I throw on some yoga pants, a sports bra, and a loose T-shirt. No oneeversees me like this, but I’m not about to put myself at a disadvantage by wearing a five-thousand-dollar dress to a sparring session with Ryker Vale.
He’s right; the gym is easy to find, and he’s already waiting for me when I enter, wearing loose shorts and a tank-top.
I didn’t realize just how jacked he truly is. Like he was sculpted out of solid muscle—a Greek statue come to life, only with a very nice tan.
It’s just us two. None of his men are here.
“Okay.” He smiles. “No weapons, no clawing, scratching, biting, or any of those cheap girl tactics.”
He’s really trying hard to piss me off, but I’m not going to let him get to me. Without hesitation, I lunge straight at him.
For just a brief moment, I see the shock register on his face. He wasn’t expecting me to rush him, and I manage to drive my elbow straight into his ribs before he twists out of the way.
“Dirty.” He smiles, raising his hands.
“Just how I like it,” I counter.
He dashes in, feinting a punch with his left hand. But I remember from the bar that Ryker is right-handed, so I prepare myself for the follow-up.
But it doesn’t come.
Instead, his left hand connects with my cheek, snapping my head to the side.
“Remember how that feels, princess?” he taunts. “Plenty more where that came from.”
He attacks again, but I duck and sweep his leg out from under him, sending him tumbling back onto the mat. I swear there’s a flash of admiration in his eyes as I swing my foot down at him.
He rolls quickly out of the way and vaults back to his feet. But before he can make a move, I kick him hard, right where my heel got him last night.
I hear his breath as he winces and takes a step back. We circle each other, the tension rising, both of us waiting for an opening.
Fuck it,I think, dashing in, using my speed and size to my advantage.
I act like I’m going to punch him, but just as he moves to block, I throw my whole body into him.
And hit a solid wall of man.
My legs go out from under me, and I collapse on my back. Laughing, he drops onto me, snatching me into his arms as I fight to brace my knees against his chest.
His skin is hot. Beads of sweat fall from his body and land on my face. I can taste the salt on my lips as he looks down at me triumphantly. But there’s something else in his eyes…
…something lingering, like he’s searching my soul.
“Gotcha,” he whispers, sending a shiver up my spine.
His hand finds the back of my neck, and his fingers thread through my hair, searching for a grip.
Something stirs inside—butterflies in my chest and heat pooling in my belly. For a hint of a second, my mind goes blank, like I’m lost in the blackness of space.
He moves closer, leaning in.
My eyes move to his lips as they slowly part, revealing the pink of his tongue—
Suddenly, there’s a sound from behind, and I tilt my head back as the door opens and one of his men walks in.
“Excuse me, sir. Your father would like to see you.”
The moment shatters like a glass bowl being dropped on a concrete floor.
