I wiped the sweat off my brow as I lay on my back. Sit-ups were never my favorite thing to do. Covering my hot face with my palms, I tried to ignore Morgan's motivational speech over the hustle and bustle of the gymnasium.

"…all about progress. You don't want to stay static, McCarthy. And most importantly—you don't want to let Hotch down," my new co-worker continued, his hands clamped down on my Nike sneakers.

"Fuck Hotch right now," I grumbled.

"I'm gonna go ahead and pretend those words never came out your mouth. Come on, McCarthy, just ten more," Morgan said. I could almost hear his smirk.

Taking a deep breath, I removed my hands from my face and crossed my arms over my chest.

"That's what I like to see. Come on, girl," Morgan gave me a dazzling smile. I would have swooned if I weren't too busy kicking myself for asking him to help me improve my shape a bit more. I'd gotten through the academy just fine, but Morgan had intensified everything.

"Ten," I counted, pulling my torso up to my knees.

"You got this, Mick," Morgan winked at me.

When I was first asked by Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner to join the Behavioral Analysis Unit after a stint with the Crisis Negotiation Unit, I was expecting a lot of things. But none of those things were falling in love.

Okay, maybe "love" isn't the right word.

I tried very hard to pretend Derek Morgan wasn't the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on. His smooth skin was the color of milk chocolate and it stretched tightly over the muscles he worked hard to cultivate. And he wasn't afraid to show them. Today he'd worn a sleeveless mesh shirt that displayed his arms in a most distracting manner.

"Five," I continued, my back returning to the mat. "I give up."

"That phrase does not exist in my vocabulary," Morgan squeezed my feet. "You're so close."

"Yet so far," I whimpered playfully. "Fine … Four."

My gray T-shirt was drenched in sweat and my brown hair was frizzing out of the braid I'd lassoed it into before the workout. Needless to say, I could not wait to take a shower.

"Two … and one. I'm proud of you, McCarthy," Morgan let go of my shoes and held his arms up to give me a double high-five. I half-heartedly returned it from my slump against the mat.

"You…are a sadist," I puffed, covering my eyes with the crook of my arm as Morgan stood up.

"Save the profiling for your first case," he said, taking my reluctant hands and lifting me to my feet.

I smirked. "As much as I hate your guts right now, I want to thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to help me out."

"Any time," Morgan winked again and clapped my shoulder blade before heading to the men's locker room.

I watched as he jogged off, knowing how unethical it would be to pursue anything more than friendship with him. I'd let myself be close to him. I'd allow myself to trust him as a coworker, a teammate, and even a friend. He was to be a stone left unturned, but I'd be damned if he didn't give me butterflies in my stomach sometimes.

I was into older men anyway.

I hope you guys will like this! Anyone who had read my previous Rossi stories before I deleted them will (hopefully) get a kick out of these. I'm going to redo them later, I promise.