They didn’t make it ten minutes.
By the time Mary finished her cool-down stretches, legs shaky, white shorts soaked through and clinging like a second skin, John was already walking toward the facility door with that look in his eyes. She followed without a word, heart hammering harder than any sprint drill.
Inside the office it was dim and cool, blinds half-drawn against the late-afternoon sun. The big leather couch faced his desk; on the coffee table sat the remote and a fresh bottles of water. The projector screen on the far wall glowed softly, waiting.
John locked the door behind them, then simply opened his arms.
Mary walked straight into them.
The kiss started gentle, grateful, almost reverent, but within seconds it turned hungry. Hands roamed, breaths mingled, clothes disappear
