She glanced over. He’d sweated through the T-shirt in a dark vee that had lust curling in her belly. She used it to push herself a little harder.

His hair had darkened at the temples, and the damp brought out those sexy curls. His arms gleamed; muscles bunched.

He’d taste salty, she thought. He’d be slippery under her hands. That energy, that strength and endurance would be over her, under her, all around her. In her.

Her breath began to quicken from more than the exertion, and she hit mile four.

He looked at her, and she saw in his eyes what was quivering inside her. That drumming, primal need. Her pulse pounded along with the music, her skin hummed along with the machines. Beat slapped into quick beat.

She smiled slowly, spoke breathlessly. “I’m coming up on you.”

“You don’t have enough left to take me.”

“I’ve got plenty left.”

“You’re winded.”

“You, too. I can finish strong. Can you?”

“Watch me.”

Across the room, Mac rolled her eyes, and deciding there were some things even the closest of friends shouldn’t be part of, slipped out of the room.

Neither Laurel nor Del noticed, or gave her a single thought.

He slowed, just a little, and she understood the competition was over, and the sexual dance—hot and primitive—had begun.

They’d finish together.

“Let’s see your kick,” he demanded.

“You want it?”

“Yeah, I want it.”

“Then come get it.” She bore down, hard, driving herself until she was both thrilled and astonished to feel that dark pleasure build inside her. When he once more matched his pace to hers, she heard herself moan.

Closing her eyes she let it come, let it ride through her, all the hot and grinding need, all the aching anticipation.

They hit the finish together.

Breath fast and ragged, she opened her eyes to look at him. Her throat burned with a thirst water wouldn’t quench. She stepped off on unsteady legs.

“I’m going to skip the yoga,” she said.

“You’re damn right.” He hooked his fingers in her sports bra, yanked her against him.

His mouth was a fever on hers, burning reason, spiking delirium. Need and hunger—his ran as deep and desperate as hers, and that alone was a thrill. Heat, another wild surge of it, crashed through her so she wondered how either of them could stand against it.

“We have to hurry. We have to hurry.” She broke away from him, fighting for air. For one humming moment, they just stared at each other. “Catch me!” She sprinted to the door, heard her next gasping breath come out in a half-crazed laugh as she raced toward her room.

He caught her, swung her through the door.

Still laughing, she pivoted, slammed him back against the door to shut it, then devoured his mouth with hers.