You slipped into the luxurious spa area of your friend’s gym, feeling a mix of excitement and relaxation as you checked in, using her membership for a much-needed massage. The serene atmosphere enveloped you as you settled into a robe, the soft sounds of calming music filling the air. You barely had time to close your eyes when you noticed the gym area through the large glass windows—specifically, a man lifting weights, his intense focus making his every movement look calculated and controlled.

The sight of him—muscles flexing, sweat glistening on his skin, the sharp focus in his eyes, his sleeve of connecting black ink—was enough to make your breath catch. His military presence was undeniable, even in this casual setting, special forces maybe. Both your brother and father were military men so you knew how to spot them.

Your breath hitched. There was something about him. The way he moved, the way he carried himself. His eyes met yours for a split second—intense, knowing, almost as if he could see right through you—and in that moment, you felt the familiar stir of attraction. Feeling the embarrassment of being caught you quickly adverted your gaze, scurrying down the hall to the masseur.

After a peaceful massage, you slipped back into your clothes, feeling relaxed but slightly off balance after that brief, lingering moment. As you exited the spa, mentally shaking off the brief moment of awkwardness, you collided with a solid figure just outside the door.

“Watch where you’re going,” came a low voice, familiar and smooth.

You looked up, only to find the man standing there, still in workout gear, his eyes crinkled slightly in amusement. His intense gaze was even more captivating up close.