His voice was rougher than usual, low from the exercise. It went straight between my legs.

“Morning,” I said, trying to sound normal. My eyes dropped before I could stop them. The tank top was soaked. I could see the shape of his chest, the way the sweat made his skin shine. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, tipped his head back, and drank. I watched his throat work, watched a drop of sweat slide down from his jaw and disappear under the collar of the tank.

Then he set the bottle down and peeled the tank top off in one smooth pull. The fabric dragged up...