Baring his muscular torso, he dropped to the carpet to begin the push-ups.
From the bed, Lucinda lazily added, “Remember to count.”
Immediately she said that, he effortlessly yelled, “One. Two. Three.
As he counted, Lucinda’s exhaustion got the best of her, and she drifted off to sleep.
🎂🥳ミ💖 J͎o͎i͎n͎ ͎B͎e͎a͎r͎N͎o͎v͎e͎l͎s͎.͎C͎o͎m͎ ͎F͎o͎r͎ ͎L͎a͎t͎e͎s͎t͎ ͎U͎p͎a͎t͎e͎s͎ 💖彡
When she awoke later, she was roused by his persistent counting.
However, after twenty minutes of sleep, she felt remarkably refreshed.
Leaning against the bed’s headrest, she watched Nathan diligently doing push-ups on the carpet.
“One hundred and twelve.”
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From the way he sounded, she could tell that he was tired already.
His pants clung to him, soaked with sweat, some of which dripped onto the carpet.
Lucinda interrupted him, “Are you tired now?
He heaved a deep breath and smiled at her.
“Not really.”
She wondered why men always had to play the tough guy.
A mischievous idea suddenly crept into her mind. She slipped out of bed and wore her nightgown.
She then approached Nathan and sat cross-legged on his back.
Her entire weight pressed down on him.
After the strenuous activity from the previous night and more than 10®@ pushups, Nathan was undeniably fatigued. With Lucinda sitting atop him, he was nearing his physical limit.
Arms folded, Lucinda fixed her gaze on the back of his head.
“Keep going.”
Gritting his teeth, Nathan went on with the pushups, but he didn’t count.
Lucinda noticed that and said, “Keep counting.”
He hesitated for a while and then inquired, “How many have I done?
One hundred and twelve.