Page 124 of Quiet Obsession
Dr. Quinn’s voice moves through my head. I don’t know what to do with half of what he said, but I understand those words. My eyes move past the benches and cable machines, a new idea forming.
There’s a squat rack in the corner.
I’ve never lifted weights and I’ve no idea where to start, but I move closer, brushing my fingers along the cold bar.
I can either let the weight of my past crush me, or I can learn to carry it without breaking.
Eyeing the different plates, I reach for them and load five kilograms on each side. That’s ten total... probably too light. I add more, change my mind, go back to ten, and fold my hands over my chest, taking a step back, eyebrows drawn.
The bar must weigh a few kilograms, so maybe that plus ten is enough to start with. I step forward again and gasp as a tattooed hand wraps around my waist from behind.
My pulse jumps, then settles when Creed pulls me back into his warm body and slides my headphones down.
He loves grabbing me in the middle, pulling me in, lifting me up, maneuvering me like a rag doll and... I love it too. I love his strength, his size, the stark difference between us. He pulls me in and I damn near disappear in the bulk of him.
Safe from the world.
“Morning, baby,” he says, his mouth ghosting the shell of my ear. “Trying something new?”
“Trying...” I echo, feeling his mouth curve into a smile. “And failing, I think. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He either finds this funny or he’s pleased I’m talking.
Every day, he’s tense and guarded before I open my mouth, like he expects me to shut him out. Now that he told me about his father’s abuse, I’d never punish him with silence no matter how much words cost me sometimes.
I spin, looking into his dark eyes the same way I did yesterday afternoon when I pulled him into an empty lecture hall. His lips came down on mine immediately, that big body pressing me into the wall. Five minutes later, I left on jelly-like legs after he made me come on his fingers.
The day before that, I followed him into his room after our morning workout. We took a shower together and he buried his cock deep inside me while hot water trailed down our soapy bodies. I love morning shower-fucks, even if it means we’re usually late to class and I smell like his shower gel, then rush away every time I spot my brother.
“What are you waiting for, Millie?” Creed asks, tipping my chin up. “Kiss me.”
He doesn’t wait for my move, his mouth covering mine. He tastes like mint and coffee, and I melt into him, my fingers ghosting his face. A fire starts burning low in my tummy, desire taking over. I step back before we risk getting caught half-naked in the equipment closet again.
A group of guys has started showing up in the mornings, with no rhyme or rhythm to their schedule, so we can’t be certain we'll be alone.
“Is it okay?” I ask, pointing at the weights I’ve prepared.
“It’s light. You can lift more.” He moves, unhooking plates and sliding them on. “Have you done this before?”
“No.”
“Okay.” He tilts his head toward the bar. “Get under it.”
A smile plays across my lips. There’s nothing I love more than his barked orders. Ducking, I get in position, the cold bar settling across my upper back.
“Feet shoulder-width,” he instructs, taking a stance behind me. “Wider, baby.”
A shudder shakes me from head to toe, my mind diving into the gutter. He said that yesterday when he sat me on some professor’s desk and pushed his hand inside my leggings.
Spread your legs, Millie. Wider, baby.
Biting my tongue, I shuffle my feet as instructed.
“Now brace,” he says, moving to the side.
I inhale and lift my shoulders, the weight settling fully onto me. It’s not too heavy, but heavy enough I feel it in my knees.
“Good. Go.”
