man of means. I don’t think my father hurts for a dime, so why? Why sell me?
“Because he didn’t want you,” I mutter breathlessly as I push my body to keep moving.
I bounce on my toes before spinning to kick the heavy bag. The force of the kick rings out like thunder in the empty gym. It’s almost midnight. I’m the only one here.
I need to get my frustration out. Breaking that asshole’s arm got me suspended from combat and weapons training. The only shit that keeps me sane and distracted from thinking about shit I need to forget, including John.
I’m so fucking pissed. He’s been here and he hasn’t come to see me or say anything to me. I know I was the one to run off, but I didn’t think that meant he wouldn’t at least remain the friend he promised to be.
I need someone to talk to. Someone to listen to the turmoil that I’m holding inside and no, I don’t want to talk to their fucking shrinks. I feel like they tell the Briggs everything I say.
“Fuck them,” I huff as I throw a punch combination.
“Lift your arms.” I startle and spin defensive even as I know who the voice belongs to. If a glare could shoot fire, he’d be torched.
And still, he takes my breath away. He’s more gorgeous than I remember. Right down to the way his dark hair is spilling into his face—longer and unkept—not what I’m used to. It looks like he’s been running his hand through it or as if he has just woken from sleep or maybe a bit of both.
His long lashes somehow seem to be longer than usual as they fan out over his golden eyes. Eyes with a stare so intense, I believe he can see right through me. His nose is so perfect, well-proportioned to his full lips. Well, not overly full, but both his lower and upper are plush enough to make you want to stare and dream of them pressed against your own.
I stifle a groan as I lower my gaze down his body. The way he’s standing with his arms across his broad chest and his legs parted wide makes my belly flip and drop low. His long body exudes power. The black dress shirt that’s turned up over his elbows and black slacks that hug his thighs are like wrapping paper from an expensive high-end store. The perfect touch to perfection.
“You’re looking great,” he says, the sound of his voice rumbling through me.
I roll my eyes and turn back to the heavy bag. Yes, I know I was longing for him to be here only a moment ago, but now that he is, I can’t help the anger I feel toward him. He tossed me aside as if I were nothing. That feeling has cut deeper than I want to admit and for reasons I’m still piecing together from dreams and faded memories.
Returning to my workout, I ignore him and my body’s response to him. I wish I could forget that night and morning in his hotel room. I believe I’ve embarrassed myself in front of this man enough for a lifetime.
“I don’t get a hello?”
I stiffen from his front pressed to my back. He wraps his arms around me, preventing me from swinging at the heavy bag. I hate that his arms bring me comfort. It’s a battle not to sink back into him.
Once he places his chin on top of my head, I lose the battle. However, I don’t show him that. I remain stiff as I absorb what I haven’t realized I’ve been missing. Instead of letting him know how I feel, I lash out with my words.
“You’ve been here several times, and not once did you say hello. I’m returning the favor.”
He releases a heavy sigh before moving to bury his face in my hair and inhaling. I grimace. I’m a sweaty mess. My hair has to stink of perspiration.
I wiggle a bit, but he only tightens his hold. “I didn’t want to distract you. The first time I came I saw how focused you were. You didn’t even notice me watching you.”
“What happened to needing to talk?” I say bitterly.
I spun to face him. Bad move, my belly tightens as soon as I look into his eyes. Once he smiles, I completely lose my thought for a second.