Adam swallowed and tossed another piece of the soft golden cake into his mouth, mumbling around it, “Why? Because it’s yours?”

“No, because you’re a trainer,” she stated, completely dumbfounded. “You’re supposed to be all about fitness and health food. You can’t just eat…snack cakes.”

“Really? Hmm. Guess I missed that memo,” he said, licking vanilla cream filling from his lips. “You should try it. It’s really good.” He held a piece up to her lips.

“No, I—”

When she opened her mouth to protest, Adam tucked the small piece of sponge cake between her parted lips. For a moment, she seemed to panic. Her eyes bulged, and her mouth opened wider. As if she didn’t know what to do with the bite of cake and considered spitting it out. But the sugary filling must’ve melted on her tongue because she finally closed her lips around it, and her eyes drifted shut on a small, satisfying moan. One that sent electricity shooting straight down his spine and directly into his groin.

But he didn’t have time to contemplate his visceral reaction to her because there was a more pressing issue. “Preslee, open your eyes before you drive us into the ditch.”

Her eyes shot open, and her hands tightened on the wheel, keeping the car in its lane. “Oh. Sorry.”

Well, he wasn’t. He liked watching her lose herself completely when it came to something pleasurable. The thought alone had him shifting in his seat, wondering when his shorts had become so tight. He subtly reached down and adjusted himself, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

Preslee glared him. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Uh-oh, had she caught him rearranging his—

No, wait. She was referring to the cake. “Why? What’s wrong?”

That only seemed to make her madder. “I’m on a diet, Adam. Or did you forget that?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Of course it does. How am I going to lose weight if you’re feeding me cake? God. You’re the worst personal trainer I’ve ever had.”

He chuckled. “I’m the only trainer you’ve ever had, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but don’t let that comfort you,” she said, pulling into the gym’s parking lot. “I have zero experience whatsoever with other trainers, and I still think you’re the worst. That should tell you something.” She parked the car and turned to him. “If I were paying you, I’d ask for a refund.”

He grinned. “Good thing you aren’t paying me then.”

She squinted at him. “And why is that again? I still can’t figure out why you would offer your services to me for free.”

“I told you. I want to help.”

She snorted. “Oh, right. By feeding me cream-filled cake. Trust me, I don’t need you for that.”