While they kept talking back and forth, I hesitated in place, wondering if I should hurry forward to stack the towels or turn and run.
The shelving units were practically a solid wall, though, with only thin slats open to the gym beyond. The chances of them seeing me were slim.
I stepped forward and attempted to ignore the conversation.
It had been somewhat easy up until Callan admitted he needed something, and the woman asked whether it was pleasure or pain.
My stomach fluttered over those words, but I bit the inside of my cheek and fought to let it go, choosing instead to begin stacking the towels from the bottom shelf to the top.
Crouching down, I froze in place when the woman sat on the bench just on the other side of the shelf from me, her voice going quiet as heavy footsteps approached her.
Angling my head just right, I could see through to where Callan was standing, my heart lurching with one painful thump to see him only partially dressed.
He was magnificent. There was no other word that came to mind, his body primed and ready, a dizzying form of smooth, hard muscle and slick skin from sweat.
My eyes danced over every shadowed ridge of his abdomen, up higher to a broad chest and a set of shoulders that shouldn’t have been real. My gaze caught on the swirl of a tattoo I hadn’t noticed before, the line of it leading down his right arm to define the bulge of his bicep.
I think I stopped breathing for a while as I studied him, my eyes wide and thighs clenched.
Callan, regardless of everything I hated about him, was undeniably gorgeous. As if his attitude and eyes weren’t dangerous enough, whatever God had designed him wanted to make sure that his body was the most lethal of weapons and the most tempting of lures.
And while I’d crouched there frozen in place, he’d walked forward to approach the woman on the bench, his arms reaching forward to lock his hands on the shelf while she angled her head up to look at him while her fingers slid over the waistband of his shorts.
One tug and those shorts slid down his muscular thighs to crumple on the floor at his feet. I stifled a groan to see what else the gods had endowed him with.
The woman reached to grip the thick shaft of his cock, but his hand moved so fast to grab her wrist that she squeaked, a visible tremble over her body, her other hand reaching up until he could trap them both in his strong fingers and lift her arms over her head. Pinning them back against the shelf so far that her chest arched forward, he said one word only, a command that was impossible to ignore.
“Open.”
Her lips must have fallen apart, not that I could see them. But mine opened as well. And as soon as I realized what I was doing I snapped my mouth closed and blushed.
Callan stepped forward and the woman’s mouth took every inch of him, a slow crawl of rock hard flesh over pouty lips. How the hell wasn’t she choking?
The question faded as soon as his body moved, and I damn near lost it to see the way the muscles in his abdomen rolled and flexed with each thrust of his hips, almost moaned to hear the wet sounds coming from the woman’s mouth as she struggled to suck his dick.
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
It wasn’t like I was an innocent virgin witnessing sex for the first time, but I still had never experienced something as hot as this.
It was only then that I shook myself of the fascination and realized I should not be crouching where I was. Callan hated me enough. For this, he would kill me.
Quickly stuffing towels away, I slowly pushed to my feet as I filled each shelf, my eyes seeking each tiny slit to peek through as I stuffed the last towel in.
I was at my full height when I dared look one more time and found a pair of whiskey eyes pinning mine through the slat. My heart stopped with a painful rattle.
Oh my God...
Callan’s dark stare didn’t waver. His body didn’t stop fucking that woman’s face. And she had no idea I was standing here.
But he did.
Knowing I was as good as dead when this moment ended, I was still a rabbit trapped.