“Don’t worry about it.” His gaze met and held mine. Our faces were only inches apart, our bodies pressed length to length. We were both breathing heavily. The urge to wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close and kiss him was so strong that I could feel the itch in my fingers just like when I saw something I wanted to paint.

Nick reached up and brushed back the hank of hair that had fallen over my right eye. His touch was gentle despite the obvious strength of his hands. I shivered. A smile ticked up one corner of his mouth as if he was registering my response and was happy about it.

“Do you always make this much of an impression?” he asked.

My throat was tight. I shrugged, which pushed my front against his sweat-soaked tank top in the most delicious way. It occurred to me that I’d be okay with lying here all day, I wasn’t positive but I might have purred louder than Sir at the thought.

“All right, let’s get you up and make sure you’re not hurt,” he said.

Noooooo. Mercifully, I only yelled this in my head.

He rolled off me and I sat up, knowing that lying on the mat and demanding that he continue to hold me would be off-putting at best and downright creepy at worst. I glanced down at my skirt. Half of it was missing. A panel had been ripped clean off. Why this caused me to blush, I have no idea. It’s not like he didn’t see the whole thing. So what if my underwear was visible? I could hold my skirt closed over the gap. No big deal.

I glanced over at Nick before I rolled to my feet. He had risen to a seated position. He reached out and grabbed the torn fabric of my skirt that was pinned beneath the pile of weights. His voice was raspy when he said, “You could have been killed.”

Gone was the teasing note in his voice. Instead, he sounded truly horrified by what might have happened. I wanted to ease his mind and said, “Thanks to you, I wasn’t.”

Nick tried to push himself up to a standing position, but it was clear that his leg wasn’t cooperating. I could see the sweat bead up on his forehead as he tried to get a knee under him. He looked pale and shaken in the aftermath of the crash. A vein started to throb in his neck.

“Oh no!” I cried. I dropped my skirt and crouched down beside him. “Are you hurt? Should I call someone?”

“No, I’m fine, damn it,” he hissed. “Just back away.”