Foreman was sure he'd meant to add 'together' to the end of his question, but he was distracted the second Amber bent over in her yoga pants. Damn. His first instinct was to step across the tiny distance that separated them so that they'd be snug up against each other the second she stood up. His palms itched to cup her ass, so perfectly outlined in the skin-tight material. Yeah, he was definitely starting to feel better.

He'd just finished tying his own shoes--eyes peeled for another look at her, so that he had to retie the right lace twice--when Amber walked by him to put her bag away. It was nearly reflex, the way he turned to follow her, stay within range of the warm aura of her body. He stepped up behind her, with his bag, and tossed it into the locker on top of hers, being as casual as possible about cornering her against the row of lockers as he did so. She could escape around him, sure, but maybe she wouldn't want to?

That was such a better question to be thinking about than whose family they'd be stuck with for Thanksgiving. Foreman pocketed the key after clanging the locker shut, the swipe card for the change room going with it. He was ready, and his heart was already pumping fast enough to count for his cardio workout. "Ready?" he asked, voice low, not bothering to make it sound like he was talking about the workout at all.