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Chapter Twenty-Four
RORY
Idon’t eat the pizza he left, my nerves are too wound up for that. Not to mention the desire curling through me. His touch, the way he tasted…his words. Fuck, it drove me wild. I wanted to fight him, to prove him wrong, but how could I when I could smell my own arousal? Feel it dripping down my thighs…and he barely touched me. What will happen when he does?
If it does…
I could get myself off now and sleep well, but a nagging thought tells me he would know. So I suffer through my own blue balls as I toss and turn in bed, annoying Mischief so much, he sleeps on the sofa. The sheets are twisted around my legs, my body is damp from sweat, and my lips are curled in annoyance. At them, at him…at me.
It was barely a kiss, a whisper of his lips across mine. He hardly fucking touched me, and I’ve seen better abs. Okay, it might have been in magazines and pornos, but still.Get it together, Rory. But another hour passes, and I still can’t sleep. The lights of the city shine through the windows, almost mocking me. Giving up, I rip back my covers and get out of bed, storming around in annoyance, but as I pass the wardrobe, something catches my eye.
Workout gear.
I love running and walking. Though I’ve never been able to afford to go to a gym, I do find that losing myself in the burn and stretch of my muscles makes me feel better. Plus, if I push myself to the point of exhaustion, all thoughts of the Dixen brothers, especially that flirty bastard, will leave and I will be able to sleep…right?
Decision made, I slip out of my pajamas and into some skintight three-quarter leggings and a sports bra, which fits perfectly, and that’s hard when you have big tits. Even I know that. I tried to buy one once, and I swear I got a black eye while I was running from my breasts bouncing against my face. It had no impact control in it whatsoever. This one is basically a bra with straps I can tighten to my desired fit. I bounce on the spot, and my girls don’t even move. It’s amazing. I slip my arms into a hoodie, then put on some running socks and shoes as well, which are all remarkably my size.
Usually, I have to run in old pants full of holes, but not this time. I can already feel the stretch of the fabric as I walk, and excitement curls in my belly at being able to work out properly. I might as well get the most out of these bastards while I’m here. Alistair mentioned a gym when I first moved in, so it has to be somewhere in the building. I’m not going to ask for their help, I’m just going to find it. Fuck them and their stupid abs and sexy faces.
I zip the sweatshirt up to just under my bra, and after kissing a snoring Mischief goodbye, I grab a bottle of water and slip out. Once in the hallway, I debate my options. I’m betting the gym isn’t on this floor. Knowing them, they would want it as close to them as possible but far enough away so they can have some space, and in Alistair’s case, show off his abs. I head to the elevator, and using my card, I press the one button above my floor.
The Dixen brothers’ floor.
Here’s hoping I don’t run in to any of them. The way I’m feeling, I may jump them or punch them. Either would be fun.
The elevator stops on the floor above and opens. There are giant double doors across the small hallway—I’m guessing the doors to their apartment. The white walls run to the left and right, and I look farther down, but there aren’t any other doors. Fuck, tell me it’s not in their apartment? Picking a random direction, which happens to be left, I start to walk, hoping there is another door or maybe even a sign that says “Gym” in big bold letters. I spot the cameras in the corners and wonder if someone is watching me. The thought makes me shiver as I wander down the hallway.
Just as I’m about to give up, I see another door, the only other door, right at the end of the hallway. It’s black like the apartment doors and has a long silver handle. There’s no sign on it, but the closer I get, the more I can almost smell the sweat. So, opening it timidly, I peek in and sigh in relief. Thank fuck it’s the gym, not some weird sex room.
I push inside before freezing, and my mouth drops open as I look around. Firstly, the music slams into me, making my heart pulse to the sound of the beat. I didn’t even hear it outside, but standing here now, I wonder how I didn’t because it’s loud as fuck. It’s rock for sure, a band I haven’t heard before, but the sound of the guitar and drums has a smile curling my lips as I drag my eyes over the rows and rows of equipment. It looks like a five-star gym you’d see in TV commercials. It has everything, and I don’t even know the name for most of it.
There are bikes, treadmills, a leg press, rowing machines, an entire free weight section, and, well, others that look like some kinky sex contraptions. Not to mention the mats with ropes which hang down from the ceiling, and the rows of weights in front of full-length mirrors on the right wall. I can see an upstairs as well, with a silver railing running around the entire perimeter, making me wonder if there is a running track up there. At the back is a set of steps leading up to a small area, though I can’t see what it is from here. There’s also another unlabeled door next to the one I’m standing in.
But that isn’t what has me frozen on the spot—I’m not alone.
No, Maddox is here next to the weights on my right. He’s moving around a punching bag, his hands are wrapped up, and his face is set with determination. His eyes narrow on the bag like it has personally offended him, and he uppercuts it and jabs before bringing up his knee.
Me? I stand here drooling, because the man is half naked. And what a man he is. Under all those suits is pure power, like a goddamn feral beast. His chest is huge and defined, even more than Alistair’s, with an eight pack and huge pecs. A metal bar pierces one of his nipples, making me swallow hard. His thick, wide arms bunch as he jabs, his long, muscular legs moving swiftly around the bag as he bounces on bare feet. His skin glistens with sweat as he grunts and attacks the bag.
He even has one of those Vs leading down to his black, low riding mesh shorts, and oh, did I mention the tattoos? I guess it doesn’t surprise me he has them, but I never saw them peek from under his suit. I try to make out as many as I can as he moves, my gaze roaming over his skin greedily. He has a revolver pointed toward his cock, just above the left line of his Adonis belt, with calligraphy underneath that I can’t make out. He has a crown tattooed across his right ribs with a skull below. His whole right arm up to his wrist is covered as well, a full sleeve. I spot roses, skulls, wings, and more writing. As he turns, I see the one covering some of his thigh. It looks like his skin is ripped and bleeding metal.
Fuck. It’s so hot. I love tats, and seeing them on this monster? This beast? My pussy clenches. Drips. I want to trace my tongue across every single fucking one.
Watching him going from business to this? It’s doing things to me, bad things. I always knew Maddox was a force to be reckoned with, but viewing all that power, that deadly anger, and nearly naked body?
I’m weak and wet as hell.
He drops his hands and turns before grabbing a towel and wiping his face. His black hair is slicked back, and when he drops the towel, those piercing, dark feral eyes lock on me. I feel my own widen, and my heart stops from that one look. Electricity arcs between us as he runs his eyes down my body before grunting and returning to hitting the bag, releasing me from his gaze and making me sag where I stand. I debate running away, but that’s not my style, so I step inside, letting the door shut behind me. I know he hears it, but he ignores me.
Fine, he wants to be like this? All intense and demanding at work and hard as ice now? I’m going to show him that he may be hot, powerful, and rich, but it takes more than that to make me fall to my knees. I’m a street girl through and through. An expensive car and fancy clothes can’t change that.
Unzipping my hoodie, I shrug it off and throw it onto the handles of one of the bikes as I uncap my water and take a sip. I see his eyes flicker to the mirror, meeting mine in the reflection, and with a smirk, I saunter across the gym, knowing my ass looks really good in these clothes, not to mention my tits. His eyes narrow, dragging across my exposed skin until I can almost feel his touch. Turning away before he sees me panting like a dog, I eye the weights. I know the basics, but these are those long, weight lifting ones…barbells I think they are called. As I move, I can feel him watching me, but I refuse to ask for help or look weak as I step onto the mat.
Bending over, I grip the bar and start to lift when I hear him grunt and head my way. He stops behind me, and I flick my gaze up to meet his in the mirror as I suck in a shallow breath and stay bent over slightly.
“You’re doing it wrong,” he snarls, his deadly voice making me shiver.
“Yeah? Then show me,” I dare him and grin.
