She was friendly, too.  I wasn’t sure why, but she usually took the machine next to mine, if it was empty, though there were lots to choose from.  She always had a smile for me, too.

Maybe I reminded her of her dad.  Or f**k, her grandpa.

It didn’t bear thinking about.

I’d never been with a younger woman, let alone one that much younger.  Hell, she’d probably give me a heart attack.  I shook off the thought.  A flawless little thing like that wouldn’t give me a second glance, and I told myself that was a good thing.

She was likely jailbait, and for a man that’d never even had a speeding ticket, just the idea of that was too scandalous to linger on.

Still, my eyes were drawn, time and again, to her perfect figure jogging hard on that treadmill.  Her legs were incredible, long and slender, bare from the top of her thighs to her ankles, and so toned and tan.

I made myself look away and not look back.

I hit the one-hour mark on the machine when I saw her slow and stop out of the corner of my eye.  This had become a pattern, too.  I did exactly one hour of cardio, before I hit the weights.  She seemed to be working a similar routine, and every day I saw her, it became even more similar.

I almost jumped in surprise when she approached me directly, standing on the very front of my machine, to get my attention.

My gaze traveled up slowly, trying not to linger on the way her br**sts rose out of her sports bra’s neckline as she leaned into my machine.  She was spilling out of the thing.

She beamed at me.

I swallowed hard, catching the side bar and swinging first one leg, and then the other, onto the footrests on the sides, coming to a stop.

I popped out an ear bud, raising my brows in what I hoped was a look of polite interest.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey,” I panted back, shutting the treadmill down.  May as well quit, since I’d reached my goal.

She handed me my towel, and I took it, immediately wiping my brow.  This was a new development, and a strange one, to be sure.

She held up the second towel, my OCD towel, if you will.  “I saw that you have two.  I forgot mine.  You mind if I borrow it?”

I shook my head.  “Go for it.  Glad I could help.”

She smiled again.  Her teeth were gorgeous, straight and white against her tan skin.  “What’s your name?” she asked me.

I was caught off guard, and so it took me a few extra beats to answer awkwardly.  “Alasdair.”

She raised her brows, looking intrigued.  “Nice name.  It has a lot of character.  Do you shorten it at all, or should I call you that, Alasdair?”

Hearing her say my name made me feel indecent.  Just beastly.  I briefly considered cutting my workout short.  “Sometimes my friends call me Dair.”

“Dair.  I like that too.  And are you daring, Dair?”

“Not particularly,” I said quickly, my heart pounding.  I couldn’t quite believe that she was hitting on me, but if she was, I needed to put a short stop to it.

Way too young, I told myself firmly.

I moved to the weights, and she followed like we were old friends.  I started doing curls, eyes glued to her as she grabbed some smaller weights and started doing dead lifts with a hammer curl.

The sight of that nearly had me slack-jawed.  The move consisted of her bending down at the waist, her legs straight, and touching the ground, then lifting back, her ponytail bouncing, back arched, her incredible ass sticking out, and bringing her arms into a curl.

She faced away from me when she did it, giving me a perfect view.  Her shorts were so thin, her skin so supple, that it was more perfectly designed to turn me on than a  p**n o.  And I’d watched plenty of  p**n .  The girl was set on giving me a heart attack today.

She kept doing it for the longest time, sending me a look over her shoulder as she straightened on the last rep.  She smiled that sweet little smile at me.  “Well, aren’t you going to ask me?”

I had no idea what she was talking about, but my mind went very dirty with it.

Could you do that one more time, but pull your shorts down for this one, so I can f**k your brains out?  I was pretty positive that wasn’t what she meant.

Can I give you a ride home?  Or maybe a hard ride on my cock?  Nope, those two were out, too.

Or how about, Want to grab a coffee after this?  That one was better, but I held my tongue.

“Excuse me?” I asked instead.  The safest bet of all.

“My name.  I know yours now.  Don’t you want to know mine?”

I smiled politely, sincerely hoping that my raging hard-on wasn’t too obvious.  I was wearing athletic pants and a long sweatshirt, so I was probably safe.  “Yes, of course.  Nice to meet you…”

“Iris.”

My brows shot up.  You didn’t see many girls her age named Iris.  “Iris?”

Her eyes twinkled at me.  She gave very good eye contact.  Intense, but good.  “Don’t you like it?”

“Y-yes,” I stammered out.  “It’s a beautiful name.”

“It’s always easy to pick out flowers for me.  My favorite flower is the same as my name.”

“I’ll make a note of it.”  What the f**k did you say that for? I asked myself.  Of course I wouldn’t be getting her flowers.  Totally inappropriate.