Page 51 of Coveted

For a moment, my brain stops working. I just stand and look.

He’s utterly focused on lifting weights, his jaw firm and eyes cast downward. His bare, tanned shoulders are slick, and his dark hair is damp at the temples. Veins pop against his bulging biceps and forearms.

A bead of sweat trickles from between his pectorals and runs over his abs like water on a washboard. A very tanned washboard ending in a taut V-cut. His thighs and calves are well-built and defined.

Squaring up to the rack, Lucan rests a loaded barbell across his shoulders. Chalk dusts his palms where he grips the bar. He flexes his fingers against the steel and my stomach does an involuntary backflip.

God. God.

Stalkers shouldn’t be allowed to look this good. It’s an unfair predatory advantage.

As he lowers into a squat with controlled precision, the muscles in his back shift under his skin. He has muscle groups I never knew existed.

The amount of weight he lifts seems impossible. But he pushes up anyway, raising the bar with one smooth motion. Metal plates rattle softly as he locks the lift, before stepping forward to rack it.

Only then does he notice me in the darkened doorway, his focused eyes snapping to me.

For a split second, neither of us moves. I’m suddenly sharply aware that I’ve walked uninvited into his private space.

He acts first, pulling off the headphones. “You’re early.”

How can he be so cool all the time? Nothing about this situation seems to unsettle him.

Does he ever feel uncertain or uncomfortable about anything? Doesn’t seem like it. Is that a money thing or just a Lucan thing?

He grabs a towel to wipe his torso, while I force my gaze away. I don’t want him getting the wrong idea. His body may be conventionally perfect, but he’s still a huge creep.

He walks over, raising a brow. “See something you like, Sadie?”

My voice comes out too high. “No.”

“No?” Amusement darkens his eyes, as if nothing’s funnier to him than my clear discomfort. “You don’t like my body?”

“I wasn’t looking.”

He flicks the towel around his neck, holding both ends. “Maybe I need to get closer.”

“What you need is a shower and to put a shirt on.”

Lucan Hale can’t make me flustered just by existing. I refuse it.

“There’s a shower right here.” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “Want to join me?”

My cheeks burn. “You’re gross.”

“Yet you came to my house.”

“For a different reason.”

“Yeah, I know.” He rolls his eyes. “To get your hands on my weapons. I’ll deliver, don’t worry.”

I fold my arms. “I’m not worried.”

“Really?” He walks away. “Because you look mighty worked up about something. Can’t be me though.”

“You wish.”

When he disappears into the shower room, I rub my face like I’m trying to erase myself.