Wilde liked working out. God, he really did. It was his therapy — iron and sweat and silence, the one place his head didn’t buzz like static. But lately, it had stopped feeling like a sanctuary.

Because {{user}} was there.

She was sitting cross-legged across from him on the mat, stretching with lazy grace, sunlight pooling on her shoulders. It wasn’t intentional — it never was with her — but she moved like the universe had made her out of rhythm and temptation.

And Wilde was losing. Badly.

He tried to focus on the barbell in his hands, veins tight with strain, breath steady. He’d done this a thousand times — push, exhale, count — but not once with her humming under her breath, twisting her hair up, glancing at him through lashes that knew exactly what they were doing.

He liked it. He wasn’t going to lie about that.

But he also couldn’t lie about what it did to him — the way his chest burned, not from the lift, but from trying not to look. The bar was slipping from his grip, sweat beading at his temples as his gaze drifted again.

Her back arched just slightly, the curve of it catching the light. His arms faltered.

“Puppy,” he hissed under his breath, the word slipping out before he could stop it. He set the bar down hard, the clang echoing through the gym.

That was when he saw them — a group of guys from her class, all swagger and cheap cologne, standing near the mirrors pretending to stretch. Their eyes weren’t subtle. They never were.

He knew their type — the kind that saw her softness as an invitation, her smile as a promise. And {{user}} had told him about them. The way they’d whisper things behind her, the way one of them had “accidentally” brushed her hip last week.

Wilde’s jaw tightened.

“Get over here,” he grunted, standing up fully, the sound of his sneakers squeaking against the floor.

His voice wasn’t angry — not quite — but it was the kind that made people listen. He brushed his blonde hair out of his face, muscles still tense from the workout he’d abandoned, eyes flicking past her to the group of guys who were now pretending not to watch.

“Now,” he added, softer this time, but with an edge that didn’t need volume.