You lean back in your chair, your eyes tracing the tattoos on his chest. One expanding across his collarbones, another down his ribs, and one more even lower.

The camera projecting on your computer gives you a great view of him working out.

It’s a small camera that you set up on his treadmill. One he’d never notice.

You watch as he slows to a walk, sweat glistening off his abs and the band of his shorts hanging low on his hips.

He holds onto the bars of the treadmill and leans down until he’s eye level with the camera.

He smirks and your heart races. “Let me know when you get tired of watching, hm, beautiful?”