She pauses at the door for a moment before turning toward me.
“What are we doing first?”
“Well, you already worked your lower body.”
“Were you watching me?”
“I was ensuring you were using the correct form. I would hate to see you injured.”
“I can handle myself.”
“I’m sure you can.” There isn’t a doubt in my mind. Still, I would prefer to be the one to handle her. Finger her. Suck her. Fuck that sweet pussy into oblivion.
The air is thick with tension, filled with desire. Every moment with her makes me want her more.
Why wasn’t once enough? She’s my employee. I’m her boss. As sexy as that scenario sounds, I have Amelia to consider. She instantly bonded with Ember. I won’t risk doing anything that would put a strain on that or damage the working relationship we have. Amelia needs Ember.
So do I, even if it’s only from a safe distance. Since she’s been around, things have been easier, happier. I feel more relaxed, Amelia is having the time of her life, and Ember has a home. Everything is working out for all of us.
Everyone except my poor, aching balls.
I nod my head toward the bench. “Let’s work on your chest.”
Ember bursts out laughing.
Realization hits. Mix that with what I want to do to her, and we have a dangerous combo.
“That’s not… I didn’t mean…”
“I know what you meant, but it’s still funny.”
“Guess we’re never really going to put that night fully behind us, are we?”
She shrugs. “Probably not. At least it was a good night.”
“A great night.”
Ember moves over to the bench and lies down. I adjust the weight for her, and she grips the bar.
“Nice and slow,” I instruct. I hover over her as she lowers and raises the bar. “Do you work out a lot?”
“Not really. I just couldn’t sleep.”
“Everything okay?”
She pushes the bar up again, then sets it on the rack and sits up, slightly out of breath.
“Just a bad dream.”
“Dreams can be a bitch.” Every time I returned from a deployment, I spent weeks battling nightmares. Eventually, they subsided, but those few weeks were always rough. So bad, I would sleep in a different room than Norah, not wanting her to see what those dreams did to me. The sweating, the panic—the tears.
“Sounds like you know from personal experience.”
“A little too well.” I pause. “Sometimes it helps to talk about it.”
She sits up on the bench and shakes her head. “I’d rather keep my nightmares to myself, thanks.”
There’s a sadness in her eyes I haven’t seen before. The urge to make it go away is strong, debilitating almost.