Chapter One
Livia
He’s here again. The huge, muscled cutie with the pumped-up shoulders and even bigger smile. He’s wearing a black tank top with the word TREY emblazoned on the front in bold white letters. His vivid green eyes glow with health and intoxicating sex-appeal as he hands out flyers to passers-by and answers their questions with a flirty smile. Every time I pass this spot, there are a dozen women staring at him, talking to him, or fawning over him.
At any other time, I might be fawning as well, but Trey McHandsome is standing out in front of Dom Fitness, the gym that’s recently opened up on my street. The premises are sleek and sophisticated, and healthy, happy people bounce in and out in brightly colored Lycra. The front window is emblazoned with one of their slogans: Just Say Yes (Sir).
My stomach twists with panic. Sir. That’s what Piers made me call him while he was telling me I’d never amount to anything. I can still hear his voice snarling in my ears.
You can’t even lose two pounds. You’re hopeless with no self-control. It’s disgusting. Say, I’m disgusting, sir.
I breathe in sharply, and glare at Dom Fitness, as if it being there is all Piers’ doing. I have to pass this way every day on my way to and from work. I never liked gyms, and one run by BDSM dominants sounds like a nightmare.
I’ll just have to ignore it, and I focus straight ahead walk faster. My stiletto heels click on the sidewalk, and I like the way they sound and make me feel. Bigger girls can enjoy wearing high heels, too. I’ve given myself permission to feel good about myself.
Muscly McHandsomeface steps right into my path and turns his one-hundred-watt smile right on me. He’s about thirty, just two or three years older than me. The expanse of his chest is just the right height for me to rest my cheek against. I bet he smells like really good aftershave and a deep, dark masculine scent that’s all his.
Goddammit, Livia. Stop imagining what he smells like. He’s a trap. A big, gorgeous trap.
“Hey,” says the six-foot-three Adonis with the thick, brown hair. “Have you got a moment to talk about your fitness goals?”
I stare right at his chest rather than risk looking at his gorgeous face. His broad, snuggle-me chest.
Goddammit.
The flyer he’s holding out to me reads Dom Fitness: Because we said so. It’s just the sort of overbearing nonsense I’d expect from a dom.
I glare up at Trey. “Not in a million years.”
His gorgeous smile drops from his face. “Sure. No problem.” He steps aside to let me pass.
I hesitate. I didn’t mean to be rude, but I’m used to doms who don’t listen. Doms who don’t talk no for an answer.
My hesitation is a mistake, because Trey smiles gently and says, “If you’re uncertain about what we do here, maybe I could answer any questions you have. I know we’re kind of kooky and kinky sounding, but we’re not.” He grins. “Okay, we are kinky, but it’s non-contact kink. We offer your first session for free if you’d like to try us out.”
“Why? Because I need to exercise so badly?” Go on. I dare you to call me fat. I’m four sizes bigger than my ‘normal’ weight sister, but I happen to think that I look good. I’ve shed blood, sweat and tears to claw my way back to a happy mindset. I’m not letting anyone screw with it, no matter how angular his jaw is.
Trey just watches me with those luminous green eyes. “My job is to make you feel good on the inside so that it shows on the outside.”
His easy smile is back, and despite my fuming anger, I feel my belly flip-flop. No wonder they stick Trey out here. The handsome face of abuse, exploitation and emotional manipulation.
“Dom Fitness is for everyone,” he continues. “If you’re interested, come talk to me, or ask for me on reception. My name’s Trey.”
“Yeah, I know,” I mutter, looking at his name emblazoned on his chest.
He drops his gaze to the tank top, and then up at me again, smiling disarmingly. “Oh, yeah. I forget I’m wearing this sometimes. Have a good weekend, okay?”
I move to my left just as he moves to his right. We both step back the other way at the same time, and I wonder if he’s blocking me on purpose or if I’m being paranoid. Finally, Trey holds up his hands in mock surrender and I move around him and walk as fast as I can to my front door.
I take off my denim jacket and throw my purse onto the table as soon as I get into my apartment. Maybe it’s pokey and there’s a lot of street noise from people outside, but it’s all mine. There are potted plants everywhere, my favorite books on the shelves and fresh white paint on the walls.