at her belly that remained despite the countless crunches he made her do began to remind him of a carnival ride, something he could hold on to as she willingly and without intimidation let him mold her into whatever position he chose to take her in.

But most of all, she gave, warmly, without hesitation or reservation. She was never shy about exactly who she was, laughingly telling him that she was built for endurance, not for speed. She never hid behind towels or sheets or darkness. Or ultimatums. She demanded nothing and expected nothing. Except for her kiss—her kiss demanded and expected his attention and accepted nothing less, gentle yet persistent. Every time he brought his lips to hers it was like the first time, and she responded with awe and magic and surprise. Every kiss good-bye ended up launching him back into the desire to possess her all over again.

They started sharing workouts together, making sure they locked the gym door. It always started out with the purest of intentions. They worked out diligently and seriously, paying homage to their respective body temples. But they each also secretly looked forward to watching the other's muscles in action, the rush of pheromones their sweat produced and the overpowering lust it subsequently provided. He ravished her on weight benches, in the shower room, and on his desk. He drank from between her thighs like she was an oasis in a desert and he was dying of thirst.

But when Logan was alone, his body drained and exhausted of every available ounce of testosterone, he would catch himself thinking,
How can I help her get the last of that weight off?
Or,
Maybe just a little bit of liposuction is in order
. He knew medically that she was an endomorph, that no amount of exercise and dietary changes, short of starvation, would have her reaching a single-digit size. He knew logically she was healthy and her body was as finely tuned and conditioned as any athlete's. She had followed every piece of advice he ever gave her. He preferred going to her house instead of bringing her to his to avoid any drop-bys that could lead to confrontations. He rationalized that the reason he never took her out was because she preferred a quiet existence, devoid of the hectic pace of the high-profile nightlife. He also knew he wasn't being completely truthful.

They were cuddled up in her bed late one night, their bodies entwined, mutual hands occasionally wandering. The John Mayer CD that had been playing had long since been replaced with pillow talk and then sleepy silence. Holly took her head off Logan's chest and leaned her chin on it, staring at his dozing chiseled features. As the pressure increased, he opened his eyes and gave her a thoroughly gratified smile.

“What?”

“What do you see in me?” she asked him.

“Is this a test?” He chuckled.

“Never mind. You don't have to answer that,” Holly replied, discomfited, and laid her head back down on his chest, making sure he couldn't see her face. She had posed a question she didn't really want to know the answer to.

Holly felt his arm, which was resting on her shoulder, tighten around her. It moved slowly down the slope of her back and up again, his fingertips creating a sensual pattern over her skin. His hand finally rested neatly on the indent of her waist. And then he spoke.

“I see a woman who takes pleasure in a lot of the same things I do and makes me laugh. Who loves to strive and sweat and doesn't complain even though she hates leg lunges. I see a woman whose inner strength matches her outer strength, which can also be said for her beauty. I see a woman who effortlessly brings out the best in me as a man.”

Holly remained with her face turned away, afraid that if she looked at him she would become overwhelmed. What he said was heartfelt and sincere, but in Holly's mind, it was also lacking. It sounded so diplomatic. Like he was enjoying everything she offered him but could easily live without it. She was positively smitten with him. He was just enjoying the time they were spending together. At least he was honest and didn't fill her head and heart with smarmy bullshit. She knew she would have to start thinking more like him, or she would be doomed when their time together was over. She took a deep breath and turned back to face him. He was smiling down at her, the same smile that still had the ability to take her breath away.

“Did I pass?” he asked as he pulled her up to bring her lips closer to his, his hands beginning to wander again.

His lips touched hers before she was forced to answer.

Chapter Eighteen

I
got a job,” Holly told him two weeks later as they were snuggling up on her couch, getting ready to watch a movie.

“You did?” Logan asked, mildly surprised and then moderately concerned. He wasn't aware that she had been looking for one. “Are you in trouble? Financially?”

“No no no,” she said quickly, reassuring him. “It's nothing like that. I just got to thinking it was time and an interesting opportunity came up.”

“An interesting accounting opportunity? Is that even possible?” he joked.

“Not exactly,” she replied tentatively, “although I will be dealing with some money. It's more like a customer-service position. I was in the Nike outlet the other day and got to talking to a guy who is the sales manager at a local gym.”

“You got to talking to a guy? About a local gym?” Logan felt his irritation meter switch on. Why was Holly interested in local gyms? Why was she talking to other guys? “Which gym?”

“Bodyessy,” she told him, noticing the distinct edge in his tone and that he'd gone from conversing to questioning.

“Bodyessy?” he repeated.

“Yeah. You know, like ‘odyssey,' but with a ‘B'? Their motto is ‘We give your bod an odyssey.' ”

“I'm very aware of it,” Logan said with a chuckle. They were an East Coast franchise outfit of about one hundred gyms specializing in hard-sell practices with long-term loophole contracts and slowly repaired leased equipment. “And just what are you going to do for them? Sales?”

“No. I'm going to be their opener.”

“Opener? He did tell you what the opener actually does, right?” he asked her in a tone more condescending that she would have considered him capable of.

“Yeah. They open the gym,” she responded in kind.

“You do realize they open at five in the morning?” Logan told her, almost moping as he pictured her alarm being set for three thirty in the morning and all their late-night lovemaking flying out the window. “And calling in sick isn't really an option. Those cookie-cutter gyms live and die by the unlocking of the door. I don't think they give you three strikes to be late either; it's two and you're shit-canned. You do realize that, right?”

“Of course I do,” Holly said, now starting to feel defensive and more determined than ever. “He explained the whole thing to me. I just have to turn on the lights, the music, and the equipment, get the cash register set up for the day, unlock the front door, and make sure that everyone who tries to get in is paid up. It doesn't really sound that hard. And I'm off by nine. The money isn't spectacular, but I'm guaranteed all weekends and holidays off. And they throw in a membership and a free training session once a week.”

“And why exactly do you need a free gym membership or a training session?” He attempted to reverse his attitude as well as his method of persuasion by sounding lighthearted and pulled her into his lap, nuzzling her neck. “You have twenty-four-hour-a-day access to a gym. Twenty-four-hour access to a trainer, too, come to think of it.”

“Well, that's just it,” Holly said slowly, trying to concentrate on the topic at hand and finding it difficult with his warm lips on her throat and his hand between her legs. “I don't want you to get sick of me.”

“Why don't you let me worry about that?” he said, turning the nuzzle into a nibble, this time on her earlobe.

“I don't want to get sick of you either,” she murmured, wanting to choose her words carefully and realizing there was no easy way to do so.

The nibbling stopped and his head popped up. “Beg your pardon?”

She could tell by the shocked look on his handsome face that she had said it all wrong. “That didn't come out right.”

“You're sick of me?” he asked her, his big brown eyes wide and disbelieving.

“Not at all,” she told him quickly, climbing off him and sitting back down on the edge of the couch, wringing her hands as she tried to offer a plausible explanation. “It's just that we're spending almost all our free time together, which, don't get me wrong, is great. I'm just afraid it's going to get old really fast, especially if I'm doing all my cardio workouts around you and your other clients. I'm starting to feel like a groupie.”

“I've never said or thought that, but whatever.” Logan sat back in the couch, crossed his arms over his chest, and went back to moping. “I suppose the next thing you're going to do is fire me as your trainer.”

“Of course not!” she gasped. “Have you lost your mind? I couldn't lose you if I wanted to! But even you've told me that every now and then, you need to shock the body by switching it up.” And then she smiled, leaning back into him and placing her chin on his shoulder. “And what could shock my body more than having some mediocre trainer put me through some lame paces on some shoddy equipment?”

Logan exhaled, unmoving, but shifting his eyes downward to meet hers looking up at him from his shoulder. “You're making me sound like a petulant child that you're trying to get to eat vegetables, you know.”

She batted her eyelashes dramatically up at him. “If the shoe fits, junior.”

He faked a roar and tumbled her backward onto the couch, grabbing both her hands in his and restraining her at the wrists above her head. He looked down from on top of her and began to address her strictly.

“You fully realize that most of the trainers at these chain-store gyms are nothing but hacks with dime-store educations and probably aren't qualified to hold your legs during an abdominal crunch, right?”

She made no move to escape. “Of course, my superior physical education mentor.”

“And that the free session they give you is really nothing more than an opportunity to sell you an overpriced package of more sessions?”

“I'll tell them not to bother. I'll tell them I train with the legendary Logan Montgomery, although, shit, if you want to talk about overpriced . . . ,” she teased.

“And because you're my grasshopper, if they try to tell you to do some crackpot exercise that you know isn't right, you won't do it?” he said, continuing to scold her while shifting both her wrists into one of his hands. With his free hand he gently traced his fingertips from the base of her throat slowly down into her shirt to where her breasts came together and lingered there.

“I'll fake an injury worthy of an Academy Award,” she promised, craning her neck upward in an effort to kiss him.

He moved his head up farther, deliberately keeping her from reaching him while probing deeper within her cleavage with his middle finger. “And finally, if some 'roid-raging insomniac starts going crazy because he didn't pay his monthly dues and still wants to come in, you won't do anything stupid and will instead call the police?”

“I'll let him in like he owns the place and patiently wait for the cops to come and Taser him,” she vowed, beginning to squirm provocatively beneath him.

“That's my girl,” Logan said, right before letting go of her wrists, wrapping his arms around her, and sending his mouth crashing down onto hers.