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I’m a sucker for compliments, what can I say.
“Sweetheart, the only thing you’re going to hurt if we let you loose in this gym is yourself,” I chuckle, shaking my head.
“Why don’t you let us teach you some proper form?” Eric offers. “Might be useful if you don’t want to end up in the hospital.”
Oh, boy. She doesn’t like that either.
I can see the nostrils flare on her delicate little nose. Her chest heaves beneath her sports bra. I can practically see her heart rate increase as she takes a deep breath, ready to let us have it.
But here’s the problem with women trying to breathe around us: pheromones make it fucking hard for a girl to keep her head straight, and since we’re constantly hitting the gym so hard we’re almost always dripping with sweat…
This little bitch’s temper is quelled with just one whiff.
“Fine,” she snaps. “Let’s see what you jackasses know, then.”
I look at Eric with the biggest fucking smile on my face. Like, are you seeing this shit?
The look he gives me in response isn’t one that I’ve seen since we were rangers together in Afghanistan.
It’s a look that says, Follow my lead, Lieutenant. We’re going in.
Chapter 4
Kara
These guys are really getting on my fucking nerves. I don’t understand why they feel the need to get all in my business and my workout just because they’re so fit…and ripped…and muscular.
I mean, okay, they’re gorgeous. But that doesn’t mean they can just invade my space.
In fact, if they weren’t so hot, I would’ve told them off by now. Which is shitty to say, but seriously, it’s harder to turn guys down when they’re this attractive.
There are plenty of other girls in here that they could have cherry picked to get all up close and personal with, but they picked me. I can’t tell if I’m more self-conscious of my body under their gazes, or if I just feel lucky to have such eye candy to stare back at while we sweat.
I scout out the rest of strength training section and land on a large, semi-familiar contraption. I mean that in the sense that I’m pretty sure I saw it in a Rocky movie one time?but that’s hardly the same thing as being an expert.
I make my way over.
Chase and Eric follow me.
…okay. I sit at the rowing machine, puzzled by my new fans.
What do they think they’re going to do here—row it for me?
I shove the key through the hole to add 60 pounds of weight. This seems like a good place to start. I can just adjust it from there, I guess…and if I can’t, I’m sure one of my new shadows will jump in and do it for me.
“You boys wanna take a selfie?” I snark up at them. “Or do you just like to watch?”
I see them both shift in their stances, crossing their arms over their chests and tilting their heads back so their chins jut out, all sexy and stuff.
God, could they be any hotter?
But they don’t say anything back to me, so I turn my attention back to the task at hand.
Here goes nothing. I scoot back and stretch forward to grab the weights. I pull my entire body back and forth and bring my arms in close.
The two of them don’t move a single gorgeous, perfect muscle. They just stand there, bulging arms crossed, observing me. Part of me really wishes they’d just walk away. I came here to run away from Holly-Ann’s bad influence, and these guys are making me blush while I’m trying to do good for myself.
Drooling over two super hot guys is not conducive to a focused workout. Neither is becoming hyper-conscious of my body while I wonder what they’re thinking while they stare at it.
