Dance With Me (With Me in Seattle 12)

He’s so damn strong.

“It’s easier to come here to work out before or after work.” He’s sweating as he sets the bar back on the rack. “While I rest, you can do leg presses. Come here.”

He leads me to a machine and gets me ready to go, then watches me carefully as I complete three sets of ten presses, upping the weight with each set.

My legs are strong, but I feel the strain.

While I rest, he goes back to squats. And so the next hour goes, alternating between sets, with him taking a turn, and then watching me closely as I take mine.

He’s actually super sexy when his hand finds my ass as he leads me from each piece of machinery.

“I don’t usually lift weights,” I admit as I stretch out my legs. “I do a ton of cardio and yoga, but I don’t always have the equipment or time to do weights.”

“You should,” he says as he sets his dumbbells down and smiles at me. “It’ll help your cardio, as well.”

“Your arms are so damn hot when they’re full of blood.”

I bite my lip, looking Levi up and down, and then run to him, hopping up into his arms and wrapping my legs around his hips. He catches me easily.

“Stay where you are.” He reaches for his phone, turns on the camera, and points it to the mirror, taking a picture of us. I don’t smile for the camera. Instead, I kiss his cheek as he looks at the lens.

“I want a copy.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course.”

“Then you’d better do another set of leg presses.”

“You’re a hard-ass.”

He laughs and walks to the machine. “You’re the one who wanted to come with me today, sweetheart. Let’s do this.”For the love of all that’s holy, I’m so sore.

It’s been twenty-four hours since we left the gym, and every muscle in my legs and ass is screaming in pain. I can barely walk. I had to climb the stairs to my bedroom about an hour ago, and I thought I was going to die.

But now, I’m standing in the downstairs bathroom, staring at the toilet. I can’t do this. There is no way in hell I can sit down. My legs are like a baby’s. Weak. Pathetic.

“This is going to suck,” I groan.

“Are you okay in there?” Levi starts to open the door, but I lean over and slam it shut.

“I’m fine.”

“I heard you moan. Are you sick?”

I roll my eyes and blow a strand of hair out of my eyes. “No, I’m not sick. I’m sore. And I don’t know how I’m going to sit down to use the bathroom.”

He chuckles, and I begin to plan his demise.

He’s a sadist. That’s the only explanation for working me so hard that I can barely move.

“So glad you find this funny!”

“Let me in, and I’ll help you sit down.”

“Not a chance in hell. We have not been seeing each other long enough for you to join me in the bathroom. I can do it. Go away.”

“I can stay out here in case you need me.”

“Go away,” I repeat, and then listen for his footsteps leading away from the door. I turn back to the toilet and sigh. “This is going to suck. But I have to pee so bad.”

So I lift my sundress, pull my panties down, and hold onto the vanity as I lower myself down.

About halfway, I have to just fall. Let all the muscles go and fall. Because it’s agony otherwise.

I do my business, and when I’m done, standing up isn’t nearly as bad as lowering down. Thank God.

Once I’ve washed up, I open the door and shriek at Levi.

“I told you to leave!”

“I had to stay in case you fell.” He hooks a piece of hair behind my ear. “You’re so cute when you’re sore.”

“Eff that.” I push past him to the kitchen. “My ass hurts, Levi. Muscles I didn’t know I had are sore.”

“Okay, let’s do this.” He lifts me easily and carries me up the stairs, through the bedroom to the bathroom.

“I don’t have to use the bathroom anymore.”

Without a word, he fills the tub with hot water, and after he digs around under the sink, he finds some Epsom salts and pours a generous amount into the water.

He turns to help me take off my clothes, but I shake my head.

“I can do this.”

When I’m naked, and the tub is full, Levi helps me down into the water, and I let out a long, grateful sigh.

“Oh, this feels nice.”

“Soak for about twenty minutes,” he says. “Do you want some tea?”

“Yes, please.”

He nods and hurries out of the room, and I sit back and let the water and salts do their job. I feel better already.

My live shows are incredibly physical. I fly on wires and do aerial work. I dance my ass off. But none of that has ever made me feel this sore.