Personal trainer Gabby likes to be the strong one in the gym and the bedroom. She know what she wants and she wants Michael, a new client whose aura of dark energy and predatory look promises an intense erotic encounter. But Michael has an aggressive streak of his own, and makes it clear that he’ll be the one in charge—especially when he reveals a secret about Gabby that she never expected….

Shift into Pleasure

Cathleen Ross

www.spice-books.co.uk

Contents

Shift Into Pleasure

Copyright

Three nights ago, I astral-traveled for the first time. I left my body and had sex with a cute client, who I train at the gym where I work as a personal trainer. I’d thought at first that I was having an erotic dream but it was real. Hot, sweaty psychic sex. The proof that I’d astral-traveled was the scratches I’d left on Tom’s back, which I saw the next day at work. The trouble is, since I astral-traveled, I’ve had the worst nightmares. Every night I wake, my heart thumping, my gaze scanning the room for the scary thing waiting there, but there’s no one. Nothing. Always nothing, but I know there’s someone. I just can’t see him.

It’s put me off astral-traveling. I mean, what if I’ve brought something weird back with me as a punishment for breaking the laws of the universe? What if my portal to having fun, safe sex with anyone I choose wasn’t as safe as I’d thought? I’ve put my book, The Guide to Astral-Traveling, aside for the moment.

“Gabby, your one o’clock client, Michael, has just arrived,” said Pinky, the gay masseur who works behind our gym’s reception with me. His butterball face was flushed with hope that I’d spill my secret. Pinky’s my best friend and I wouldn’t like anything bad to happen to him.

I glared at him and hissed, “Forget it, Pinky.”

Pinky’s smile dropped from his face, but I ignored him. Pinky’s not tough like I am. He’s bugging me to teach him how to astral-travel, but there’s no way I’m letting him loose on the astral plane if it’s not safe. He’d freak out if he had nightmares and make me come over to his house and sleep over to protect him, which means I’d have to listen to him snoring every night.

I looked past Pinky, ignored his dramatic sniff and saw the hottest guy I’d seen in a long time. He was over six feet tall and bulky like a weight lifter. He had a deep tan as if he’d spent hours baking in the sun on Bondi Beach in Sydney, which is close to the gym. It wasn’t just his size that drew my attention, it was his demeanor. He was watchful, like a cop who was used to working a tough beat. He carried anger with him, which drew my attention because I love a man with energy, even dark energy, because it makes for the hottest sex if tuned right.

I sauntered from reception, letting him drink in my form, my perfect, gym-toned body. I was wearing a red micro top and matching shorts that started at my hip line and finished just below my bottom. When I came close I took in Michael’s hard, sharp features. His eyes were the color of the sea and the lids were heavily hooded, which on another man might have looked sleepy. Not on Michael. Instead, it gave him a predatory look and I didn’t know whether he was the kiss-or-kill type, just that he had full lips made for kissing. He had thick black hair down to his shoulders, a hooklike nose with slim nostrils. His tongue flicked out between his full lips and something about the action made me shiver, yet my nipples in my bra hardened. Perfect. The tiny hairs on my arms rose. I loved working on a man who intrigued me.

I had a sense that I’d encountered Michael before but I’d checked his file and this was his first booking. I was surprised he booked me because the well-built, lift-and-grunt guys prefer lift-and-grunt trainers, whereas I order my clients to work hard and fast until they’re so weak from exertion they’re at my mercy.

“Hi, Michael, I’m Gabby.” I held out my hand to shake his. When he took my hand in his, he used his strength to pull me in close so that I was up against his chest and he was looking down into my eyes. His narrowed into slits. I couldn’t pull my gaze away. I couldn’t move. I noticed that he had tattoos on both pectoral muscles that showed over his singlet top, hoops that curled and wound around each other, stopping just under his collarbone. Snakes. The spit dried in my mouth. I realized what they were. I adore snakes. I have an affinity for the creatures, especially pythons, since I’d bred them as a child. I stared, fixated, until someone tapped my shoulder.

“Excuse me, Gabby?” Pinky asked.

The spell broken, I pulled my hand from Michael’s and turned, relieved that I could move again.

“Would Michael be interested in a massage after his session with you?”

That was Pinky’s code for was I interested in having him follow Michael into the showers to see how big his penis was? He knew I never wasted time on a man with a small cock.

“What a great idea,” I said. “Michael?” This was one client who was going to learn that he would not be able to dominate me, but I liked it that he tried. He’d learn.

“Let’s see your style first,” Michael said, not taking his eyes from my face. His voice was deep and low and I had to strain to hear it. When he spoke the soft consonants seemed to blend into each other, making a hissing sound.

“You’ll give me everything you’ve got,” I replied.

“And more,” Michael said with a challenge in his voice.

“Wow!” Pinky raised his perfectly plucked eyebrows and his butterball face flushed before he moved back behind reception. He loved me when a client rose to my bait. He often begged me to let him watch me seduce a client on account of Pinky never getting laid due to his rotund size, but I think that’s taking friendship a step too far.

For a moment, I swayed on my feet under Michael’s gaze and I swear one of the heads of the snake tattoos just under his collarbone moved. I blinked and stepped back. Crazy thought. “Time to get started,” I said, keen to avoid his hypnotic gaze. I led the way to one of the rooms that contained mats and stretching equipment, aware that for a large man he moved soundlessly behind me. Grabbing one of the big mats, I laid it on the ground.

“What are you here for?” I asked. Every muscle, every ridge of his body, was defined with such perfection that I wanted to explore him. Take off his singlet to stroke his skin and run my fingers over his tattoos, explore the indelible ink.

“You,” he said. “I waited lifetimes to find my mate.” His voice was low and rolled like thunder when he said it.

His words made my breath stop in my throat. He said it like he wanted to devour me as if he had the power to make me his.

“I’m a loner. I don’t have mates,” I said, using the Aussie lexicon for friends, even though I knew that wasn’t what he meant.

He gave me a hard stare. “Not for long.”

A short, sharp thrill made my nipples harden. I loved a man who was confident, especially a man who was over six feet and packing rock-hard muscle. “You’ll have to impress me and that’s not easy. I train a lot of men.”

“You haven’t done me.”

This guy was looking at me like he was about to throw his big arms around me, crush me to him and dominate me with his size. He had no idea that I intended to work him until he was dripping, to get him used to taking my orders instead. I jabbed him in the chest. “I set a high standard. Get down and start with some push-ups. I want to see you sweat.” I loved having a man in my power.

He looked me over slowly, focusing on my breasts, and I enjoyed the confrontation in his gaze, but I folded my arms, waiting until he bent and moved the mat so that instead of standing on the side of it, I stood at the top. Fine. If he wanted to examine my feet as he pressed, that was okay with me.

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