“I don’t need a spotter.” He arcs his back a few inches off the bench, lifting his shirt to mop sweat from his face. His sly grin widens, teasing a blush out of me when he catches me staring at the taut lines of muscle underneath. We’ve been living together, sleeping together in the same bed, for more than a year, but the sight of him still knocks me breathless sometimes. He reaches up and tugs the end of my pink ponytail until my face hovers upside down above his. Perspiration shimmers in his dark hair and shines on his upper lip, leaving a deliciously salty taste on mine as he steals a sweaty kiss from me. Under the bright overhead lights, his eyes sparkle with mischief.

Whatever irritation I felt moments ago melts away as he swings out from under the bar and tugs me gently onto his lap. The calluses on his palms catch on the loose fabric of my skirt as he slides his hands up my hips, leaving snowy white trails of chalk on the dark cotton before settling on the small of my back.

“If you’re not careful, you’re going to hurt yourself,” I say, the words tinged with worry. “Your physical therapist—”

“My physical therapist gave me the green light,” he reminds me. It’s been nearly eighteen months since Gaia brought him back from the brink of his last death with three arrow-shaped scars in his back and a hole in his heart where his magic used to be. A hole he insisted would fill with time. But some days, I’m not so sure.

My brows knit and he draws me closer.

“The doctor said you could ease your way back into a light training routine.” I wipe a bead of sweat from his cheek. “Three hours a day in here isn’t ‘light training,’ Jack. And benching two twenty—”

“Isn’t going to kill me.” He turns my hand over and presses a kiss against my palm. Goose bumps ripple over me as his lips travel to the crook of my arm. “My body’s in excellent shape,” he whispers, his dark dusting of morning stubble igniting a trail of shivers over my collarbone. “But if you want to test my endurance, I’m completely on board with that.”

Laughing, I push him back by the chest with questionable effort. “I’ve got Spanish lessons in less than an hour.” And if he keeps kissing me like this, I swear to Gaia, I’ll never make it to class.

He draws me back against him by the front of my shirt. “I’ll give you a very good reason to ditch.”

I swat his hands away as I stand and wipe the chalk from my skirt. “You can show off your physical prowess when I get home.”