But it was Naima who held the power, who straddled my hips with an ease that felt both natural and dangerous. She moved over me, her pussy warm and slick, her rhythm unhurried as if she had all the time in the world to break me down. Her hands pressed oil into my skin, every stroke leaving me more exposed, more vulnerable. She rode me with a control that made my breath catch, her name a low rasp on my tongue.
I woke with a start, my dick hard with an ache nothing but a woman, the woman I really wanted, could take care of. So yeah, the truth was, while all three of them had something about them—beauty, confidence, allure—only one seemed just right. Naima.
She was the whisper in the dark, the pulse beneath my skin. And no matter how hard I tried to clear my head, she was the only one I could see when I closed my eyes.
Something about Naima pulled me in. She was the quiet at the center of the storm, and I wasn’t sure if that drew me to her or made me want to run the other way.
Today,I was scheduled to work with Tasha. She had asked for my help setting up the new fitness equipment, and it was the perfect opportunity to dig a little deeper. Find out how they ran things, what their plans were for growth.
When I found Tasha in the fitness studio, she was already hard at work, her dark braids pulled back into a ponytail, her toned arms flexing as she tightened a resistance band around a weight rack. Her smile was bright, the kind that lit up a room and sent a ripple of energy through anyone nearby. She was good at this—at making people feel seen, making them feel like they mattered. I could see why guests gravitated toward her.
"Right on time," she said, flashing me a grin. "I was starting to think you’d gotten lost in the garden." I know she was teasing me about spending time with Naima a few times this week already.
"Nah, just trying to keep up. You three run a tight ship."
"Gotta," she said, moving to hold a metal bar steady while I tightened the bolts. "We’ve had our share of setbacks, but we’re still standing. Can’t say that for a lot of places like this."
"Setbacks?" I asked, keeping my tone casual. "Like what?"
She hesitated, her fingers flexing over the cool metal. "Investors pulling out. Permits being a pain in the ass. It’s a hustle. But we make it work."
"Sounds like you’ve been through a lot."
"We have." Her voice softened, and for a moment, the mask slipped. "But this place... it’s worth it. People come here broken, and they leave a little more whole. That’s not something I’m willing to give up on."
Her expression shifted then, a playful glint in her eye as she leaned a little closer. "But enough about business. What about you, Lennox? You got anyone waiting for you back home?"
"Nah. Too busy working."
She laughed, a throaty sound that might’ve turned my head if I wasn’t so fixed on someone else. "A man like you? Hard to believe."
I felt the tug—the memory of that dream that lingered on the edges of my mind, the way her lips had parted as she fed me grapes, the heat of her breath on my skin. I pushed it away, reminding myself it was nothing more than a fantasy. A passing thought that had no business here, not when my reality was so firmly rooted in Naima.
Tasha’s smile lingered, and I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. She was beautiful—there was no denying that. And maybe under different circumstances, I might’ve entertained the idea. But not now. Not when every quiet moment was filled with Naima’s voice, with the way she moved, the softness in her eyes. Naima was like water, cool and clear, while Tasha burned like fire. I knew which one I needed.
"Well, the equipment’s good to go," I said, stepping back and wiping my hands on a towel. "Anything else you need?"
She shook her head, her lips quirking into a small smile. "Not unless you’ve got a magic wand to make all our problems disappear."
"Sorry," I said, forcing a grin. "Left my wand at home."
We shared a laugh, the tension breaking, and for a moment, it felt easy again. Normal. But as I walked back to my cabin, theweight of what I had to do pressed against my chest. My father wanted answers. Numbers. Proof.
And all I had were feelings.
And a growing need to protect this place—and the woman at the center of it—from whatever storm was coming.
7
LENNOX
The next morning, I was up before dawn, my body clock always set to hustle mode. My first session with the retreat guests wasn’t until ten, but I needed time to vibe with the space now that the equipment was set up. I wasn’t just Alan Gold’s son out here on a mission—I was Lennox, the trainer. The man who could turn a simple squat into a revelation.
I ran through a quick set, the burn of my muscles grounding me, the rhythm of my movements pulling me into that familiar headspace. Fitness wasn’t just a job; it was my truth. The place where everything else faded away, and it was just me and the grind.
By the time the first guests trickled in, I had a light sweat going, my skin warm and my energy ready. The room filled with mostly women, a mix of ages and backgrounds, decked out in athleisure and wearing expressions that landed somewhere between curious and cautious.
“Good morning, ladies,” I greeted, flashing an easy smile. “I’m Lennox, and today’s session is all about finding yourstrength. Whether you’ve been hitting the gym for years or this is your first class, you’re right where you need to be.”
