Shane looked down at the hand stroking his arm.
He didn't pull Caroline in or give her the flirty reaction she clearly wanted. He wasn't some escort for hire, and he wasn't about to start selling himself to close deals — not yet. Easy things lost their value fast, and that rule hit even harder on the West Side.
He reached past her, yanked open the storage cabinet, and pulled out a yoga mat. It hit the floor with a soft slap.
"If you want to check the merchandise, show me your form first."
Caroline blinked, thrown off. She'd expected smooth charm, not this. Was he actually this dense, or just playing it cool?
"Coach… I was thinking we could sit down and talk first—"
Shane cut her off with a sharp gesture toward the mat. No smile. No explanation.
Caroline stared at him for a second, then obeyed.
She dropped to her knees and got on all fours.
Shane raised an eyebrow. "One order and you listen? Good girl."
He crouched beside her, voice turning crisp and instructional.
"To test muscle tone we activate first. Squeeze your lats. Now."
Caroline obeyed instantly. The second his fingers pressed into her back she shivered. Shane felt it. When she moved into the next pose he dropped every trace of politeness.
"Glutes, not your lower back. You're half-assing it."
Her whole body locked up — not from anger. Her breathing hitched. "S-sorry, Coach."
There it was. The West Side trophy wife who ran everything at home but secretly got off on being told what to do. Shane almost smiled.
He stood over her. "Again. And this time don't embarrass yourself."
For the next twenty minutes he ran her through brutal stretches and holds, voice getting sharper with every correction. Caroline was sweating, shaking, and clearly loving every second of it. The more he barked at her, the harder she tried.
Finally he put her in a deep arch — chest down, hips high, back dipped. The position was obscene on purpose.
Shane didn't hesitate. He planted one hand firmly on the small of her back and the top of her ass, then pressed down hard.
"Engage. Push into my hand. Deeper."
Caroline made a broken, needy sound. Her thighs trembled. "Yes — fuck — I feel it—"
"Language," Shane said coldly, pressing harder. "Keep the position. Don't you dare collapse."
She whimpered but held it, face flushed all the way down her neck, eyes glassy with something that had nothing to do with exercise.
Right as her arms started to give out, the fire door slammed open.
Karen stood there holding two cases of water, towels under one arm. Her eyes went straight to Shane's hand still gripping Caroline's ass, then to Caroline's wrecked, flushed face.
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
"Here's your fucking water, Coach."
She dropped the cases with a loud crash.
Shane straightened up slowly, patting Caroline's hip once like he was finishing a rep. "Good. We're done."
Caroline scrambled up fast, smoothing her top and trying to shove the lust back behind her PTA mask. Her legs were still shaking.
Karen saw every bit of it.
The next few minutes were pure business. They locked in the schedule for the kids' classes. Caroline kept it professional, but her eyes kept flicking to Shane with something hungry and unsatisfied.
Before she left she tried one last shot. "Since everything's settled… my husband's out of town for two weeks. You could come over for dinner. Just the two of us."
Shane didn't even blink. "Appreciate it, but Karen and I need to head back. We've got things to handle on the South Side."
He nodded once and walked out with Karen right behind him.
Caroline watched him go, biting her lip. The rejection only made the ache worse.
The drive back was dead silent.
Karen white-knuckled the steering wheel, jaw tight. Shane sat in the passenger seat, window cracked, smoking like nothing had happened.
He knew exactly what was coming. He just wasn't in the mood to play the usual game of soothing and promising.
He'd already decided — he wasn't limiting himself to one woman just to keep the peace. Karen was going to have to get used to that.
She finally spoke, voice flat and vicious.
"So… how'd her ass feel under your hand? Tighter than mine? Your little 'assessment' looked real fucking thorough."
Shane took a slow drag and didn't answer.
Let her sit with it.
He had zero intention of apologizing for doing exactly what the situation called for.