The Gentle Dom Read online

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Excerpt

  More from Sean Michael

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  Copyright

  The Gentle Dom

  By Sean Michael

  An Iron Eagle Gym Novel

  When one of their own is threatened, the men of the Iron Eagle Gym will stand together and prove they are stronger as a family.

  Stuntman Barclay Drambor suspects his fall from a roof was no accident. He believes his abusive ex was responsible, but he can’t prove it. Fortunately, a year has gone by with no word from Duncan, letting Barclay move on with his life—and that means dealing with the aftermath of his injuries. He finds personal trainer Reece “Rec” Gordon through a member of the gym, and it’s not long before their workouts together become much more intimate. Rec is gentle and goes out of his way to make Barclay comfortable, and in no time there’s talk of moving in together….

  But just as Barclay is healing and finding a place to belong, Duncan returns to destroy his happiness. Though Duncan will learn he’s messing with the wrong group of men, in the end, Barclay must face him. Will Rec’s love and the friendship of the others at the gym give him the confidence to stand up for himself?

  Chapter One

  BARCLAY WHEELED up to the doors of the Iron Eagle gym for his PT appointment and tried not to sigh.

  He could do this. He so could. This was him. Doing it.

  Blah.

  At least they had wheelchair access and the doors into the gym itself from the lobby were good and wide.

  A young man with long dark hair and a striking face was mopping the floor. “Oh! Careful. The floor is damp. Stay left and you should be okay.”

  “Thanks. I have an appointment with a Reece?”

  “I’ll tell the front desk.” The man went over to the desk. There were two guys, one quite young, behind it, and a tall, stacked guy standing in front of it. That was who looked over, then smiled and waved and came toward him.

  You can do this. You got this. This is how you heal.

  As the man approached, Barclay could see that he wasn’t quite as musclebound as he’d first thought. They were great muscles, though. Which you wanted in a personal trainer, right?

  This guy had curly brown hair and bright smile that lit up his face. He moved well too, limbs loose and easy. Barclay imagined the man would do well at parkour; he walked like he had great body control.

  “Hey there. You must be Barclay Drambor.”

  “I am. Hey. Nice to meet you!” He raised one hand in greeting.

  “Reece Gordon. But you can call me Rec. You’re several minutes early for your appointment. I like that. Shows that you’re serious.” Rec stood like he felt easy in his skin.

  Barclay used to stand like that. When he was standing, that was. He had always liked to be on the move. Fucking chair made that a little hard right now.

  “I wasn’t sure exactly where I was going.” He hated being late, and if he was headed somewhere new, he’d give himself more time than the GPS claimed he needed.

  “You didn’t have any trouble finding us, though, right?” Rec continued when Barclay shook his head. “Cool. Let’s go into the gym, you can see what the setup is, and then I’ll do an interview with you—find out where you are in your recovery, what your goals are, how much time you have to put into it, that kind of thing.”

  “Fair enough. Lead the way.” He wanted to get started so he could have that done. It would be easier to keep going than it was to have wheeled in here in the first place.

  “You got it.” Rec headed to the double doors across the front lobby, hitting the button to open them automatically. “You should be able to make your way around the first floor without any problems. And there are showers on this floor.”

  “Good deal.” He’d shower at home where he felt safe, but it was good to know it was possible to do it here.

  “So as you can see, we have a large variety of equipment. We’ve got freestanding weights as well as the various machines for muscle targeting, and you’ll be able to work out every part of your body, even from the chair. There are tons of cardio options as well, including the hand bikes, so you’ll be able to get moving there right away too.” Rec sat on one of the equipment benches and opened his iPad. “Okay. Let’s talk turkey.”

  “I’m cleared to work out. I broke three vertebrae, but my spinal cord is intact. I broke my left arm in three places, my right leg, and my hip.” He rattled his injuries off emotionlessly, like they were someone else’s. “I’m ready to get out of the chair.”

  “Damn, that’s impressive. Do you mind if I ask how it happened?” Rec’s eyes were hazel—the kind that were almost light brown but for a few flecks of green in them—and they weren’t judgy or full of pity.

  “I was doing some stunt work and fell off a building. I fell four stories.” Fell. Was pushed. Whatever. Rec didn’t need to know his theory on that.

  “Oh man. I take it you’re lucky to be alive, eh?” Rec shook his head.

  Yeah, except just alive wasn’t anywhere near enough. “That’s the rumor. I intend to be back to work.” Maybe not soon, but someday.

  “Good for you. I’m glad you chose me to help you get there. So what kind of time are you looking at dedicating to this?” Rec pulled up a scheduling app.

  “I’m not working right now, and I have some savings. I’m shooting for Monday, Wednesday, Friday.” He could do cardio in between just wheeling himself around the block a few times. The chair was surprisingly hard work. He could have gotten one of the fancy electric ones, but that would have been significantly more expensive. Besides, the self-propelled variety were a better workout. That’s what he told himself anyway.

  “Sounds good. For a half hour to begin with?” Rec suggested. “We can work up from there, add in some cardio in between as you grow stronger.”

  “Let’s do an hour. I can handle it.” A half hour three times a week was not going to give him the results he wanted.

  “How about we start with a half hour for the first week, and we can talk about turning it into an hour the next week?” Rec countered.

  “Fair enough.” Barclay needed to get back on the horse, start riding.

  “It’s good that you’re eager, and I understand wanting to put in a lot of work, but if you go at it too hard right off the bat, you risk hurting yourself or aching so badly you don’t want to come back.” Rec’s eyes were kind and his voice deep, even.

  He still didn’t see any pity there, but he straightened his spine and raised his chin all the same. “I’m not a pussy. I can take it.”

  “There’s nothing weak about taking things slowly and giving your body time to heal, time to get used to redoing things.” Rec laid a hand on his leg. “Trust me. I’m on your side.”

  “Thanks. I’m just… I’m ready. I need to get back to normal.” He needed this more than anything. It wasn’t only a need to be doing better physically—he needed to be able to move.

  “I hear you. Pushing too hard, too fast can actually set you back, though. Okay? All right. Are you ready to start now? We can run through the machines we’re going to use, see what weights you’re good to start at, that kind of thing.”

  “Yeah. I’m ready. Let’s do this.” He grabb
ed his weight gloves out of his pocket, telling himself he wasn’t worried.

  “All right. You’re going to do great.” Rec stood and led him over to a machine with a bar currently above his head. “Let’s start with ten pounds and see how you do.” Rec set the pin to ten pounds and brought the bar down for him. “From your shoulder to your waist.”

  This should be imminently doable. Barclay got himself in and out of the chair before he could use his legs at all, right?

  They got up to forty pounds before Rec stopped him and put it back down to twenty-five. “Okay, I know you want to actually start, so ten reps, rest for thirty seconds, then ten more.”

  Barclay worked doggedly, refusing to let up, forcing himself to work, to get stronger.

  They went through a number of machines, focusing on his arms and torso, back and core before they got to the ones where he’d have to move out of the chair.

  He set his brake, his arms shaking hard. “Let me get my crutches.”

  He pulled out the arm crutches and unfolded them.

  “Hold on.” Rec put a hand on his arm and shook his head. “I think you’ve done enough for today. Next time we’ll start with your legs so your arms aren’t tired.”

  “You sure? I can do it.” He totally fucking could, dammit.

  “I’m sure you can. But I’m also sure it’ll be a better experience for you if we wait to do your legs next time. You did great here today. I know you think it wasn’t much, but it was a lot. And we’re already at the half-hour mark.”

  “Okay.” Okay, he guessed it was time to catch a bus and go home. “I’ll be back Wednesday, ready to work.”

  “You need any help with the showers?” Rec asked as they headed toward the locker room.

  “I’ll just…. It’s gonna be slick. I’ll take care of it at home.” He didn’t want to fall again.

  “I’m happy to help—no judgment or shame. And there’s a wheelchair-accessible stall. If you want—it’s entirely up to you.” Rec held the door open for him.

  “Thanks.” He wheeled himself through. “I can probably manage, thanks.”

  “Probably?” One of Rec’s eyebrows went up.

  That made him laugh and feel a bit better. “I can totally manage on my own.” Especially as he wasn’t actually showering.

  “Okay, cool. I’ll see you on Wednesday.” Rec squeezed his shoulder and headed out, leaving him alone in the locker room.

  He sat there until someone else came in, then wheeled himself out and headed for the bus stop. His muscles were tired, but pushing through all the shit had gotten him this far and he’d be damned if he stopped now.

  REC GOT up early on Wednesday morning and went in to put in an hour of weights before his first client. Today was his busy day. He had Allen at nine for an hour and a half. Allen was training for a marathon, and they were building up his endurance. Then he had the new guy—Barclay—at eleven. He was legs today. Figuring out what he could do. Rec suspected today would be harder than their first session because the guy wasn’t going to be able to work his lower body muscles as hard as he’d worked his torso and upper body the other day. After that Rec had to head out to the Goodlife Fitness down the road and run three different group classes, and then he had a last client session at eight tonight. Thank goodness they weren’t all Wednesdays.

  He took a quick shower up on the Doms’ floor after his workout and ran into Tyrone in the locker room as he was getting dressed. They exchanged pleasantries and Tyrone seemed to have a few moments, so he decided it was as good a time as any to bring up a proposal he’d been thinking of.

  “I wanted to talk to you about maybe putting together some classes.” He’d signed on to do the Goodlife ones because he had the time and they were decent money, but he thought that some courses would make a great addition to Iron Eagle’s repertoire.

  “Classes, eh?” Tyrone leaned against a set of lockers. “What sort of classes?”

  “Well, we could do all sorts, depending on what the clientele is looking for. Cardio dance, cardio step, muscle building, stretching. I bet with the obstacle training course out back, you could do a ninja warrior course or two. I think folks would eat that up. You could run a survey to figure out interest.”

  “That’s an interesting idea. I’ll suggest it. In the end, it’ll come down to what the boss wants, but I’ll definitely bring it up. I take it you’re interested in teaching if we do put some together?”

  Rec nodded. “Oh yeah. I’d love to.”

  “And you’ve got some experience with what the routines might look like with these kinds of courses.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been doing a few down the road for about six months now.” And anything he didn’t know, he could totally do research on. Like the ninja warrior course.

  “Okay. If you get tagged for actually putting together the courses and setting up the schedules and stuff, it’s your own fault.” Tyrone gave him a wink.

  That had him chuckling. “Gotcha. I hate to propose and run, but I’ve got to go—I’ve got a client.”

  Tyrone waved him off and started stripping out of his street clothes.

  Rec pushed Allen hard for an hour and a half, pleased with the progress the guy was making, then did some paperwork as he waited for Barclay to show. He was looking forward to this session, to seeing where Barclay was at with his legs. He knew this was where the real work would be.

  The man was a little early again, and that pleased Rec. He liked punctuality and dedication. He liked not having his time wasted, and being on time or early meant he was being respected.

  Going over to Barclay, he shook his hand and led the way into the gym. “So how are you feeling? Were you very sore after Monday’s session? Any residual soreness?”

  “I’m good.”

  Rec had a feeling that would have been Barclay’s answer no matter what the truth was. He’d have to watch and make sure the guy didn’t push himself too far. It really would be more of a hindrance than a help. The trick was figuring out where the line lay between working hard and pushing too far.

  “You have a good day yesterday?” he asked.

  Barclay shrugged. “It was a day. I just want to get back to my old self again.”

  “You’ll get there, I swear. I know these first few weeks are going to feel like you’re moving slower than a snail’s pace, but they’re the foundation for everything else.” Dedication and desire would take Barclay far.

  “Sure. Yeah.” Barclay wore sweats and a T-shirt, the bottoms loose, covering up Barclay’s musculature.

  Rec already knew that the guy’s upper-body muscles were actually pretty good, if a little rusty. They could fix that easily. He suspected Barclay might be doing a bit of free-weight work on his arms at home, and God knew wheeling the chair around could build up more than a little muscle. But Rec had no idea how much work Barclay’s legs were going to take until they put in some time.

  Rec stopped at the first machine. “Okay. We’ll start with your hamstrings.”

  Barclay grunted and grabbed his crutches. Rec stepped back, knowing his help would not be appreciated. Barclay was clearly determined—and stubborn—and he got himself to the machine. Rec started with five pounds and worked slowly up before cutting the weight back and getting Barclay to do his first rep.

  He explained which muscle group each machine worked as they moved through them, though he suspected that Barclay didn’t need the lessons. Still, it filled the silence, and Barclay didn’t tell him to stop.

  Barclay’s left leg was much stronger than his right, which, given his injuries, made total sense. Rec made a few notes so he could tailor Barclay’s future workouts. He’d put together a set routine for Friday, and once Barclay had run that, he’d know where to tweak it.

  By the time the half hour was up, Barclay was clearly done. He nearly fell moving back from the last piece of equipment to his chair. Rec wasn’t surprised, and he didn’t make a big deal out of it.

  He did call a stop to the workout. �
�Okay, that’s our half hour. You did a great job today. It’s the first time you’ve worked those muscles in a long time, and your right side has to relearn everything. I’m really pleased with how much you pushed today.”

  Barclay snorted, looking less than impressed.

  “It’s the first time you’ve worked out your right side since the injury,” Rec repeated. “Trust me, you’re doing great. I can see that the muscle you’re going to be working out the most is your patience.”

  Barclay actually laughed at the joke, looking almost surprised at himself. Rec clapped him on the back.

  “Did you need help getting to the locker room or dealing with the shower?” He liked to be early for his classes at the Goodlife, but he certainly had time to give a helping hand if it was needed.

  Barclay refused, just as he’d done on Monday. Rec did make sure he made it to the locker room okay. He didn’t offer to push the chair there—he was pretty sure his offer would be refused and Barclay would be affronted.

  “I’ll see you on Friday, then.”

  “I’ll be here,” Barclay assured him.

  “Good. I’ve got to get going so I’ll leave you to it.” He gave Barclay’s shoulder a squeeze. There was something about Barclay that drew him in, made him want to get to know the guy better, to get more than a few words out of him.

  He’s a client, Rec reminded himself as he headed out. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Barclay needed him as more than just a personal trainer.

  BARCLAY ARRIVED at the gym, raring to go despite his right leg still feeling a little sore from Wednesday’s workout. Rec had obviously put together a routine based on what they did Monday and Wednesday, because he knew exactly what machines and how many reps of each he wanted Barclay to do.

  Barclay worked for nearly an hour too, not backing down when Rec kept moving from machine to machine, even when he started to feel shaky. If the last few machines hadn’t been accessible from his wheelchair, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to make the trip from his wheelchair to the apparatus.