long. He was craving something more substantial.
“Are you drinking straight vodka?” he asked.
She smirked. “Water.”
“Thought for sure you’d be passed out on the couch by now.”
“Maybe soon. I had another hot chocolate.”
“What did you put in it this time?”
“Kahlua, but Bailey’s is still my favorite.”
He laughed. “Are you trying to replace dinner with hot chocolate?”
“I may have found a few things I could throw together if you’re hungry.”
“Maybe later.” Yes, he was starved, but not for food. And he loved the way her heavy-lidded gaze scoured his body. But remembering her earlier prickliness, he doubted he’d be getting any of Julia tonight. Which meant he definitely needed to pump more iron.
He swung around and lay back on the bench, positioning himself under the bar. “Want to spot me?”
“You trust me to save you from three hundred pounds?” she asked, wandering toward him and setting her bottle on a neighboring bench. “You do love risky behavior, don’t you?”
“Life itself is inherently risky.” He tried to keep his mind from sliding sideways and right into sex, where he’d pushed it aside, but with Julia standing at the head of the bench, her hands poised to help with the bar if needed, he was now looking up the length of that amazing body. Hell if his mind wanted to be anywhere but mired in thoughts of learning every spot that made her moan.
He pushed the bar from the rack and gave thanks for the extra fifty pounds. It forced his body into the bench, his muscles into action, and his mind into neutral. He pounded out the reps and racked the bar. Then rolled off the bench, planted his hands on the mat-covered floor, and kicked up to a handstand.
“Well done,” Julia said, grinning. “How about a few push-ups?”
“No.” He forced the word out with the little energy he had left.
“What about walking a few steps?”
If he weren’t using every ounce of strength just to stay in position, he would have had the brainpower to come up with some snarky comment about being on his hands, not his feet. Instead, he counted off the seconds, “Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven—”
With a silly little smile on her face, she reached out with one finger and poked him in the ribs.
His balance wavered, and he adjusted his hands.
“Hold on, hold on,” she encouraged, “twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty…” She pushed him again, making Noah use his whole body to stay up on his hands. “Tighten that core, Hunt.”
“Knock it off,” he growled, lowering to his feet before she pushed him over, then returned to the bench for more presses. “Shit stirrer.”
“Not me.” Julia followed, her hands hovering over the bar again. “If you can hold a handstand for thirty seconds, you can do a few push-ups or walk a few steps.”
“Seventeen,” he counted, “eighteen, nineteen, twenty.” Noah racked the weight and rolled back to the floor. While resting on all fours, he glanced up at her. “If you touch me again, I’m taking you down. Consider yourself warned.”
She was looking a little too smug when he kicked his feet into the air. Then she tipped into a smooth, practiced handstand beside him.
She shot him a grin and challenged, “Beat you to the wall.”
Her hands moved freely across the mat, her laugh echoing through the gym.
“You little…” He trailed off, putting all his effort into moving forward without losing his balance. But she was a good six “steps” ahead.
“Come on, Superstar,” she said, her breath heaving. “Catch me.”
He pushed his hands into a bigger reach and caught up with her. But as soon as he got close, she leaned into one hand and used the other to shove at his shoulder.