Shade had left the shop lights on, but the door sign said Closed. I knocked, and he showed up quickly to let me in. My pulse sped up at the sight of him, making me feel slightly breathless as I stepped inside. He didn’t say anything, just opened the door and then closed it again, locking it behind me.
I turned, and our eyes met. Then I took in the rest of him. He looked hot as hell, dressed in a black T-shirt that pulled tight across his broad chest. It somehow made his eyes look lighter instead of darker. Simple, dark-gray workout sweats hung low on his lean hips. They were tied with a double knot. Just as with decoding locks, I was good at unraveling knots.
Slowly, I backed toward the counter with the register. Desire pulsed through me. Sparring sounded like fun, but really, I just wanted to rip off Shade’s clothes.
Shade prowl-walked me straight into the counter until my lower back bumped against the cool surface. He made no move to cage me, but I was definitely caught. Anticipation whipped through me. Did this mean we were skipping the training? I was perfectly fine with that.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, cupping my face in his hands. His honey eyes hit mine just long enough to make sure I was okay with a kiss before he lowered his mouth to mine.
Heat detonated inside me. I lifted my hands and held on to his sides, kissing him back in a way that said I was totally on board and wanted more, more, more. I angled my body into his, greedy for the feel of him. The kiss deepened, and I licked my tongue into his mouth. Shade groaned, the sound deep and resonating. It sank into me and tugged hard between my legs.
We both went a little wild after that. His reaction made me feel as if I might have skills, even though I’d only ever had one partner, and that was a long time ago. It was hard to remember anything about that teenage fumbling in the dark with Shade’s hands in my hair, his mouth on mine, and his big, solid body pressing me up against the counter. Shade was a man, not a boy. The feel of his erection against my lower belly set my body on fire. I wanted him inside me. I was desperate to feel him everywhere.
I slipped my hands under his shirt. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go up or down, so I just stayed there, my hands at his waistline, my fingers pressing into his warm skin.
Shade finally lifted his head and stepped back, his eyes bright and his breathing hard. “Let’s go downstairs,” he said.
I nodded. I really hoped downstairs had a bed.
Shade brought me through an office situated behind the counter and cash register. At the far side of the room, we took a metallic staircase that curved downward in a tight spiral and led into an immense basement. It was bright, the lighting so severe I had to squint at first—and as masculine and functional as a place could possibly get.
Disappointment washed through me. It was a workout space, with mats, weights, a few machines, a pull-up bar, and a big black punching bag with BRUISER written down the side in bumblebee yellow.
My eyes landed on a closed door beyond the mats. Unless…
“Do you live here?” I asked.
Shade nodded. “Over there.” He tilted his head toward the door I’d noticed.
He didn’t go that way, though. He crossed his man-cave gym to a tall cupboard, opening it by flipping a series of numbers on an old-style combination lock.
Apparently, wewereexercising, just not in the way I’d hoped.
“Nice gym.” It smelled a little sweaty down here, but not too bad. I glanced around. The equipment was good quality, even if it wasn’t all state of the art. It was still a hell of a lot better than I could afford. “Needs some cats.”
Shade chuckled. “Noted.” His brown eyes flicked to mine.
It was a relief that some of the tension had broken, but my mind wasn’t really on workouts or cats. Shade’s totally unapologetic erection still taunted me from under his loose pants, making me want to wrap my hand around it and squeeze.
Shade, however, got straight down to the business of working out. He set two bottles of water on a low bench and then rummaged in his cupboard, moving things around. He dropped a pair of padded gloves by his feet and then tossed me a smaller pair that he dragged out from farther in the back.
I held them against my chest. They were heavier than the last boxing gloves I’d used, but the training gear in the Fold wasn’t always the best. Standing there across from Shade, performance anxiety suddenly struck me. I hadn’t gone any friendly rounds in a ring in at least two years. I’d been too busy doing other stuff.
“You don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to,” Shade said. “I will, just in case I accidentally get too rough.”
So the padding was for me, not for his hands. I couldn’t decide if that was sweet or patronizing. Maybe a bit of both. At least he’d seen something in me that had made him believe Icouldspar, and that we weren’t starting from scratch.
“You think I won’t land a punch?” I challenged.
He grinned. “If you do, you’ll want those.” He thumped his chest. “Hard as a rock.”
I laughed, although there was nothing false about that.
Shade bent to take off his shoes before stepping barefoot onto the large square mat. He pulled on his gloves, securing them in place as he moved toward the center and started loosening up.
I followed his lead, setting my socks and boots aside—andwhoa, my head swam when I straightened back up. I blinked silver streaks from my eyes as I tugged on the gloves, using my teeth in the same way Shade had to secure the second wrist strap. When I felt steady enough again, I walked out onto the mat.
“You want headgear?” Shade asked.
