So why the hell did he back away from that kiss?
And more importantly, why wasn’t he saying anything now?
I stepped out of bed at last and downed a glass of cold water. I hadn’t slept well last night, or any night, actually, since that kiss. Enough was enough. I felt like I was done walking on eggshells, and one way or another, today was the day I would talk to Dante and get to the bottom of things. If I didn’t, it’d mean another restless night of sleep.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I changed into leggings and a sports bra, and then put on a loose t-shirt. After I spoke to him, I planned to punch some shit because that was the only thing that helped nowadays. I guess Dante had been right aboutthat.
I went to the dining room, thinking he’d be there having breakfast, but the maid told me he’d already eaten. I went to his office. Empty. His car was still in the driveway, so I knew he hadn’t left for work yet. I made my way through the library, checked out the pool, and did a whole scan of the garden before heading back in, making my way from room to room.
Where the hell was—?
And that’s when I heard the sound of grunts coming from the gym.
As I approached, I heard fists hitting leather.
I paused at the doorway, just buying time to think about what I was going to say.
And in that time, I forgot how to think because watching Dante made me lose all thought.
He pummeled a heavy bag with such force that it looked like something out of a boxing movie. Was it even possible for a man to be that beautiful? Each movement was controlled, his focus laser-sharp, and every punch sounded like music to my ears.
And then there was the sight of him. His knees bent just a bit as he kept that coiled stance, my eyes travelling down the angled muscles of his legs, stretching out below a pair of black shorts. Apart from that, he had on a white tank top that clung to his broad shoulders, damp with sweat.
I leaned against the doorframe and watched as he danced around the bag. He moved like a snake, fluid and elegant. He looked like he could kill, and not with his beauty alone.
And god,those muscles.As he worked, the tattoos seemed alive too, rippling over his muscles when he moved.
A bead of sweat traced a path down his spine. I found myself following its journey, and my mouth suddenly went dry.
His hair was slicked back with sweat, and his cheeks curved inward so tight, I could have traced the outline of his bones.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Heat pooled low in my belly, spreading outward until my skin felt tight. I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly aware of how insane this was. I’d seen attractive men before. I’d seen Dante before, for God’s sake. But something about watching him like this made it hard to remember why I’d been so angry with him.
He turned again, and this time, his eyes locked with mine as he noticed me. He grabbed the punchbag and stilled it, watching me the whole time.
“How long have you been standing there?” he asked as he grabbed the towel out of the bag by his side and wiped his face.
“Not long,” I lied, straightening up. “I was just… I thought I’d work out.”
Now that I had him right in front of me, being all civil, I suddenly went straight back into coward territory. That whole conversation I had planned in my head just went up in smoke.
“Oh,” he nods, making a move to grab his stuff. “I’ll let you have the gym then.”
No. Oh no.
There he was, trying to avoid me again. But I was done feeling like an infectious disease. Even if I wasn’t prepared to talk to him straight-up, I wasn’t above twisting his arm a little.
I squared my shoulders, determined not to let him see how much he’d affected me. “You offered to teach me the day you brought me here, and I’d like to take you up on it.”
He frowned. “Now?”
“Is that a problem?” I asked, stepping fully into the gym.
“I mean, it looks like you’ve been doing a decent job figuring it out yourself.” He cleared his throat, and I saw it bob.
The space between us felt charged, dangerous. I forced myself to look away from the way his tank top clung to his chest, landing awkwardly instead on the equipment around us.
“Sure,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Decent enough to get in some punches against a bag, but wouldn’t you want yourwife to know how to defend herself? What if someone comes after me when you’re not around?”
