Page 13 of Master Daddy

For the next hour, I lose myself in it. I map out a four-week program, exactly the length of my leave.

Bench press progressions with built-in spotter safety cues.

Accessory work for his glutes and posterior chain because I noticed how he’s been building that incredible ass.

Mobility drills at the end of every session so he doesn’t get tight.

Nutrition notes too: protein targets, easy meal ideas he can prep around his two jobs.

I even sketch out a simple tracking sheet he can use in the new notebook.

Every few minutes my mind slips back to Luke. The way he’ll look doing hip thrusts under my watch, sweat glistening on his skin, me standing close enough to correct his form with my hands on his hips. Telling him to push harder. Praising him when he does it right.

Good boy. That’s my little one. Again, one more for Daddy…

By the time I lean back in the chair, the fire has burned lower and the jazz has given way to a soft Billie Holiday number.

The training program looks solid. It’s challenging but smart, progressive without being reckless. I print out the first week’s details and slip them into a folder.

Tomorrow morning I’ll hand it to Luke at the gym. I’ll watch him reaction, see if that spark flares even hotter when he realizes I put real thought into this for him.

I stand and walk over to the big picture window that overlooks the lake.

The moon is out now, silver light rippling on the dark water.

Four weeks. It’s not forever, but it’s something.

If putting together this program brings us closer—if it gives him a reason to keep seeking me out, to let me take care of him even a little bit—then that’s just all the better.

I’m not promising Luke the world.

Not yet.

But I’m sure as hell not walking away from whatever this pull is between us. Not while I’m here.

I bank the fire, rinse my dishes, and head upstairs to the big king bed I built myself. As I strip down and slide under the cool sheets, my mind fills with images of Luke curled up against me, his head on my chest, my hand stroking his hair while I tell him exactly what we’re going to do in the gym tomorrow.

Tomorrow just can’t come soon enough…

Chapter 5

Luke

I practically bounce into the gym parking lot ten minutes early, my gym bag swinging from one shoulder and a determined little smirk already plastered on my face.

This is going to be good.

I’m going to beat Mason here, warm up like a pro, and hit him with maximum sass the second he walks through the door. Something like, “Look who finally decided to show up, Mr. Reliable.”

Yeah. That’ll teach him for missing yesterday!

I push through the glass doors, the familiar scent of rubber mats and metal hitting me. I scan the floor. Then my triumphant grin freezes…

He’s already here.

Mason is over by the stretching area, moving through a series of warm-up stretches that should not look that smooth on a man his size.

He’s wearing short black compression shorts that hug powerful thighs and a military-green muscle-fit top that clings to every ridge of his chest and shoulders. The fabric stretches across his broad back as he folds forward into a hamstring stretch, then flows effortlessly into a deep lunge. His muscles flex and release with controlled power.