Isabella froze, unable to tear her eyes away from the man before her. Every taut muscle, the perfect abs, broad chest, thick, strong thighs—and the way sweat glistened on his tanned skin—made him look like a Greek god. Oh, goddess, help me, she thought, feeling her body betray her, reacting even though he hadn’t touched her.
A sudden pressure on her hand—and then over her mouth—snapped her out of it. She realized she had been openly gaping.
“Goddess, Bella, stop drooling over your husband. He’s yours, after all,” Rose teased, a mischievous smile on her lips. Isabella flushed crimson, embarrassed.
“Why did you bring me here, to the training ground?” Isabella asked, her tone carrying a hint of annoyance. Still, she couldn’t help sneaking glances at her husband, watching him move with ease
