He thought about the way it felt to lift an impossible amount of weight, do an impossible number of reps. “The challenge. The harder the workout is, the more I like it.”
She grinned at him. “I feel that way about lots of things.” She let that comment hang in the air between them, and Issam had to resist the urge to readjust. “But I definitely feel that way about this workout.”
Would it be so bad, Issam thought, if they mixed a little business with pleasure?
After a couple of minutes, Mackenzie turned up the speed on her treadmill. Issam followed suit. It wasn’t long before they were both running full speed. Mackenzie’s breaths came short and sharp, and he loved the sound of it. He wanted to be the cause of those short little breaths, but for that they needed a bedroom, not a gym.
Before he could get lost in the fantasy, Mackenzie hit the STOP button on the treadmill and jumped off. “I’m ready,” she told him, jogging back toward the center of the gym as if it had taken no effort to run that fast at all. “Do you have the workout pulled up somewhere?”
Issam pointed to a TV screen on one of the side walls. There, in large letters, the workout of the day was laid out.
“Nice.” Mackenzie approved. Issam had never been so proud of a television in his life before that moment.
They launched into the workout. Thirty walking lunges with weights. Thirty kettlebell swings. Thirty pushups. Thirty weighted squats. Thirty bench presses. More weight. Another round.
Mackenzie was beating him.
Sweat glistened on her forehead, and her face was a mask of concentration. She approached every rep like it was the most important thing in the world and moved through them quickly, with precision.
What would she be like in bed?
Issam missed a rep imagining it, and Mackenzie caught him. “Keep your head in the game, Issam,” she said, taunting him. “Otherwise—”
He stepped closer in. “Otherwise what?”
Mackenzie’s face was already red, but her cheeks got pinker. “Otherwise you’ll pay for it—”
“I doubt that,” he said, then moved through another series of exercises. “You’ll be the one paying.”
“Oh, is that what you think?”
They moved on to the last set of weights, and Mackenzie dropped hers to the ground seconds before Issam. “I win.” She crossed her arms and jutted a hip out.
“I was lifting heavier weights.”
“Fine.” Mackenzie’s eyes sparkled. “You choose the final round, then.”
“A race,” he said instantly. Issam could run fast. He’d proven that time and again. “Around the building. The first one back to the door wins.”
“Ready, set, go.” Mackenzie bolted for the door.
His heart was still pounding from the workout, but he put on a burst of speed, hitching his hand on the doorframe and spinning after her. Issam was fast—but Mackenzie was faster, lighter on her feet, and hungry for victory.
She took every turn with the same precision as with her weightlifting, and her tight body moved more easily in the space. He’d never been so torn. He was half proud of her and half irritated that she was beating him.
Mackenzie wheeled around the last turn, her breath harsh in the air, and sprinted for the door.
Issam gave it everything he had, his legs burning, his lungs about to burst. He nearly had her—he was almost there—
Mackenzie slapped the door with a triumphant yell. “First!” she cried, then spun back toward Issam. “See? My standards are so high that you’re the one who’ll be struggling to meet them!”
She was absolutely irresistible.
He went for her.
Their lips crashed together, and Mackenzie gasped as Issam backed her up against the wall. “You think you’ve won?” he growled into her ear. “You think you’re the one who’s come out on top?”
She was breathless. “Yes.”