Free The Proposition (The Plus One Chronicles) by Jennifer Lyon Page A

with large muscles in his arms, shoulders and upper back bunching and releasing beneath tanned skin. Flowing dark lines of a tattoo wrapped around his right biceps. His waist narrowed into the band of his black shorts. He had his long legs bent, and clamped between his ankles was a heavy-looking weight.
    He pumped out between five and ten flawless pull-ups.
    She couldn’t tear her gaze away, didn’t want to. His muscles and tendons rippled with tightly controlled power. Clutching the box, she wished it was him—all warm skin over steely muscle—she held instead of flat cardboard.
    Hell, she wanted him over her, his body branding hers as he thrust into her. Breathless, she flushed hot while tingles of fear skittered up her spine.
    The sensation of being watched filtered into her. It came from the mirror in front of Sloane. His laser-sharp gaze tracked her in the glass. Slowly, he lowered himself until he hung straight, released his ankles and let go of the weight he’d had clamped there.
    Hitting the ground, he prowled toward her.
    She knew there were others in the gym, but Sloane consumed her. His hard face, the thick column of his throat down to his shoulder.
    Oh Lord, his shoulders and arms, pure brawn that begged to be explored. Touched, stroked and squeezed. The sheen of sweat covering his chest made her think of long licks…
    Get a grip! She didn’t do instant lust like this. Hadn’t ever thought of licking a sweaty man.
    Sloane grabbed a shirt off a treadmill and pulled it over his head before stopping in front of her. He glanced over at Charity, and said, “I’ve got her, thanks.”
    Kat had forgotten the girl. Sloane did that to her, made her forget everything but him.
    “What’s in the box?” Sloane glanced to her hands.
    Box? Oh! “Cupcakes. For you.” A flush heated her skin, but she forced herself to ignore it. “Kind of a thank you for doing this today.”
    “You brought me cupcakes?”
    It had been a dumb idea, bringing cupcakes to a gym. To a guy who looked like Sloane—he obviously didn’t eat a lot of sweets. “You can throw them away.”
    “Hey, Michaels, I’ll take the cupcakes,” one of the men shouted.
    Sloane’s eyes took on a tinge of smoldering sienna color. He snapped his head around toward the man. “Touch them and die, Carson. She brought them for me.” He took the box from her and shoved them under his right arm. A grin broke out over his face. “Right, Kat? Just for me.”
    It struck her that he was shocked. But why? Women wanted him, flocked around him. She’d seen the reaction he caused at the wedding reception. She imagined they did all kinds of stuff for him. The cupcakes weren’t a big deal.
    “Just for you,” she said softly. Unnerved by his intensity, she cut her gaze away, right to a group of guys watching them with blatant interest.
    “Don’t worry about them.” Sloane settled his hand on her back.
    His palm was warm and large, making her feel small, delicate.
    “We’re going to a private room. No one will bother us.” He led her down a hallway, stopped at a door and pressed some buttons on a keypad to open it.
    Kat moved into the big room with mats covering the floor. The far wall had floor-to-ceiling cupboards that she assumed held equipment. The remaining walls were covered in mirrors, and in one of those, she watched Sloane walk into the room behind her. Immediately the large area felt smaller, hotter.
    He closed the door, sealing them inside.

Chapter Seven

    Part of her wanted to bolt now. Run. Escape. Go back to her bakery where she belonged. Kat set her gym bag down and steeled her spine.
    No running. No panicking. She could do this.
    Sloane. He filled the room with his powerful presence as he carefully placed his box of cupcakes in a sheltered spot. Once he was satisfied with that, he crossed the mat.
    This was his domain, his world. He was as at ease here as he’d been striding into the wedding reception and taking down the carjacker with a