punching and punching, a walking advertisement for sports and sex, his every muscle hot and engaged, powerfully striking. He swings his fists so fast, the ball never stops flapping.
He’s sans T-shirt, and I can see all his muscles as they contract and relax. The sweatpants ride low on his hips, gifting me with a peek at his sexy star tattoo—god, it just drives me crazy. I start thinking about the way his erection somehow rises to tease it, his cock so tall it covers the ink when it’s fully standing, and the memory pierces through me and heats me up in more ways than I’d like to be heated up right now. Aware that my nipples are beading with want, I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment.
Exhaling, I force myself to slide and stretch my legs out on the mat, first one and then the other, and once again.
Coach snarls, “You training or ogling today, Tate?”
Snapping my head back, I see Remy turn back to his bag, take position, lift his gloves, and slam so viciously hard that’s it’s the only thing I can hear in the gym. His punches.
“That’s what I’m talking about! Who’s that motherfucker you’re killing?” Coach demands.
My skin tingles when Remington’s voice explodes across the room as he yells back, “You know damn well who it is!”
“Who’s that fucker you’re going to send into a fucking coma?” Coach continues.
“He’s fucking DEAD!”
“That’s right! He took what belongs to you! Messed with you! Messed with your girl . . .”
Remington roars hard and he hits the bag, sending it crashing to the ground. He kicks it, and it launches into the air before it collides with the wall with a
boom
!
Riley chuckles as he comes over. “Would you say he’s a tad pissed, B?” he teases me.
My stomach tangles when Remington looks up and straight at me. His chest jerks on each breath, his eyes bore into me, and I feel a little bit naked under that stare. I’d bet my life on the fact that, right now, Remington is fucking me in his head.
“In two more weeks Scorpion fights the same evenings we do. We could bump into him. You nervous?” Riley asks, briefly surveying the gymnasts as he talks to me.
Just the name Scorpion spikes my adrenaline and makes me want to run to the hills. I drop my face and do a pigeon yoga pose to open up my hips, then I switch legs and repeat the exercise. “Yeah, I’m nervous. I should say extra nervous, since I’m nervous every fight, but with that asshole around, let’s make it ten times my normal nervous.” I roll my eyes at myself, and Riley chuckles.
We’ve seemed to “make peace” by strategically avoiding talking about “it,” even though I am actually dying to ask him and Pete what
exactly
went on. But do I want to know any more?
No.
We were broken up. I have no right. He doesn’t even remember, with his bipolar disorder, and it’s gone. It’s
over.
I am his and he is mine.
“Heck, even I’m nervous, B. Scorpion’s message was pretty clear,” Riley tells me with a smirk. “It’s
on
—out of the ring, and in it. And Rem’s message only told the bastard his days are numbered. Nobody messes with his firecracker.”
I straighten up at that; then I look at those sad surfer eyes, and I swear there’s some enjoyment in there. I laugh. I just laugh. Because, honestly, these are full-grown men here. Men. But they are still . . . boys. And when I look across the impressive gymnasium at Remy, he’s the biggest, sexiest, and strongest boy of all.
“Riley, you need to help me make sure that whatever happens, Scorpion does not mess with Remington’s head. Both you and Pete need to watch out for that too. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, saluting like an army cadet. “Now go earn your keep.”
“Ha-ha. I work just as hard as you do,” I say.
“Yeah, but I don’t get the royal treatment
you
do.”
“Because you suck, and I rule.”
“I’m not even going to answer that. I value my face too much.” He smiles at
He’s sans T-shirt, and I can see all his muscles as they contract and relax. The sweatpants ride low on his hips, gifting me with a peek at his sexy star tattoo—god, it just drives me crazy. I start thinking about the way his erection somehow rises to tease it, his cock so tall it covers the ink when it’s fully standing, and the memory pierces through me and heats me up in more ways than I’d like to be heated up right now. Aware that my nipples are beading with want, I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment.
Exhaling, I force myself to slide and stretch my legs out on the mat, first one and then the other, and once again.
Coach snarls, “You training or ogling today, Tate?”
Snapping my head back, I see Remy turn back to his bag, take position, lift his gloves, and slam so viciously hard that’s it’s the only thing I can hear in the gym. His punches.
“That’s what I’m talking about! Who’s that motherfucker you’re killing?” Coach demands.
My skin tingles when Remington’s voice explodes across the room as he yells back, “You know damn well who it is!”
“Who’s that fucker you’re going to send into a fucking coma?” Coach continues.
“He’s fucking DEAD!”
“That’s right! He took what belongs to you! Messed with you! Messed with your girl . . .”
Remington roars hard and he hits the bag, sending it crashing to the ground. He kicks it, and it launches into the air before it collides with the wall with a
boom
!
Riley chuckles as he comes over. “Would you say he’s a tad pissed, B?” he teases me.
My stomach tangles when Remington looks up and straight at me. His chest jerks on each breath, his eyes bore into me, and I feel a little bit naked under that stare. I’d bet my life on the fact that, right now, Remington is fucking me in his head.
“In two more weeks Scorpion fights the same evenings we do. We could bump into him. You nervous?” Riley asks, briefly surveying the gymnasts as he talks to me.
Just the name Scorpion spikes my adrenaline and makes me want to run to the hills. I drop my face and do a pigeon yoga pose to open up my hips, then I switch legs and repeat the exercise. “Yeah, I’m nervous. I should say extra nervous, since I’m nervous every fight, but with that asshole around, let’s make it ten times my normal nervous.” I roll my eyes at myself, and Riley chuckles.
We’ve seemed to “make peace” by strategically avoiding talking about “it,” even though I am actually dying to ask him and Pete what
exactly
went on. But do I want to know any more?
No.
We were broken up. I have no right. He doesn’t even remember, with his bipolar disorder, and it’s gone. It’s
over.
I am his and he is mine.
“Heck, even I’m nervous, B. Scorpion’s message was pretty clear,” Riley tells me with a smirk. “It’s
on
—out of the ring, and in it. And Rem’s message only told the bastard his days are numbered. Nobody messes with his firecracker.”
I straighten up at that; then I look at those sad surfer eyes, and I swear there’s some enjoyment in there. I laugh. I just laugh. Because, honestly, these are full-grown men here. Men. But they are still . . . boys. And when I look across the impressive gymnasium at Remy, he’s the biggest, sexiest, and strongest boy of all.
“Riley, you need to help me make sure that whatever happens, Scorpion does not mess with Remington’s head. Both you and Pete need to watch out for that too. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, saluting like an army cadet. “Now go earn your keep.”
“Ha-ha. I work just as hard as you do,” I say.
“Yeah, but I don’t get the royal treatment
you
do.”
“Because you suck, and I rule.”
“I’m not even going to answer that. I value my face too much.” He smiles at
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