Taking Back Beautiful (3 page)

As a dental receptionist, I’m used to making small talk. Putting other people at ease is part of my job. I just have a hard time putting myself at ease. So I start talking about anything and everything to Mr. Cello. Before I know it, we’re talking like best friends. I can tell you that this isn’t normal. Putting people at ease with small talk is one thing. Having a genuinely enjoyable conversation is entirely another. But it’s happening between me and Mr. Cello. When I realize this, I go back to being nervous again. I blurt the next thing that comes to mind, otherwise I’m going to fall off this treadmill out of fear. “So, um, what was your name?”

“Apollo.”

I laugh in his face. “That’s not your name!!”

He smirks, “Is too.”

“Nobody names their kids after Greek gods.”

“Mine didn’t.”

“Did
not
?”

“Nope.”

“Um, last time I checked, Apollo is the Greek god of the sun.”

“He’s also the god of archery and art. And music and poetry and just about everything else you can think of.”

“How do you know that?”

He shrugs.

Okay, I must’ve woken up in an alternate universe this morning because guys this hot don’t know anything about Greek mythology. I, on the other hand do, because I loved reading about mythology in school. Nothing made me happier than burying my nose in a book so I could read about all the fabulous goings-on of the gods and goddesses. So much juicy drama and intrigue, murder and mayhem. Yes, the gods are terrible people.

I shake my head, “So, if your parents didn’t name you after the god Apollo, who did they name you after?”

“Have you ever seen Rocky?”

“Like, Rocky and Bullwinkle? The cartoon?”

He frowns, “No. The boxing movie. With Sylvester Stallone.”

“Oh, I don’t like violence. So no. Never seen it.” I smile and he nods and stares into my eyes, which fuels my nerves. I need to think of another question quick. “What’s your last name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Armstrong.”

“Apollo Armstrong? A.A.?” I grin, “I bet that means you were first in line all through school.”

His face sours. “Something like that.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to…” I can tell I hit a nerve, but I have no idea why.

“Forget it.”

“I’m sorry, I just…”
don’t know what to say when I get this crazy nervous.

“Don’t worry about it.” He tilts his head and gazes at me with his golden sunshine eyes. His eyes rival an actual sunrise.

I’m going to swoon.

Instead, I nearly trip and fall off the treadmill.

I struggle to regain my footing, white-knuckling the safety bar as I get my feet underneath me. I am such a klutz.

“You should slow that down a notch.” He reaches over and presses beeping buttons until my treadmill slows down.

I’m blushing from the tips of my toenails to the ends of my long frizzy hair, which is currently pulled back in a thick ponytail. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he smiles.

I expect him to start laughing but he doesn’t. His smile is genuine. That’s proof that I’m in an alternate universe. Or I did die and go to heaven earlier and this is the after life. It’s certainly good enough to be.

“I was gonna say that my dad named me after Apollo Creed, the villain in Rocky 1 and 2.” He beams with excitement, obviously remembering the movie. “My dad and I must’ve watched that movie a million times when I was growing up. It’s a classic. You should see it.”

The look on his face makes me want to see it. And I never watch sports movies or sports anything. But I would watch nothing
but
sports if he was by my side. “I should,” I smile. “It sounds interesting.”

“Would you believe they’re having a midnight screening of it Friday night at the Egyptian in Hollywood?”

I laugh, “No they aren’t.” I might have zero experience with men, but even I can detect something that’s too good to be true.

He chuckles, “You’re right. But I couldn’t think of a good way to say I have all the Rocky movies on DVD and I watch them at my place all the time and you’re invited if you ever want dinner and a movie.”

Is he lying?

He must be lying.

The look on his face says he’s not.

I swallow hard then mutter, “I would—”

WHAM!!

I fall face first on the treadmill and go shooting off the end like a slingshot. Thank goodness I’m covered in cushions. I tumble off the end and land on the rubber floor in a heap.

Apollo vaults off his treadmill like an Army Ranger jumping out of an airplane and kneels beside me. “Are you okay, Daphne?” His concern is obvious.

“I think I broke my face,” I grimace, “and my boobs.” I struggle to a sitting position and hold my face in my hands. People are staring, but I’m so distracted by Apollo, I barely notice.

“Let me see.” He pulls my hands tenderly away.

He’s touching me again.

I quiver.

“Is it broken?” I moan.

“What, your nose?”

“No,” I giggle. “My whole face.”

He chuckles and smiles at me, his eyes searching my features. “Nope. Everything looks perfect to me.” His sunshine grin relaxes me. He really does have an amazing smile. And those golden eyes mesmerize.

And the way he says the word perfect in relation to me melts my heart.

He winks, “Now that you’re all warmed up, I think it’s time for you to get pumped.”

That was innuendo! I heard it! I just got innuendoed by the hottest man on the planet!

Oh. My. Gosh.

I didn’t realize heaven was
this
good.

Chapter 4

DAPHNE

“Are you sure we’re allowed to do this? Here? It seems so…” I can’t even finish my sentence but I want to say it seems so scandalous.

“I’m the trainer, Daphne. I think I know the rules,” he says gruffly. “So do another squat.”

“Right. Sorry.” I feel stupid. I stand with my feet shoulder width apart and I have an empty weight bar on my shoulders. To me, it weighs a million pounds. I also feel stupid because I probably insulted him by questioning his authority. That’s me: Daphne Bowman, S.H.W.

What does S.H.W. stand for?

Social Half-Wit.

It’s my usual title when I’m around men I’m attracted to. I may be good at small talk at the office, but when I’m around hunky men?

S.H.W.

“Another squat,” he barks. If he hadn’t been so nice earlier, I would think he was being a demanding prick.

I squat down, my thighs trembling.

I’m sure you’re wondering what’s so scandalous about doing squats at a gym. Embarrassing, maybe, because a child could squat an empty weight bar. But me? I’m struggling and sweating after only five reps. Here’s the scandalous part: there’s a mirror in front of me. Every time I squat down, my knees go out. In layman’s terms, I’m spreading my legs. Which means I can plainly see my hoo-ha in the mirror right in front of me. Well, it’s covered by my lycra leggings. But I can see it. So can Apollo.

I swear he’s staring.

Despite my extra long active Tee, which hangs below my waist, it bunches up every time I squat. In essence, I’m putting on a free show.

“Arch your back,” he demands. “You have to stick your butt out. Do another one.”

My eyes flash.

I’m entirely certain this kind of talk is completely inappropriate for a personal trainer. But none of the other gym members lifting weights around us seem to care. I can’t say that I mind either.

I squat down again and this time, instead of staring at my crotch, he stares at my ass.

“Mmmm, just like that. Perfect.”

I almost fall over laughing. That is most definitely not appropriate! But I’m all kinds of turned on. When I squat down yet again, the image of him lying naked on the floor beneath me with a rock hard cock explodes into my mind. My lady parts clench. I think it has something to do with the way the rest of me is clenching every time I do a squat. It’s working
those
muscles. Yes, there’s no doubt in my mind: doing squats is definitely scandalous.

And I’m loving every second of it.

I push up with my legs and start to wobble because my muscles are completely fatigued. “I’m gonna fall,” I mutter, starting to panic.

“I’ll spot you,” he says. He comes up right behind me and squats down, matching my position. He is literally three inches behind me. I feel his body heat. “Two more.”

“Are you sure?” I nearly gasp. His pelvis is right behind mine. If I were to suddenly sit down, I would sit right on his muscular lap. And we all know what’s in men’s laps.

“Yeah. Two more. You’ve got this. And I’ve got you.”

He can have me any way he wants. I squeeze my legs hard and start to rise.

“That’s it,” he grunts. “One more. Go down.”

I want
him
to go down. Maybe later. I bend my knees and my butt brushes across his black khakis.

Gulp.

He. Is. Hard.

No, not muscular. I figured that out earlier when I first laid eyes on him. I mean cock hard. There’s a steel torpedo in his pants, or in this case, shorts. I would shoot straight up to standing because I’m so surprised, but my legs are too tired.

“All the way down,” he grunts. “Go deep.”

My knees buckle. There’s no way I’m standing up after hearing those words. “I’m gonna fall!”

His arms come up from behind and hook under mine. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Go all the way down.”

Okay, this has gone well beyond inappropriate. Or even scandalous. This is X-rated. But I go down anyway. When I get to the bottom, my legs are done. “I can’t stand up,” I whimper.

“I’ve got you.” Instead of lifting me up with his arms through my armpits like I would expect, he pushes up with his pelvis.

Oh, that’s it. That hit the spot. Literally.

All the strength goes out of my legs.

But he lifts me up anyway, pushing with that pelvis of his. If I wasn’t so attracted to him, I would insist he stop. But I am, so I don’t. I would like to insist he never stop, but I’m not that brave. He pushes me up to standing.

I gasp, breathless. “Was that one or two? I don’t think I can do another one.” I am really out of shape. Not that I ever was in shape.

“Do one more for me, Daphne.”

Our eyes meet in the mirror in front of us.

Heat pours off him from behind me.

His hardness presses against the crack of my ass.

This is not only the sexiest thing I could possibly imagine, it’s the first time anything genuinely sexy has ever happened to me. Ever. I’ve never even been on a date. And I certainly skipped prom and all that other high school foolishness.

“One more, Daphne. I’ll help you.”

I sit down suddenly, wanting desperately to have him inside me. I may have no experience with men or dating, but I know what sex is. I have fingers. I nearly moan out loud when I feel his hard heat.

We go down together.

“Watch your form in the mirror,” he commands.

Speechless, I nod, my eyes locked on his. Form? What’s he talking about? I can’t stop looking into his gorgeous sunshine eyes.

We go down all the way to the bottom.

I am wide open. My legs
and
the other part.

He stares right at my center.

I swear, his gaze makes it burn.

“Do it,” he mutters in my ear. “Squeeze your thighs and take the weight. This time it’s all you.” His soft cello tones make these by far the sexiest words ever said by a man to a woman.

“I can’t,” I wince. I really have no strength left. Whether because I’m so out of shape or because I’m overwhelmed by the sensuality of the moment, it doesn’t matter.

“You can. I’ve got you. Squeeze as hard as you can.”

I would like nothing more than to squeeze him as hard as I can. With my insides.

“Push, Daphne.”

Oh, gawd. I clench my thighs as hard as I can. This time, everything inside me clenches too. I can barely do this. But I push and push and I start to rise.

“That’s it. Push.” His hips and thighs brush mine. “Push as hard as you can, Daphne. Push for me.”

I do. And that’s it. Warmth blooms through me and I have an orgasm. Not a huge one, but I know what one is and I just did. I came.

“Do it,” he grunts softly in my ear. “Push hard.”

Thank God I’m wearing these moisture wicking leggings
and
extra thick granny panties beneath because I’m soaked. I just hope it doesn’t show because Apollo is staring straight at it. “I can’t,” I moan. This time I really can’t. My legs are all out of gas.

His hips thrust into me and his arms pull me against his hard chest and he stands us both up. I’m essentially sitting on his erection. I never want to stand up again. I’ll sit here forever while he fucks me through his khakis. I mean, if he’s okay with that.

He lifts the bar up over my head, taking it from me. It’s easy for him to get the bar over my head because he’s so tall. He sets it on the metal rack in front of the mirror with a clang then immediately sits down on the edge of the rack, which is a waist-high horizontal metal beam.

That was weird. Why did he sit down so fast?

He folds his hands in his lap and smirks. “So, ahh… good job on those squats.”

I stifle a giggle.
How cute. He’s hiding his hard on.
“I’ll say,” I grin. “Is that, um, normal? I mean, for you to, um, spot me like that?” By “spot” I mean fuck.

He knows what I mean. He blushes. Yes, actually blushes. It’s hard to tell because he has tan skin, but he’s blushing. “Uh, yeah. Spotting is a safety precaution.”

I almost say,
If you were taking safety precautions just now, you would’ve worn a condom
. But I don’t. I just smile and giggle. “What’s next?”

“Uh, why don’t we take a minute to rest. You look like you need a minute to catch your breath.”

“You look like you need a minute to—”
jerk off while I watch. Or fuck me.
I don’t say anything, but I think he can read my thoughts because his blush intensifies and we lock eyes.

We both start snickering.

“You’re dangerous,” he chuckles.

“I’m dangerous?! You were the one who—!” I stop myself again. I can’t believe we’re having this moment.

But we are.