Into My Arms Read Online Free

when he got back worked as a personal trainer. The money was good, but even that palled after a while. He didn’t much care about his clients’ pinch-test results; he’d never cared about his own. He wanted to do something with his brain, he realised, not just his body. Moving into management helped for a bit, and then one day a middle-aged man Hamish was preparing for a marathon mentioned that he was a futures trader. As they ran together his client explained the industry and what he did all day; maybe Hamish should look into it, he suggested. He could study part time while he worked at the gym. The idea appealed, and then stuck fast. A future was what Hamish needed, after all. He’d been good at maths at school, he reasoned, at least on those rare occasions when he wasn’t training or competing, and this had the advantage of longevity. Fitness was a young person’s game, and he was in his thirties now. Recently, whenever he filled in for an absent instructor his lower back ached afterwards; his knees had begun to seize up in cold weather. None of that would matter in an office. Flesh was weak. He needed a plan B.
    Maybe Skye’s art could be that for her, Hamish thought as he moved to the front of the spectators’ gallery, hoping she’d spot him. After all, it was another form of exhibitionism; she would still be on display. Nell seemed to think Skye had some talent, and as a painter herself she should probably know. Hamish had no idea. All the same, he’d encouraged her with it, because she couldn’t teach gym forever.
    Not that you could tell Skye that, of course. The only time he’d dared suggest such a possibility—that one day her limbs might fail her or arthritis set in—she’d been immediately offended. The trouble was that she thought she was unique, immune; imagined she’d always be able to do exactly what she pleased. Hamish found himself thinking about the first time they’d slept together, just a few weeks after those probation classes. She’d certainly done as she liked then; she knew what she wanted and how to achieve it. He’d been well aware of the attraction between them, and had been planning to ask her out. If he’d considered seduction at all, it was in terms of dinner, crisp sheets, candlelight . . . And then, after one of her evening classes, Skye hauled him into the storage area for the mats, had his shorts down and her hand round his cock before he could even be sure the door was shut. He hadn’t completely enjoyed it, to be honest, though the smell of foam still turned him on. Skye’s students had left and the gym was emptying, but the rhythmic thump of a step class continued next door, and with it the fear that at any moment someone might burst in and catch him screwing his staff. Skye, of course, hadn’t been bothered. She’d taken charge, despite the seven-year age gap between them, despite the step class and the unlocked door and her sports bra that he couldn’t undo. Later, when he knew her better, Hamish realised that the risk was part of the appeal. Unlike him, Skye got a kick out of taking chances, and probably wouldn’t have minded being caught. Perhaps, he wondered, she might even have enjoyed it, felt as if she was back in front of the judges, legs splayed, toes pointed.
    ‘Are you hiding out from the boss or perving on the students?’
    It was Vanessa, one of the other instructors, who’d sneaked up behind him while he was lost in thought.
    Hamish moved closer to the guard rail to hide his erection. ‘Neither,’ he protested. There were plenty of opportunities for voyeurism in his job, but the level ten girls below, all flat chests and hipbones, did nothing for him.
    ‘Just as well,’ cautioned Vanessa, then peered down into the gym herself, where Skye was coaching her class through a sequence of flip-flops. She observed for a moment, then said, ‘I know who you’re watching. She’s a good teacher, isn’t she? They all love her.’
    ‘You’re a good