Kiara wasn’t into working out.
She signed up for the gym three weeks ago just after the breakup.
Her ex said she’d never keep a routine, never have discipline, never be the girl who made heads turn.
Well, he was half right.
She still hated cardio. Still loved cupcakes.
But there was one thing that kept her coming back three days a week: Noah.
Her personal trainer.
Six foot something. Bearded. Veins visible on his forearms. Eyes like forest fire. The kind of man who made even water breaks feel indecent.
And when he corrected her form with his hands on her hips or stood behind her during squats, her whole body would hum with arousal.
He never crossed the line.
But she was determined to.
That evening, the gym was quiet. Just a few stragglers and background music on low volume.
Noa
