Dirty Princes (Hot Candy 3)

Among many other things, of course. We are so compatible. We were made for each other. I’ve known it all along.

“Just… talk to him about something he likes,” Simone is saying. “Engage him. Maybe tell him about your work.”

“Hm.”

“Tell him about those classes you’re taking.” She opens the locker room door for me. “In literature, right? I have been wondering about that myself. Not happy with your job?”

“I like my job. But Ryan once mentioned he likes literature, so…” I walk inside and drop my duffel bag on a bench. “Did you see him? He’s dressed in black today. I need to go shopping, match my wardrobe.”

“You serious now?” Simone mutters.

Sometimes she sounds just like Candy.

She can say whatever she wants. I’m losing his attention. I can just feel it slipping away. Measures need to be taken. Drastic ones.

Immediate ones.

We go out to the machines, and I grab one that has a direct line of sight to him. It’s an elliptical, and I hate those, they’re just too much work while spying, but it’s in a prime position.

Simone grumbles a little but takes the elliptical beside mine and puts in her earbuds, shutting out the world.

She may.

I’m the one on a mission, not her. Although she should really start looking for a man. I don’t know what she’s waiting for. Husbands don’t grow on trees. Choosing one and then winning him over can take years.

Obviously. Case in point.

Ryan moves from his machine to grab some dumbbells and starts doing squats.

Mmm…

“I’m gonna head over, grab some water,” I tell Simone who doesn’t seem to hear or see me as she sweats and pants on her machine.

I get down, wipe my face and head off. I shiver a little, as déjà vu from the Incident at the water cooler at work hits me.

Ryan pressed to me, his hands on my arms, pinning them to my body, his breath hot on my neck, his spicy scent wrapping around me as he clutches me to his muscular body…

Granted, he was trying not to fall.

It doesn’t matter.

I’m drinking from my plastic cup of water, watching him sideways from under my lashes, and crap, I end up spilling half the water down my boobs.

It feels like an emerging pattern every time he’s around.

Checking the wet stain isn’t showing too much on my pink top, I approach him. Be like a lion in the grass, I chant to myself, stepping lightly and circling him from behind.

Be like a lion on the hunt.

He’s focused on lifting the dumbbells parallel to his sides while squatting, listening to music, and I take a long moment to appreciate the strength in his back and thighs, and well, his ass.

Nice ass.

I didn’t know I liked men’s asses until I saw Ryan’s. Tight. Muscular.

Woo.

I shouldn’t focus on that. On this. This ass. I have higher goals. And he’s much more than a fit body.