Page 60 of Pistols & Peonies

“I’ve gotta grab my clothes from the locker room.”

I give her a quick once-over, automatically cataloguing her out of habit. The black sports bra and shorts she’s wearing are enforcer-issue, clearly borrowed. Her skin is slick with sweat, a smear of blood drying along her ribs that isn’t hers. She could use some cleaning up before we head back to the Tower. I probably could, too, after working up a sweat with her on the mat.

I nod and pivot smoothly, changing course and heading for the locker room.

Getting naked with her right now probably isn’t smart, given the aftermath of the match still hanging between us.

But neither is leaving things unfinished.

CHAPTER 20

Violet

Entering the locker room with Kane feels like stepping into the final round of a championship fight. The tension between us buzzes like a live wire, something still lingering unresolved despite my tap-out on the mat. It feels ominous. Dangerous. And danger has always been my favorite flavor of thrill.

He waves me in ahead of him, then stops just inside the doorway, nearly broad enough to block it completely. His posture hardens, shoulders squaring as his gaze sweeps the room, expression set to max intimidation.

Half a dozen enforcers are inside in various stages of undress– showering, changing, minding their own damn business. Kane doesn’t even have to speak to capture their attention. One by one, faces swing his way, eyes widening and words dying on lips mid-conversation.

“Everybody out,” he barks, the deep rumble of his voice echoing off the tile walls.

Nobody challenges him– not even the pair of meatheads from the upper ranks who look like they’d rather chew glass than follow someone else’s command. Every last person instantly drops whatever they’re doing and hustles for the exit, proof of how fast authority works around here.

Too bad Kane’s orders never have the same effect on me.

This must be why I get under his skin– because he’s clearly accustomed to people just doing whatever he says without question. And as ridiculous as it is, I’ve gotta admit… it’s impressive to witness firsthand.

I stand there watching the mindless soldiers scramble to leave with no small amount of satisfaction. Kane doesn’t seem to take the same pleasure in it as he steps aside to clear the doorway. For him, this was just another task, handled efficiently.

He waits until the last person clears the room, then calmly reaches over and flips the deadbolt on the door, ensuring privacy with a single click.

“Go get cleaned up,” he grumbles, nodding toward the showers.

I fold my arms with a scoff, planting my feet. I’m not one of his soldiers, and he doesn’t get to bark orders at me like I am.

His dark-eyed gaze drags over me, slow and assessing. Then he heaves a sigh, like I’m an impossible equation he’s exhausted himself trying to solve.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters.

Kane turns and stalks toward the showers, reaching over his shoulder to peel his t-shirt off one-handed.

My pulse spikes.

That move should be illegal for men with bodies like his. Every muscle in his back is mapped out like a fucking anatomy illustration, rippling beneath tan, sweat-slicked skin. My mouth waters at the sight, fingers twitching with the urge to touch him. He folds his shirt with military precision and sets it on the bench near the showers, then kicks off his boots and drops his pants.

I try to keep my eyes up, but it’s a losing battle. They zero in on his ass as goes about folding his slacks on the bench and lining up his boots beside them, keeping everything neat and tidy. He’s fully naked in under a minute, and I’m still frozen by the door, staring like an idiot and hating myself for it.

He pivots toward the showers, and a surge of illicit heat shoots straight to my core, my body reacting before my mind can catch up. His cock is just as impressive as I remember– long, thick, and hard enough that it’s bobbing as he stalks across the room. There aren’t any stalls or partitions, just a line of industrial spouts set into sleek tile. He cranks one of them on, stepping back and waiting for steam to rise before moving underneath the spray.

I like to pretend I’m immune to this kind of shit, but there’s no denying the effect Kane has on me. My pulse hammers in my throat, heat creeping up my neck as I watch the water beat off his powerful shoulders and track down the carved lines of his abdomen. He starts soaping up a washcloth, going about his business, not even bothering to look over to see if I’ll join him.

He doesn’t have to.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, and it’s working, dammit.

I finally cave– only because it seems silly just standing here watching him shower while still covered in sweat and grime.

It takes me all of two seconds to strip off the enforcer attire, toss it onto the floor, and cross the room. My bare feet slap against the tile as I approach the showers, choosing the one right next to Kane’s out of sheer spite. The proximity feels like a dare, but I never back down from those.