FIT: #1 in the Fit Trilogy Read online

  On the flipside, Grant wasn’t opposed to mixing his primary business with pleasure. He’d slept with clients before and he was sure he’d do it again. Armando did it all the fucking the time. The two of them had met at a pseudo-bondage party, grew close over their interest in kink and their obsessive dedication to working out, and eventually decided to go into business together. They’d both trained submissives and the occasional Mistress when things got a little routine. They’d both played inside and outside of the gym but lately, at least for Grant, things had been a little slow, even if it was by choice.

  Everything had been slow. The classes and training sessions had grown routine, even with the occasional new client thrown into the mix. He had no woman to call his own. His family was three thousand miles away and more than happy with his simple monthly call home. He was bored and, even though it would take a lot for him to admit it openly, outside of this gym he was lonely. He had his friends, his pets, and his co-workers, but not much else. He didn’t know when, but at some point something needed to change. He needed a change.

  He continued clicking through picture after picture of Violet’s smiling face, until Armando came through the office door. An hour of yoga and he hadn’t broken a sweat.

  “What’s up, man?” Armando rummaged through his own things until he produced his cell phone.

  “Nothing,” Grant said. “Well, new client shit, but nothing.”

  Armando leaned over the desk and got a better look at Grant’s computer screen. “This her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s cute, and I assume she can afford you. What’s the problem?” Armando asked, his interest in the conversation already waning. He had another class to teach in forty minutes. So did Grant, but his buddy was already thinking about the next group of clients. Grant was stuck on Violet Ryan and her innocent freckles.

  “I’m thinking about dusting off the D/s file.”

  Armando froze in his tracks, then pivoted around to face Grant.

  “I know. It’s risky,” Grant said.

  “It’s not risky, it’s—”

  “Risky.”

  “No, you can handle it. I know you can. I just didn’t know you were ready. Is Ariana that far from your head? She was a dick, but I figured you a learned something from that.”

  “She wasn’t a dick.”

  “She stole your credit cards and tried to steal Max when you broke up with her.”

  It had been six months since he ended things with his client-turned-submissive. His credit rating and his dog were still trying to recover. It wasn’t that he’d slept with her, it was that he’d trusted her more than he should. He was looking for love and she was looking for someone to bleed dry. “You’re right, she was a dick, but I think it might be time.”

  “Good luck, man.” Armando looked at the screen again, his expression one of genuine approval. “Could be fun.”

  Grant clicked through her pictures one more time. Before his imagination got the best of him, he grabbed his cellphone and dialed Violet Ryan’s number.

  CHAPTER TWO

  2

  Day 2

  Violet pushed back her lunch date with Faye to meet up with this Grant Gibson guy. He’d called her the afternoon before, in the middle of her post-workout, leftover-pizza-induced nap. He suggested they meet at a juice bar around the corner from his gym in West Hollywood. She got there first, ordered herself something loaded with berries and kale, then took a seat outside. The spring weather was perfect. Sunny, but not too warm. She was on the verge of kicking off her sandals to really soak it all in when this beautiful mountain of a man approached her table.

  “Violet?” he said, stretching out his hand. Oh, and that voice.

  “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise. I’m Grant.”

  Violet stood, shook his hand, and did her best not to drool. Grant Gibson wasn’t just a trainer. He was some sort of Scandinavian athletic god, tall and perfectly toned. Blue-eyed, with blond hair that was longer than most guys were wearing these days, but thick and styled perfectly back away from his face, cut cleanly along the base of his neck. His beard was thick but manicured, gold with patches of red and brown. And his lips…

  He wore jeans and sneakers and a dark-gray hoodie, unzipped, showing off a white t-shirt and the outlines of the tattoos that decorated the broad chest underneath. Somehow Violet kept it together. She didn’t babble or stumble over her chair as she moved to sit back down, but the thoughts running through her head? They were messy and very, very dirty.

  Grant took the other seat and offered Violet an easy smile. He was dangerous, this one. “So tell me about yourself,” he said.

  “Well. I’ve been wanting to get in shape. Actually, I have a goal weight I want to reach. I know it’ll take a long time. I can be patient, but I need to get started. I’m sick of looking this way and I’m sure, in some way I’m not seeing, these extra pounds can’t be good for my health.”

  “That’s cool. So why don’t you tell me about yourself?” Grant repeated. He licked his lips, then smiled even wider.

  Violet almost kicked him in his stupid shin, but that grin he flashed her melted her reflexes. He was sarcastic. Okay. She could do sarcastic.

  Violet leaned forward and mimicked his tone. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself. I’m fat. I want to pay you to make me unfat. Why don’t you tell me how you’re going to make that happen?”

  Grant sat back and stretched his long legs out beside her chair. She thought about straddling him and kissing that look of satisfaction right off his face. But as fun as the brief fantasy seemed, it wouldn’t help her achieve her weight-loss goal.

  “I’m not going to make anything happen. It’s on you, but here’s how I can help.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I believe our outside reflects the way we feel inside, whether that’s good or bad, clean-cut or complicated. For some people, it’s about our weight. For others it’s about the way we dress or the way we sport our hair or the way we accessorize. Buddy of mine won’t leave the house without his gold watch.”

  “That makes sense. So you want to know about my insides?”

  Grant chuckled as he shifted in his chair. He had dimples under all that scruff. “Yes, Violet. I want to get inside of you.”

  “Well, all you had to do was ask. My car is right around the corner.”

  “Tempting. Really it is.” For a moment, Violet thought he might be serious. She might have issues with her weight but she wasn’t completely hopeless with men. She knew when a guy was flirting, and Grant climb-me-like-a-tree-and-shake-all-my-branches Gibson was definitely flirting. Or so she thought. He got right back to business.

  “But that’s not exactly what I mean. I have clients who come to me to lose weight for weddings or movies they’re starring in or just to get back at their spouses, but every once in a while I have a client who wants to lose weight for themselves. In order to help you with that, I want to know why you put the weight on in the first place and why you keep it on. That way I can help you take it off and keep it off. Basically, I want to be the last trainer you see.”

  Oh, he was good. Smooth, honest, and a bit poetic. He could be the last of anything Violet ever had. Too bad he was talking about the circumference of her thighs and not gracing her bed or her backseat with his own gorgeous body.

  “Tell me more about your techniques,” she said. “Margaret made it sound like you were the Fatty Whisperer.”

  Grant’s laughter sputtered out this time, his eyes alight with humor. “I do have a way about me that people seem to appreciate. I won’t deny that, but, really, I would like to get to know you. I need to know what drives you. What you couldn’t care less about. What kind of encouragement works on you. What doesn’t.”

  “I’m a sucker for positive reinforcement. I can admit that. And I do better in solo environments. Margaret’s class reminded me of middle school gym, and that wasn’t a happy time for me.”

 
; Grant suddenly seemed to withdraw, like he was thinking heavily on something. Maybe she’d said too much. He was used to socialites and actresses, not East Coast girls with childhood complexes about being the only Chinese kid in their whole school.

  “What is it?” Violet asked. “Too much?”

  “No, that’s not it. Can I ask you something?” Something in his tone set off alarm bells in her head. He was about to say something she had no interest in hearing.

  “Sure…”

  “What do you know about Domination and submission?”

  “Oh, Jesus.” Violet shoved back in her seat and clutched her purse against her stomach. The commotion drew the stares of the juice drinkers nearby. “Are you kidding me right now? What is this all about?”

  “You said you respond well to positive reinforcement. I’m simply trying to figure out which kind.” Violet could sense his confidence was wavering, but he really wanted to see this line of thinking through. Fine. She’d let him take it all the way and then she’d bitch him out and leave. Thanks a lot, Margaret. This was not what she signed up for.

  “I know a little about BDSM. I’ve never participated in it though. Do you have any idea how unprofessional you sound right now?”

  “I’m sorry.” Grant held out his hands, like he was trying to calm a frightened dog. “Please, stay. Just hear me out. Please.”

  “Fine.” Violet eased back into her chair.

  “As long as I’ve been a personal trainer, I’ve been a part of the BDSM lifestyle, as a Dominant.”

  “And?”

  Finally he gave up and his confidence faltered completed. He leaned forward and scrubbed his face with his large hands, as his whole head seemed to turn bright red. She knew the color of embarrassment well. When he looked up, Violet could see the genuine regret in his eyes.

  “Violet, I am really sorry. I read this chemistry between us all wrong.” So he had been flirting. Great. Too bad he completely blew it. Still, Violet tried to relax. He’d made a mistake, but at least he was trying to own it.

  “It’s okay. It’s fine. You were saying?”

  “Forget what I said. It’s off the table. It was never on the table. I promise, none of that will be a part of this.”

  “So you’re saying you can train me without trying to whip me or fuck me?” She let the sarcasm drip. “You’re willing to make that sacrifice?”

  “Really. I thought I read something in you—never mind. We do a simple on-ramp program. I gauge your current fitness level and we go from there. We’ll cover nutrition and then, when you get where you want to be, we’ll focus on maintenance.”

  “And no flogging or chains required?” Violet asked, doing nothing to hide the look of disgust on her face.

  “Fuck, I’m such an idiot. No, none of that. I promise.” Grant reached into his pocket and pulled out a black business card, then handed it to Violet. She looked at the cream and red lettering.

  Grant Gibson Owner/Trainer Melrose Fitness

  It should have read: Dom/Smooth Operator/Professional Buffoon/Can’t Read Women For Shit

  “Why don’t you think it over? About training with me. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll completely understand. If you decide you want to, we can get started this week.”

  Violet glanced between him and the card. She didn’t know what was left to consider. He was gorgeous, she couldn’t ignore that obvious detail. And it wasn’t that she thought consenting adults didn’t have the right to get their jollies off in all sorts of different ways, but this wasn’t about Grant Gibson’s perfect body or his flawless face. Violet had a huge change she wanted to make, and she couldn’t do it with someone who was looking to “get kinky”. She took his card and slid it into a small pocket inside her bag. She’d toss it in the trash when he wasn’t around to see.

  “Why did we meet here instead of at your gym?”

  “I find that the gym itself is intimidating for people who are just getting started. There’s an advanced kick-boxing class going on right now, and I didn’t think that would give you the idea that I was trying to ease you into your workouts.”

  A brutal comeback about trying to ease her into BDSM was on the tip of her tongue, but she let it go.

  “Okay, well. I have to meet a friend for lunch.” Violet snatched up the rest of her berry-kale drink and stood to leave. “It was... interesting to meet you.”

  Grant stood as well. A more sincere smile touched his lips this time. He knew he’d fucked up. “It was.”

  Violet nodded then walked toward her car. She could feel Grant Gibson’s eyes on her back the whole way.

  ✶

  Hours later Grant found himself where he wound up on most Sunday nights. Alone on his couch, Lakers on his TV, beer in his hand, black cat at his shoulder and snoring Rottweiler at his side.

  He thought about calling Master Philip and seeing if he could drop into the club, maybe haul some sweet new thing over his knee and teach her a thing or two about patience and obedience. But the idea was immediately chased away by the memory of the grimace of horror that had popped up on Violet Ryan’s face the second he’d opened his big fucking mouth.

  He’d fucked up. Huge. Was Violet his type? Hell yeah—she was pretty, smart, funny—but he had interpreted her all wrong. She wanted a trainer, they both got that part. But the flirting, the way she nearly stripped him bare with her eyes the moment he sat down at the table? He’d gotten that all wrong. There had been attraction, a mutual one at that, but just because he was looking for more didn’t mean she was.

  Grant thought Violet would be an amazing submissive, but she wasn’t his to test that theory and he’d completely driven her away by suggesting their professional relationship should become even the slightest bit sexual.

  He could just picture her now, telling her friends about this pervert trainer who tries to seduce his clients before their first Visa payment even went through. She’d probably give Margaret an earful too, for suggesting this guy who made it seem like he couldn’t keep it in pants. Margaret knew all about him so she wouldn’t hold that part against him, but she’d rib him royally for making such an ass out of himself. Either way, it was time for him to suck it up and go back to the club or at least take it to the Internet. He had needs that had to be met.

  Just as the third quarter ended, his phone jumped and sang on the coffee table. His cat, Bill, dug his claws into his jeans at the sound. It was probably Armando asking if he wanted to grab some food or a drink before they started their week. But when he picked up the phone he didn’t see his buddy’s name and he didn’t recognize the number.

  “Grant Gibson,” he said.

  Violet Ryan’s sweet voice answered back. “Are you a chubby chaser? Like do you just screw fat women as some sort of fetish? Does banging big girls stroke your ego?”

  “No.” Grant laughed. “It’s nothing like that.”

  “Do you have yellow fever? Do you only date Asian women? Should I tell you now that I’m Chinese, not Korean or Japanese, lest it fuck up some weird nationalist streak you have going?”

  Grant’s laugh was pretty manic this time. “Whoa. No. And what kind of guys have you been dating?”

  “I haven’t been dating those guys. I just know those guys are out there. Anyway, you gotta tell me what gives. That was… Yeah, I don’t know what the hell that was. I want you to train me, but you have to help me out here. Explain.”

  Grant couldn’t believe she’d called. Pleased that she was even willing to speak with him, he dropped the Don Juan act and told her the truth. “I find you very attractive and I thought we clicked on another level. I can handle being wrong but, no, I don’t chubby chase. I’m not an Asian fetishist. My last girlfriend was Greek. This, what I proposed, is all about you and the fact that I genuinely like what I know about you so far.”

  “Have you done this with your clients before?”

  “Yes. Three times. Twice it was mutually causal, just bondage and submission, and once it got serious and turned in
to a long term, exclusive relationship.”

  “Why did it end?”

  “You’re digging right in there, aren’t you?”

  “Uh, yeah. Three seconds after I meet you, you basically suggest we should fuck while I’m trying to lose weight. I think I’m allowed to ask some questions, so spill it, buster. Why did it end?”

  “She was a thief.”

  “What?” Violet had every right to snicker. It had been Grant’s same reaction when he first found out the truth about Ariana.

  “She liked to steal. Money, clothing. She maxed out two of my credit cards and then, when I broke up with her, she tried to take my dog as a parting gift.” Max whimpered beside him, as if he were recalling the trauma of that fateful autumn night.

  “She tried to steal your dog?”

  “Yeah. Tried to take his doggy bowl and his toys too.”

  “What kind of dog is it?”

  “Rottweiler. His name is Max. He’s still a big puppy.”

  “Cute. I like dogs. My landlord won’t allow them and I work too much to really take care of one, but I like them.” This is good, Grant thought. Let’s talk more about dogs and less about me being a complete dickhead.

  “So, did you just approach the others all forward? Or did you at least wait until the second session?” Grant didn’t really know where she was going with this. At first she sounded angry and offended, but now she sounded interested. A little intrigued.

  “It just happened. Well, one woman knew about me. She’d heard about my extracurricular interests through a friend, so she brought it up herself. But the other two, it just happened.”

  “So what about me? Why didn’t I get that chance to ease into it? Test where the chemistry could go between us. Do I look that desperate?”

  “No. It’s me. I’m the desperate one.”

  “Oh, that sounds great.”

  “No! No! That’s not what I meant. I think you’re beautiful, Violet. You’re funny as hell. I should have just told you that, but I’ve never had an adult relationship that didn’t involve my kinks in some way. I just got a little ahead of myself. I’m sorry.”