Page 9 of Snatched
“Derrière.” I even throw some weird flair of an accent on the word. It’s not Parisian at all, unfortunately.
“Your…what?”
“Derrière,” I repeat, trying desperately to remember the French accent I learned in high school. “It’s French.”
Colt grins, utterly delighted.
“Oh. You want to have a nice butt.”
My heart slams so hard in my chest I’m surprised the fire alarm doesn’t go off.
“Uh. Is that what that is? Yeah.”
My voice cracks.
“Something like that. I want to get…snatched.”
“Snatched,” he grins, walking around to face me directly, “it seems like you’ve kept yourself up really well already.”
Heat floods my face.
“So we’ll just focus on getting you nice and strong.” He gives a tiny shrug, casual, confident. “The aesthetic effects, like a nice butt, will come as a result of of that. But it’s better if we just focus on strength.”
I snort before I can stop myself. “Did that sound dirty?”
As soon as I say it, I want to die.
“God, I’m sorry. You can cancel me as a client if you want.”
He laughs again—chest shaking, shoulders loose, like I’ve genuinely made his day.
“You’re hilarious, Elena. My last client was a sixty-seven year old corporate guy who wants to date women in their twenties. He has a beer belly. Trust me when I say I think I’m going to enjoy training you a whole lot more.”
Oh.
Oh no. Uh oh…
That was way worse than him calling me pretty.
“See you Thursday after work then?” he asks, tapping his tablet. “Two days from now?”
I nod mutely.
He backs up toward the door, walking away with the kind of easy swagger that makes me wonder if his joints are made of molten sunlight.
Before he leaves, he gives me a quick and effortless wink.
“Have a nice date tonight. Hope it goes well. And remember, if he thinks foreplay is an optional side quest, he’s not the one. Easy metric for you.”
“Ha. Right.”
He winks, and the door closes behind him.
And I stand there, rooted in place, wondering how in the hell I’m supposed to go on a date with anyone else afterthat.
Chapter Two
COLT
