Naomi Carter had spent most of her life following rules—polished nails, polite smiles, careful words.
But divorce had a strange way of stripping the shine off perfection and leaving behind raw desire.
She was done pretending.
Done playing safe.
Done being soft.
When she stepped into that private gym and met Darius King, she knew immediately—he wasn't a man you dated.
He was a man you obeyed.
Tall. Black. Built like sin with a voice that pressed against her skin harder than any hand had in years.
His sessions weren't about losing weight. They were about losing control.
About surrender. About being reshaped—body, breath, and boundaries.
He didn't need to raise his voice. A single look made her knees weak.
And when he said, *"I don't train quitters. I break them in,"*
Naomi knew—
She didn't want to be saved.
She wanted to be ruined.
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