Secret (Betrothed #9) - Penelope Sky Page 0,6

his hands protected by thick black gloves, and he did another set, breathing in a timely matter as he raised and lowered the weights. He was in black running shorts and workout shoes, his sculpted thighs and calves visible.

I watched him for a while, my heart beating quick and my palms beginning to sweat. His arms were so strong, thick from his shoulders all the way down to his forearms. When his skin was shiny with sweat, he looked even sexier, like this was some kind of free porn.

Jesus, he was hot.

I walked through the door and slowly came toward him, not wanting to alarm him because he obviously had no idea I was there. I moved behind him and let him finish. I didn’t mind waiting with a view like this. I wore a red dress with heels, my hair done because I’d planned to come over here after work.

When he was finished with his set, he sat up and wiped his face with his towel. With his arms on his knees, he leaned forward, his eyes on the ground. After a few seconds, he raised his gaze to look at himself in the mirror.

His eyes moved to mine immediately.

His face was tinted red from exertion, new beads of sweat forming the second he wiped his face. His chest rose and fell deeply because he was still tired. He didn’t give a flash of alarm at my unexpected presence, always calm. His eyes looked me over, trailing down my body to my heels, appreciating the way I looked. Then he pulled the headphones off his head. “Damn.” When he wore his intense expressions, he was difficult to read, so it was sexy when he spoke his mind. He set the headphones aside and rose to his feet, his muscles pumped with blood after his workout.

I walked to him, my heels loud against the hardwood floor. I couldn’t believe this six-foot-three hunk was mine, that I got to enjoy the most masculine man on this planet.

He didn’t lean down and kiss me or touch me. “I’ll give you a better greeting after I rinse off.”

“I don’t mind.” My palms flattened against his sweaty chest, my fingertips immediately soaked from the moisture. I moved into him and kissed his sweaty lips, tasting the potent salt on my tongue.

He kissed me back but still didn’t touch me, like he didn’t want my dress or hair dirty. But he could still kiss me well without cupping my neck or my cheek, could rely on his lips to make my knees tremble.

My hands slowly streaked down his chest, making pathways in his sweat. I could feel his muscles twitch from his workout, feel how much heat his body naturally produced. I pulled his bottom lip into my mouth and gave him a gentle bite before I pulled away.

Now, his gaze had darkened, as if I had the exact effect on him as he did on me, as if I could floor him with a simple embrace. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my neck, wiping his sweat on my skin before he pulled away. He grabbed his headphones, water, and towel from the floor and walked out with me. “I’ll take a shower, and we’ll have dinner.”

“I’d prefer it if you fucked me first.”

He turned to me, his lips slightly raised in a smile at my bluntness. “Whatever my woman wants.”

We took the stairs back down to the second floor, and on the way, I grabbed my bag that I’d left on the couch. He walked beside me as he guided me down the hallway to his bedroom. The door was already open, so he stepped inside, revealing a sleek master bedroom. One side of the room was all floor-to-ceiling windows, and discreetly tucked at the top were the shades that would roll down and cover everything so he could block out the sunlight and sleep in. A king-size bed was against the wall, covered in a gray comforter that matched his gray-stained hardwood floors. He had a large TV on the wall, a desk in the corner that had his laptop, and a big walk-in closet. On the other side of the room was an entryway that led to a large bathroom.

I walked to his dresser and set my bag on top.

He took his clothes into the closet, tossing them in the dirty laundry bin for someone to wash later. His closet wasn’t stuffed with suits and ties like my brother’s