They arrived at the Leg Curl machine.
"Lie facedown on this pad," Jonathan instructed. His voice remained firm and professional, yet the corner of his eye never left the stalker in the distance.
Zee complied immediately, lying facedown on the machine's pad.
"Is that person still following us?" Zee whispered into the mat.
"Yes," Jonathan answered. "He's also shifting to a closer angle."
Suddenly, Jonathan's warm palm landed, pressing gently against Zee's buttocks. "Align yourself with the pad, don't lift," Jonathan said, his tone purely instructional.
Good god, what is this now?! Zee's internal protest exploded. Why press my butt? 'That' area of mine is at its most sensitive! The sensation, a mix of passion, anger, and shame, made it difficult for Zee to breathe under Jonathan's pressure.
Unexpectedly, a long sigh of lifted burdens escaped Celine's lips. "Thank God," she whispered faintly, her shoulders, which had been rigid, finally slumping against the headboard.
