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He stood in front of the heavy bag in the corner, a loud grunt escaping him with each punch. His hands were protected by black gloves that were thicker over the knuckles but open at the ends, leaving the ends of his fingers visible. A flap of Velcro secured the gloves tightly.
Cupping Dyna’s head, Jemma rocked back and forth to keep the baby quiet as her feet remained frozen in place. She watched his muscles ripple and flex with each powerful strike.
That couldn’t be good for his just-healed ribs. She told him not to do anything stupid.
But, in reality, stupid was standing and watching him when he had no clue she was there. She couldn’t pull her eyes from him and her thoughts tumbled like clothing in a dryer.
She imagined his back and ass flexing as he pumped into her over and over. Not with his fingers, like that night in the rain, but instead, with his cock. Thick and long, sliding in and out of her.
A trickle landed in her panties. Christ, this was what he did to her.
She’d resisted for weeks. Weeks. Convincing herself that doing anything more than what they’d already done would be stupid and reckless.
She didn’t do casual.
She didn’t do casual.
Fuck.
She did not do casual.
Touching him like she wanted to would only complicate their situation. It would only make things messier when she left.
She knew that.
Unfortunately, her brain didn’t want to hear common sense.
No, her mouth wanted to taste the salt on his hot skin. Her fingers wanted to slide through the sheen of sweat on his back and chest.
She wanted to grip his ass tightly as he plunged deep inside her, to encourage him to go even faster. To make her come as intensely as he had that night weeks ago.
All she had to do was ask.
All she had to do was offer.
All she had to do was say yes.
Because he’d been waiting. Patiently. Like he knew there would come a point when she wouldn’t be able to resist anymore. She did, too, but she’d hoped to be gone before then.
However, here she stood. Watching the man she wanted but couldn’t—shouldn’t—have. Holding his child in her arms.
That child, and the reason she came to be, should be enough motive to resist.
But it wasn’t.
It wasn’t.
Everyone made mistakes.
If anything, Cage had done nothing but owned his mistake and did his best. Day after day. Night after night.
His actions impressed Jemma.
Dyna made a little noise like she was trying to call out to her father. She was staring at him just like Jemma was. She actually smiled and then cooed, her legs kicking and her arms flapping. She wanted her Daddy.
She wasn’t the only one.
Jemma finally located the radio and went to turn down the volume so Cage could hear her. As soon as she did, he spun toward her with his fists still up in the ready position. He quickly masked his surprise and dropped his hands to his side, his slick chest pumping.
“What you doin’ in here?” he asked, out of breath. He swiped his damp forearm over the beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. After grabbing a towel hanging on one of the nearby weight benches, he scrubbed it down his face and ran it haphazardly over his chest.
Jemma followed the motion, then tried to swallow.
She couldn’t.
He walked over to a banged-up minifridge in the corner, opened it and grabbed a bottle of water. Cracking open the top, he tilted the water to his lips and Jemma watched his throat undulate as he guzzled it down, a little bit of water escaping the corners of his mouth and disappearing into his short beard.
Holy hell. Stay on point, Jemma.
“You weren’t supposed to push it, Chris. You don’t want a set-back.”
“I’m fine,” he said after sucking down half the water and wiping his mouth with the towel now tossed over his shoulder. “Got goddamn weak these past few weeks not bein’ able to work out.”
“Getting clubbed for being stupid will do that to you.”
He grimaced, finished the rest of the bottle and chucked it into a nearby bucket. He ran the corner of the towel over his face again. “Why you here, Jem?”
“I needed to talk to you.”
He lifted one brow. “Couldn’t wait?”
Probably. “No.”
“What is it?” He frowned as his gaze landed on his daughter, who was now moving actively in her arms. “Dyna okay?”
“Yeah. She’s... good.” When she moved closer, Dyna grunted and made a face.
“She gotta fart?”
“No, she’s smiling.”
Both eyebrows hit the edge of the soaked bandana. “Get the fuck out.”
Jemma smiled, too. “No, she’s smiling at you. She loves her Daddy.” Her heart squeezed and flip-flopped at her own words.
“Too sweaty to hold her.”
“I didn’t bring her out here for you to hold her.”
“Then, why you here, Jem?” he asked again.
“First, let me check your ribs again.” She looked around and found a couple of what looked like clean towels piled on a weight bench. She grabbed them, spread them out on the floor and set a happy Dyna down on her back. She gave the baby a couple coos and feet wiggles before straightening and when she did, Cage was right behind her, his scorching body heat rolling off him in almost visible waves.
