If I Could - B. Celeste Page 0,32
out a long breath after a few starter punches. Reece is doing the same on the one next to me, his blows a lot harder, more concise and focused than mine, like he’s thinking about each strike before he lands it.
“You and Claire seem close,” I note after about ten minutes of nothing except our hits and heavy breathing sounding between us. I stop for a moment to swipe my arm across my sweaty forehead as he keeps going.
“She’s sweet,” he tells me, giving me a quick glimpse. “They both are, her and Iverson. It was a little tough transitioning here at first, but they made it easier. They’re my Exeter family, I guess you can say.”
That makes me happy for him. “I didn’t know how much I needed this,” I admit, starting up again, focusing on one spot and directing my hits there each time. My chest feels lighter than before, my arms tired but strong, and my mind less wound.
“Sometimes we don’t know how bad we need a release until we’re almost ready to combust,” he comments, not knowing that those words go straight to my dick. The briefs I’m in get tighter as I picture my version of release, which definitely is not this kind of beating.
Clearing my throat, I murmur out an agreement, trying to void my thoughts. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t let my mind go off into fantasy world where I picture myself doing dirty things to the man next to me. Like in his classroom, bent over his desk, while I—
Nope. Not happening right now.
I have to mentally talk down my boner because it’d be real awkward if anyone saw it tenting the shorts he lent me. The last thing I need is for him to think that punching shit makes me horny. I mean, a lot of weird crap does, but not this. He doesn’t need to know that side of me.
Yet.
We go at it—and by it, I’m not talking about the semi I’m sporting still—for about half an hour before all the agitation I felt is replaced by nothing more than eased satisfaction. By the time I tell him I’m done, he lowers his own gloves, wiping at his drenched forehead. His shirt his soaked as he walks over and sets his gloves down where he found them, rolling his shoulders.
I’m about to say something when the door opens and an older man walks through, a wide smile on his face. “Claire said you were here, Champ,” he greets, looking right at Reece.
I look at him, too, brows arched and a smirk on my face as if to ask, Champ? All he does is roll his eyes and then shake hands with the white-haired man who stops in front of him. When he turns to me, he holds out the same hand and offers me an identical smile. “She said Reece brought a friend. I’m Iverson. Own the place. Hope your workout went well?”
I shake his hand, smiling back. “Lawrence, but everyone calls me Ren. Reece knew exactly what I needed today. Your gym is great. I’ll probably look into a membership before I leave.”
He squeezes my hand once before letting go, seeming pleased by my answer. “Any friend of Reece is a friend of ours. We’ll even give you a discount. You new around here?”
I confirm as much, explaining I’m from the city and get an understanding nod in return. He tells me to talk to Claire before we leave to look into the packages they offer, saying he’ll make sure she knows to give me a discounted rate that I assure him he doesn’t need to do. I’m good for the money, but he’s as stubborn as Reece made him out to be.
Iverson focuses on Reece again. “Claire has been asking about you. Said she’s been itching to make a pot roast dinner again.” His eyebrows go up the same time the corners of his mouth do, as if there’s an unspoken question in there that he doesn’t say right away. “We’d sure love it if you’d join us.” When he eyes me for a moment, he adds, “The both of you, if you’re interested.”
Reece opens his mouth, uncertainty in his eyes, and I know he’s about to turn him down. “I was just telling Reece that I’d love to meet more of the community. You know, make Exeter my home since I’ll be here for a while.”
“Are you working at the high school too?” the