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He answers the door, and it takes him a second to notice me. He has to look down. When he sees me, a smile lights up his face, and he looks at his watch.
“I knew this day would come.” He leans against the doorway, letting his shirt rise. He makes a show of checking me out. “Midday quickie?” He winks, followed by a head tilt toward his bed. “Shirt. Off.”
I roll my eyes. “Dream on. I was actually seeing if you wanted to train with me. I could use a partner right now.”
“Oh, right,” he says as he heads back into his room, stripping his clothes off in front of me. I’m too stunned to move. He starts to put workout clothes on.Oh, thank God.“I almost forgot you aren’t just hot but deadly, too.” He walks past me.
“You’d do well to remember that,” I joke, following him down to the basement.
The gym is empty when we walk in, and I head over to the treadmill.
“I’m just gonna warm up for a bit.”
We warm up in silence. Once I’m done with the treadmill, I stretch. It feels good to move again. My muscles have been so stiff from sitting in a chair, hunched over, reading all day. Eventually, I make my way to the punching bags. Running a series of combos, I feel Dante come up behind me.
“Pull back faster when you punch, like this”—he grabs my wrist—“squeeze your abs.” We get in a few jabs. “You’re tiny. Use speed as your advantage.”
“You do remember the footage, right?” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I did, and you had a gun on you. That won’t always be the case,” he replies. “Get into the ring.” He gestures with his head.
I step in, and I’m actually excited. Dante was right, though, I’ve always been on the defense when I fight, I know my opponents will always be bigger than me, so my job is to make sure they never get their arms around me or the upper hand in any way.
“Let’s make a wager,” he says with a smirk.
He really is handsome. Tall, muscular, dark hair with hazel eyes and olive skin. There was only one dark-haired man on my mind, though.
“Go on.” I put my hands on my hips.
I had no intention of making one, but I was curious.
“If I win, you give me a kiss. If you win, I give you a kiss.” He smirks.
“And how does this benefit me?” I say, crossing my arms.
He gestures down his body as if that alone held all the answers. I roll my eyes so hard I swear they almost got stuck.
“Okay, okay. If I win, you let me take you out when we get back to New York.”
“You’re serious?” I ask.
“Deadly,” he replies, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Not a chance,” I reply.
“Scared you’re going to lose?” he goads.
“How about no wager, and we just train,” I say.
“Your loss,” he says, taking his fight stance.
We run through some drills and combinations. Dante’s actually a good trainer. I knew he could fight, but training and coaching’s a whole different ball game. I like learning from him. He hasn’t said or done anything inappropriate since I shut down his wager, much to my surprise.
I’m really into it, and he’s stopped going easy on me. We pant and sweat. This is the best I’ve felt in days. I kick him in the stomach, but he grabs my leg. I use the momentum to kick him off of me with my other leg, but we fall to the ground, grunting in pain. I let out a string of curses. So much for not being sore anymore. This’ll do it. I’m flat on my stomach, breaking Dante’s fall with my own body. Lucky for him. He lies on top of me, his stomach to my back as I practically eat the mat.
“What’s going on here?” a loud voice echoes into the room.
I don’t even have to look up to know it’s Nico. Dante crawls off of me, groaning, before lying on his back, panting. We look over at Nico in the doorway with his arms crossed. He does not look happy. His eyes are glazed over; he looks almost possessive and jealous?
