Rebecca
I thought I’d signed up for a few squats and sit-ups… not a full-body awakening.
Walking into the gym, I expected a female trainer. What I got instead was a sinfully fit man with a smirk, a stopwatch, and a voice that made my pulse race faster than any treadmill ever could.
One look, one touch, and suddenly all those “Divorced Divas Club” pep talks about rediscovering desire made perfect sense.
After all, who says the best workouts don’t end with a little sweat, and a lot of satisfaction?
***See Content Note***
