After a while, we wind up across from each other on machines; me on the seated press and Josiah on the seated overhead press. At some point, Josiah lost his shirt. It’s on the floor beside his machine next to his water bottle.
The miles of glistening muscles, tan, inked skin, and all the deep, defined divots are really fucking with me. It’s taking everything I’ve got to remain focused and keep my machine moving. I’m barely fucking keeping it together as it is when he readjusts himself in the machine, propping him just a little farther back, and suddenly, so much more of him is exposed to me.
Holy fucking shit.
Why thefuckis Josiah not wearing anything under his basketball shorts?
My eyes snap up to his face, like he’s about to catch me staring, but he’s not even paying attention to me. His gaze is directed up toward the ceiling while his dick and balls, unbeknownst to him, are hanging in clear view.
Holy fuck.
Don’t look, Segan.
Don’t you fucking look.
That’s a total invasion of privacy, and it’s inappropriate.
Don’t. Look.
But like a train wreck, my eyes can’t help but dip down, peeking through the wide-open hole of his shorts. They’re just… there. For anyone to see.
Formeto see.
With every lift up on the weights, his nuts draw upward. I can’t fucking look away—I should, but I can’t.
A warmth spreads through my body that has nothing to do with the exertion from the machine I’m half-ass using. It pools in my groin, my cock thickening the longer I watch. My heart pounds behind my ribs, my breaths quickening. Watching a man lift weights is always attractive, but this… this is on another level.
Letting my weights fall into place, I stand up, grabbing my water as I walk away. I gotta get the fuck away from him, or my erection will soon be unable to hide. I shouldn’t be hard in the fucking gym. This is nuts.
Who the fuck doesn’t wear underwear to the gym? Did he do it on purpose?
Fuck me, this was such a mistake.
23
JOSIAH
Segan is acting weird.
We were working out just fine, co-existing in this gym together before he gets up suddenly and storms to the other side of the room.
What gives?
Once I’m done with the set I’m working on, I grab my things, raising off the bench. I wipe the sweat off my face with the t-shirt I was wearing before guzzling almost all the contents of the water bottle in one go. Glancing across the room to where Segan is, he’s pacing the area in front of the treadmill.
Here we go.
“You okay?” I ask as I close the distance between us.
His head snaps up, gaze connecting with mine, thick brows pinched tightly. “Fine,” is all he grits out before untwisting the cap on his water bottle and chugging it.
What the fuck is his problem?
Maybe I was stupid for coming here. There’s so much we can say, clear the air, start over, if he’d just fucking talk to me, but that’s clearly not going to happen.
Not wanting to get into some dumb argument over the status of my underwear, I breathe out a sigh and say, “Well, thanks for inviting me to come work out with you. We should do it ag—”
“Let me ask you something,” Segan blurts out, cutting me off.
