PERSONAL TRAINER
CHAPTER 1
BROOKE
I open the door in my tightest black Lululemon set, ponytail high, smile sweet.
“Hi, Alex. Thanks for coming to the house. The club’s just… too crowded.”
Alex steps inside, all six-three of tanned muscle and quiet authority, duffel slung over one shoulder. His eyes flick down my body once (professional, but not really).
“No problem, Brooke. Private sessions are better anyway. More… focused.”
We set up in the home gym: mirrored wall, rubber floor, yoga mats, light dumbbells.
He’s almost professional for the first forty minutes.
“Squeeze the glutes at the top of the lunge.”
“Chest up on push-ups. Good girl.”
“Core tight, hips back… perfect.”
But I feel his gaze burning every time I bend over.
Cool-down stretch.
He kneels in front of me, guiding
