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The house is quiet as I slip into the hall. I’m yet to have the full tour, but I figure there are only so many places he can be hiding.
Tiptoeing downstairs, I listen for any signs of life. A gentle thud thud thud catches my attention, and I follow it toward the back of the house to the basement door. Gently opening it, I creep down the stairs, only to be met with the familiar grunts of Conner.
He’s in the middle of the room, beating the shit out of a punching bag. Sweat glistens over his hard abs and ripped muscles with every punch. Black shorts hang low on his hips, drawing my eyes to that delicious V on either side. God, he’s beautiful.
My beautiful, broken boy.
I sit down on the step and watch him, not alerting him to my presence. He jabs the bag hard, in a quick combination of punches. One two. One two. One one two. He ducks and dodges, staying light on his feet. I’ve forgotten how good he is at this. How natural he makes it look.
I’m so lost in his body moving and twisting, the way the layer of sweat shimmers on his tanned skin, that the bloodcurdling roar he lets out startles me.
Pain hangs in the air. He’s hurting... and it’s all my fault.
“I know you’re there, K.” His head hangs low, refusing to look at me. “I felt you the second you opened the door.”
“You did not.”
“Did too.” He finally turns, giving me his eyes. “You should be asleep.”
“I woke up and you weren’t there.”
“I just needed to burn off some steam.” He gives me a half-shrug.
I get up and approach him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, I fucking don’t.”
“Conner, come on... it’s me. I know I should have told you—”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything, K. That’s the shitty thing. I want to be mad at you for not telling me, but it changes nothing. That fucker still...” He swallows the words.
“Tell me what I can do?” Because seeing him like this, lost and afraid and angry, is almost too much to bear.
“There’s nothing, Kennedy. I just have to figure this out on my own.”
Pain lashes my insides. He’s going to shut me out again. Well, fuck that.
And fuck him.
Without warning, I throw my arms around him and kiss him hard.
“What the fu—”
His words are swallowed by my tongue plunging into his mouth. Conner wants to keep me at arm’s length, but I refuse to accept that’s how it has to be.
Even if I have to keep playing dirty to show him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Conner
Her tongue sweeps into my mouth, and my shock at her move is exactly what she needs to take advantage of the situation. She walks me backward until my back hits the cool mirror behind me.
I know she's trying to understand, but every time I look at her, all I see is disappointment staring back at me. I know that she'd have wanted me to wake her and take my frustrations out on her, but I can't. So instead, I slipped out of bed not long after the sun rose and came to make use of my punching bag instead.
The tension within me dissipated with every punch I landed. My muscles began to relax every time a bolt of pain shot up my arm.
I lost myself in my movement, in the rhythmic thud of skin hitting leather over and over.
