Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

and then back up.
“I’ll live it up,” Clay says in a low voice, taunting. “With someone who
makes sure the only way I can leave his bed when he’s done with me is by
crawling. Someone with a chest like a brick wall, and a cock, not a weewee.”
A laugh bubbles up from my chest, but I stifle it quickly. I hate her, and I
hate that I laugh at her sense of humor, but I also hate her boytoy, Callum,
and the joke was at his expense, so I’m excused. My jaw relaxes.
Amy continues the fantasy. “Someone who smells like a sea god and is
named…”
“Gabriel,” Clay adds.
“Gabriel.” Krisjen sighs, sounding dreamy.
“But ‘Gabriel’ wants an experienced woman,” Amy warns her.
“Gabriel doesn’t want to break me of another man’s lousy technique,”
Clay fires back. “He’ll teach me everything.”
My teammates laugh at each other, and I just roll my eyes as I head for
the chest press and lie back on the bench.
This Gabriel sounds like a gem. He’ll make her into a real woman and
teach the fragile little damsel how to take her man with silence and a smile.
God, she’s pathetic.
A picture of Clay Collins, naked and willing as she wraps her arms and
legs around some beefy, sweaty, misogynistic shit-for-brains plays in my
head, and I suddenly feel like I have hair on my tongue.
Without thinking, I lower my eyes from the ceiling, looking straight over
at her. Her blue eyes are already on me as she runs on the treadmill.
Why is she staring? Strands of loose blonde hair bounce against her face,
her skin glowing with a light layer of sweat, and for a moment, I can’t move.
For a moment, she’s beautiful.
“¿Cual es son tu pasatiempos?” a voice rings in my ears.
I startle, realizing the earbuds have kicked back on and my tutorial has
continued. The pain in my arms blares, and I still have the barbell suspended
above me, and I don’t know how long it’s been there.
I clear my throat, swallow, and bring the weights down and then quickly
push back up as a cool sweat covers my back.
“¿…cual es son tu pasa… tiempos?” I mutter, trying to get my head back
on track. “Ti-emp-os.”
“What are you doing?”
I look up, pausing only a moment when I see it’s Megan Martelle. She