My hard-on was pushing my shorts out so far I was surprised I hadn't burst through the flimsy material.
"It's all good, boss," he said as he walked past me. "I happen to like the sports presenter, Dan Adams, the way you like the weatherman, so I know what you're going through."
He had no idea what I was going through...because I had no freaking idea myself.
How did I go from admiring Liam Wright from the safe distance of eight TV screens, to having a personal training session with him the very next day?
I swallowed hard. I looked down at my hands and my fingers had started trembling again.
What had I just gotten myself into?
Chapter Four
LIAM
"Alright, three more," Hudson's deep, gentle voice filled my ears. I was flat on my back and the man was towering over me like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
Three more?
This whole lifting weights up and down thing was way harder than it looked.
I let out a small groan and lifted the heavy bar from the middle of my chest, up away from me as steadily as I could. My arms were already starting to shake. How freaking embarrassing. The guy must have thought I was a complete weakling. I was a complete weakling.
Despite having an inexplicably huge ass that would make any Kardashian proud, I had never set foot in a gym in my entire adult life. Until now.
Hudson placed his hands in the middle of the bar as I lowered it. That helped with the shaking. My heart was already racing, I was sweating profusely, and on top of all of that, I was tired as hell.
I had barely gotten a wink of sleep last night. I had been tossing and turning constantly, my thoughts racing about the promotion and what Parker and I could do to make sure that I got it. It had nothing at all to do with the six-foot-six, three-hundred-pound tower of muscle that was currently leaning over me.
No, nothing at all.
His sexy shaved head. His bright, intricate tattoos covering every square inch of both arms. Green eyes that looked like a field in the Swiss Alps. Okay, so maybe even if I did think a little bit about him, ever since I had stepped into the gym this morning, he had been the epitome of pure professionalism.
"One more. Come on, this is the last one. You can do it," he said, and for some reason, hearing his words helped me find an extra reserve of untapped strength to lift that stupid bar up and down one more time.
He grabbed the weight off me once I was done and effortlessly put it back onto the two hookie things it rested on. Like it was no big deal. I guess for a guy his size, lifting a hundred pounds wasn't a big deal. He could probably do it in his sleep. My arms, on the other hand, were already sore—in addition to shaky—and we had only just started.
"Here," Hudson said, handing me my water bottle. "Take a few smaller sips. We’ll do another round in sixty seconds."
His voice was so strong and commanding, it sent a gentle tingle across my skin.
"I thought you said that was the last one," I said in between taking small sips of water as he'd instructed.
"It was the last one," he said, as he broke out into a smile. "Of that set."
What the hell's a set?
I nodded anyway. The man probably already thought I was a weakling, I didn't need him to think that I was a completely clueless weakling at that.
I looked him up and down, as discreetly as I could. Just like last night, he was dressed in all black. It must have been the gym uniform. Black shoes, black socks, black shorts, and a very tight-fitting black polo that had the words Elite Fitness just above the square pocket on the front of the shirt.
I couldn't help but stare at his beautiful tattoos. I normally wasn't into guys with tattoos. Heck, with my crazy schedule, I wasn't into guys at all.
Yep, at twenty-seven, I was still technically a virgin. Unless jacking off with a friend in high school and getting blown by a former roommate counted. But as for sex, as in real sex, yeah, I was a total loser—I mean, virgin.
I huffed into my water bottle and glanced over at Hudson's arms again.
But Hudson's tattoos. Something about them drew me in, and it wasn't just the vivid, bold colors or the intricacy of the work. I felt like there was a story behind them. A story I was keen to hear.
What was the etiquette for talking to a personal trainer in between sets? Was it allowed, frowned upon, or what? I didn't know, and I was getting a whole bunch of mixed signals from the guy.
When I'd walked in last night, he'd seemed kind of nervous and unsure of himself. I figured he was just tired after a long day. But then that Freudian slip. That was the mother of all Freudian slips. Was it a slip, or just a sign of a tired mind?
But then this morning, he was all professional. Sure, friendly and smiley, but no Freudian slips. At least not yet, although a part of me was strangely hoping for one.
Before I could even begin to think about it, his voice boomed down on me. "Alright, let's go again. Ten more. Come on Liam, you can do this."
My name sounded good on his lips.
Somehow, this set went by faster and felt a little easier.
"Good job," Hudson said again, handing me the water bottle.
This time, though, our fingers grazed as he gave it to me, and it sent a warm fluttery sensation into my stomach. I looked up at him briefly and it looked like he had flinched, ever so slightly.
"Another rest and then we'll do one more set," he said, his voice cracking on the last word. He cleared his throat and smiled at me as I sipped on the water.
"So, uh, how did you get into...sorry, I don't know the proper name for it. Weathering?" he asked, scratching behind his neck as a slight blush overtook his cheeks.
"Meteorology," I said, letting out a laugh.
"Yeah, that," he said. The poor man. The smallest thing could set him off into the biggest blush.
I swirled the remaining water in my mouth, thinking about how to answer his question. Although, really, what was there to think about? I would just give him the same sanitized and well-rehearsed version I had said a million times before. But for just the briefest of moments, I considered telling him the real story, and just as quickly, decided against it.
"I was always an outdoorsy child," I began, trying to inject some freshness into the well-worn speech. "I loved playing outdoors, hiking in the mountains, and swimming at the beach. I guess because of that, I was always acutely aware of the weather, even as a young kid."
I looked over at Hudson. In addition to being a gym owner, the guy should have considered a career in acting, because he looked like he was genuinely fascinated by everything I was saying.
So I continued.
"I became intrigued with how it all worked. Clouds, rain, wind...I began studying it in my own time and I just had a real knack for it, you know?" I normally just kept going with the story, but when I looked over at Hudson and saw him nodding his head furiously, I couldn't help but smile.
"My dad used to golf with Walter Devine. Have you heard of him?" I asked.
Hudson flicked his tongue out as he considered it for a minute. "The name does ring a bell, but I can't place it. Sorry."
"That's okay," I said with a giggle. "He was the senior meteorologist on channel nine, and kind of like, my biggest hero. He got me an internship at the station and I absolutely adored everything about it. I studied meteorology when I finished high school, and then got a very lucky break and was able to follow in my hero's footsteps. It was the best thing I ever did."