“Come on, Riley. Squeeze those beautiful thighs,” Nick ordered. “I. Hate. You,” she said through gritted teeth as she powered through the last three reps. Her quads were quaking. Her hamstrings were trembling. Whatever the musculature of her outer hips was called, it was screaming at her. She was red-faced and bathed in sweat. Worst of all, she was still half-asleep. At this ungodly hour, Nick’s gym was full of glistening, awake people who were tackling free weights and machines with a grim determination. “That’s my girl,” he said, holding up a hand for a high five that she ignored. “Hey,
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