The next morning, Mia was already regretting the sports bra she picked. Again.
It had taken her twenty minutes just to wedge herself into it—pull, twist, wiggle—and still, the "support" felt like a rumor. The neckline wasn't even low, but the fullness of her chest made everything look scandalous anyway. Even her hoodie couldn't fully tame the silhouette beneath.
She blamed Will.
Not just for yesterday's shameless bounce commentary, but for the way her body had stayed on fire the whole evening. His words stuck in her head like heat on skin. "Maybe you stop trying to hide them." She couldn't stop replaying it. And the look he gave her? God, it made her legs cross every time she thought of it.
She reached the studio early, hoping to get her bearings before he arrived. But as she rounded the corner to the main room, there he was.
Already there. Already stretching.
And already looking at her like she was the only thing in the room worth noticing.
"Didn't expect you this early," she said, trying to sound casual.
Will straightened up. His eyes flicked to the soft, subtle bounce under her zipped hoodie as she walked. She pretended not to notice—though she felt every inch of his stare.
"Didn't want to miss anything," he replied smoothly. "Especially not the warmup."
"You mean the jiggle preview?"
He grinned. "You said it, not me."
Mia rolled her eyes, but there was no heat behind it. Just amusement—and a rising pulse. "Let's make a deal. You focus on my form, not my front."
He stepped forward, close enough that she could feel the warmth coming off him. "Can't promise that."
She inhaled deeply. The scent of eucalyptus and salt clung to his skin. Her heartbeat thumped in her ears.
"Fine," she said, stepping around him and bending slightly to adjust a weight bench. Her rear shifted higher, her breasts pulling forward under the hoodie as she reached out. She knew what she looked like in that position. She counted on it.
"Distracted already?" she teased over her shoulder.
He didn't answer. Just let out a slow breath like he was trying to behave.
She smirked and stood up.
The session started with bench dips, followed by resistance band chest presses. Mia made sure to take her time with each rep, letting her breasts shift beneath the taut fabric of her top. Even without direct eye contact, she felt Will watching—every rise and fall, every controlled breath.
By the time they got to overhead stretches, she was sure he was going to combust.
"Arms up," he said, standing behind her, "and lean back slightly."
She lifted her arms, breasts thrusting out proudly as the stretch pulled her tight. Will moved in closer to assist, palms gently pressing against her back.
"Just here," he murmured, his voice a little too close to her ear.
The contact sent a ripple down her spine. Her nipples hardened instantly beneath the sports bra—captive, prominent, impossible to ignore.
He felt it. She knew he did. But still, no lines were crossed.
Just held.
Breath lingered.
Tension sizzled.
"I think this stretch is making it worse," she whispered, half-turning her head, breath fanning against his jaw.
"What is?"
"The... bounce problem."
His fingers shifted slightly on her back, but he didn't let go. "I don't think it's a problem."
She dropped her arms slowly and turned to face him. His hands hovered at his sides. Her chest was only inches from his now, rising and falling with each breath. The hoodie stretched with it—taut, curved, impossible to miss.
She let her fingers toy with the zipper.
Just a little.
"Maybe it's the bra," she said quietly. "Or maybe they just don't make anything that can... hold all this."
Her voice was honey-drenched now. Teasing. Testing.
Will's gaze didn't stray. He wasn't blinking. "I can believe that."
She unzipped an inch. Just enough to hint at cleavage.
"Is that why you keep staring?"
"I'm not staring," he said.
She arched a brow.
"I'm appreciating," he corrected, voice hoarse.
She smirked.
And then, just for a heartbeat, she let her fingers slip lower on the zipper. Enough to make her chest bounce ever so slightly, the tight fabric parting to show more skin.
"You think they pass the bounce test?"
His jaw clenched. "They destroy the bounce test."
She tilted her head, pleased. The power she held was addictive. And the way he looked at her made her feel bold. Dangerous. Alive.
"You haven't even seen the incline yet," she said, stepping back toward the angled bench.
"I don't need to," he murmured. "I already know."
But she laid back anyway, adjusting her position on the bench. Her chest rose dramatically as she pushed the weights upward, back arched slightly. The bra struggled to contain the motion—every press, every slow lift brought attention to her shape.
Will stood to the side, arms crossed tight over his chest like he was physically restraining himself. His jaw was tight, his gaze laser-focused.
"You okay over there?" she asked sweetly, lowering the weights and letting her breasts settle with a subtle jiggle.
He cleared his throat. "I'm fine. You're... not making it easy."
"That's the idea."
She sat up slowly, the fabric of her hoodie now clinging with a fine sheen of sweat. Her hair was damp at the edges. Her face flushed. Her breasts looked even fuller now, straining against the damp fabric, nipples threatening to push forward.
Will stepped closer.
But still—still—neither of them crossed that final line.
Not yet.
"You need a cool down?" he asked, voice low, rough.
"Only if you're leading it," she replied.
They stared at each other.
And then, finally, she reached out, lightly brushing her fingers over his forearm as she passed him on her way to the locker room.
Over her shoulder, she tossed back, "Maybe tomorrow we test it with less fabric."
Will didn't answer.
But the look he gave her?
That said everything.