Free Run to Love (Triple R Book 1) by Jules Dixon

shower this morning.
    “Ready.” She smiled.
    I started Presley on weight machines to warm up, then moved to isometric muscle training with a special emphasis on developing a slightly different body form, filling in muscle. We moved to a medicine ball and ended with cardio. Soaked in sweat was a good look for her. The heat of her body intensified the scents and the salt-heightened, deep floral aroma caused my mouth to water and my heart to pound.
    Presley started on the treadmill. I stood off to the side by the machine’s controls and adjusted the speed. She moved at less of a clip than on Monday, but it was more than a jog in my trainer’s book. Ten minutes into the jog-run, she broke the silence.
    “How long have you lived in Omaha … Jude?” She panted a little and shortened her stride.
    “About a month and a half. I moved from Des Moines and live with my younger brother.”
    “What’s … his name?”
    “Zane. Why?”
    “Well … with an awesome name like Jude … I figured his had to be something cool, too. Wasn’t … wrong.”
    I smiled at her reasoning. “So, you have other plans for the weekend?”
    “Probably … recovery … from girls’ night out.”
    Her breathing was starting to get a little choppy and her face paled slightly. I backed her speed down and substituted a small incline.
    She continued, “Maybe a bike ride. Supposed to be nice this … weekend. And then cats … and dogs, like every … Sunday.” The last sentence was on a quick exhale and she didn’t seem to be improving.
    “Sounds like a good weekend. Do you ever work on the weekends?”
    Her amazing chest was at eye-level, and I became engrossed in watching the rise and fall of her perfect globes.
    Mesmerizing.
    “Only … once … a … mon...”
    Her one-word-at-a-time response and inability to finish the last word returned my attention. The tempo had compromised her breathing and her lips tinged with blue.
    “Shit! Presley!” I slammed my hand on the stop button and caught her as the machine halted and her knees buckled. Cradling her in my arms, I carried her to a padded bench to lay her down, then knelt beside her head. Her eyes remained closed as her breathing wheezed in and whistled out. I checked her heart rate. Her carotid artery pulsed like a rock anthem beneath my fingers.
    “Presley? Hey. Come back to me,” I whispered close to her ear and cupped the top of her head. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm as if it were tied to hers.
    A shallow rasp of air exhaled from her mouth. “I’m still here, Jude.”
    I skimmed her forehead with my thumb, gently. “God, you scared me. Are you okay?”
    “My head is spinning, but I’m okay.” Her body flushed bright red from oxygen reentering her bloodstream. “I didn’t faint, just lost my wind.” She gulped in a breath. “Can you get my water bottle, please?”
    Her breathing settled slowly, and she fought to regain her composure. I bent over her and cupped her jaw. My thumb skimmed over her fleshy, supple, baby-pink lips, and her eyes flashed opened. I held her gaze. “I’m not leaving you.”
    I stood while keeping an eye on Presley. “Emerson. Emerson!”
    Emerson ambled at a turtle’s pace over to the bench. “I’ve seen her do this before, Jude. It’s nothing new. She’ll be fine.”
    “Please get Miss Bradenhurst a bottle of water from the staff lounge.”
    “Get it yourself, Saylor.” She flipped her hair before turning her back.
    “Emerson, get the bottle of water.” I gritted through my teeth. “Now!”
    Emerson turned back around and her jaw tightened. “Fine!” She threw a final remark over her shoulder, “Miss Overdramatic needs to find some endurance.”
    Presley squirmed with discomfort, then shook her head, her eyes clamped shut.
    I squatted back down to be eye-to-eye. “Don’t give what Emerson says a second thought, she’s nothing.”
    A line formed between Presley’s eyes. “Right … nothing. That’s why