The following weeks became a blur of sweat, laughter, and breathless encounters. Our "training sessions" were rarely about the weights anymore. The gym became our sanctuary, a place where the rules of the outside world didn't apply.
We developed a routine. Zach would start the session with a strict, demanding workout that left me shaking and desperate. He loved the control, the way he could push me to my limit before rewarding me with his touch. Bryan was the catalyst, the one who would sneak up behind me during a set of squats or whisper something filthy in my ear while I was on the treadmill.
"Focus, Kayda," Zach would say, his voice stern, though his eyes were dancing. "Ten more reps. If you finish them perfectly, I might let Bryan do that thing you like."
"Which thing?" I'd gasp, my
