Lovely Trigger(100)

I did still go out of my way to work out at an upscale gym, instead of just building one in my house. I had the room. I certainly had the money. I figured it was only a matter of time before I resorted to that, too.

The strange part of it was, I wasn’t worried about it because I was lonely. I was worried because I wasn’t. I did miss being with a woman in the literal sexual sense, but that was about it. I’d considered the idea of hiring a prostitute briefly, but even that seemed like an ordeal. I detested breaking the law. It was so very chaotic.

A familiar figure moved onto the machine next to me, and I met smiling light green eyes in the mirror, nodded once briefly, then looked back down.

She was a shapely little blonde woman that had started sharing my gym hours nine days ago.

Girl, I corrected myself. She was a girl, way too young for me to even sneak a long glance at, though I was only human, and she was wearing next to nothing, so I’d caught many, many glances.

She probably thought I was dad material, I told myself, as she started to jog on the machine, her full, perky breasts bouncing with every smooth step.

She really needed to go shopping for a more supportive sports bra, I thought to myself, my eyes catching on her, then darting away, then glancing again within a few bounces.

She wore only a hot pink sports bra and the tiniest skintight white lycra shorts I’d ever seen in my life. Her abs were toned, waist tiny, her skin smooth in a way that happened only in the very young.

Way, way too young for you, I reminded myself, my furtive gaze catching on her lithe hips as she jogged her sexy little heart out.

My eyes moved up to her face, and I flushed to find her watching me watching her. I looked down and kept on jogging.

There’d been no censure in her eyes, and so I found mine wandering back to her face.

She was beautiful. Not a scrap of makeup on, her white-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and still she could’ve stopped traffic. A real bombshell. None of it was artificial either, just plain old good genetics at work.

She was friendly, too. I wasn’t sure why, but she usually took the machine next to mine, if it was empty, though there were lots to choose from. She always had a smile for me, too.

Maybe I reminded her of her dad. Or f*ck, her grandpa.

It didn’t bear thinking about it.

I’d never been with a younger woman, let alone one that much younger. Hell, she’d probably give me a heart attack. I shook off the thought. A flawless little thing like that wouldn’t give me a second glance, and I told myself that was a good thing.

For all I knew, she could have been jailbait. Needless to say, for a man that’d never even had a speeding ticket, even the idea of that was too scandalous to linger on.

Still, my eyes were drawn, time and again, to her perfect figure jogging hard on that treadmill. Her legs were incredible, long and slender, bare from the top of her thigh to her ankles, and so toned and tan.

I made myself look away and not look back.

I hit the one-hour mark on the machine when I saw her slow and stop out of the corner of my eye. This had become a pattern, too. I did exactly one hour of cardio, before I hit the free weights. She seemed to be working a similar routine, and every day I saw her, it became even more similar.

I almost jumped in surprise when she approached me directly, standing on the very front of my machine, to get my attention.

My eyes traveled slowly up, trying not to linger on the way her breasts rose out of her sports bra’s neckline as she leaned into my machine. She was spilling out of the thing.

She beamed at me.

I swallowed hard, catching the side bar and swinging first one leg, and then the other, onto the footrests on the sides, coming to a stop.

I popped out an ear bud, raising my brows in what I hoped was a look of polite interest.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey,” I panted back, shutting the treadmill down. May as well quit, since I’d reached my goal.

She handed me my towel, and I took it, immediately wiping my brow. This was a new development and a strange one, to be sure.

She held up the second towel, my OCD towel, if you will. “I saw that you have two. I forgot mine. You mind if I borrow it?”

I shook my head. “Go for it. Glad I could help.”

She smiled again. Her teeth were gorgeous, straight and white against her tan skin. “What’s your name?” she asked me.

I was caught off guard, and so it took me a few extra beats to answer awkwardly. “Alasdair.”

She raised her brows, looking intrigued. “Nice name. It has a lot of character. Do you shorten it at all, or should I call you that, Alasdair?”

Hearing her say my name made me feel indecent. Just beastly. I briefly considered cutting my workout short. “Sometimes my friends call me Dair.”

“Dair. I like that too. And are you daring, Dair?”

“Not particularly,” I said quickly, my heart pounding. I couldn’t quite believe that she was hitting on me, but if she was, I needed to put a quick stop to it.

Way too young, I told myself firmly.

I moved to the weights, and she followed like we were old friends. I started doing curls, eyes glued to her as she grabbed some smaller weights and started doing dead lifts with a hammer curl.

The sight of that nearly had me slack-jawed. The move consisted of her bending down at the waist, her legs straight, and touching the ground, then lifting back, her ponytail bouncing, back arched, her incredible ass sticking out, and bringing her arms into a curl.