But I’m still seething in a way I can’t seem to get a grip on, and I hate the way this man makes me feel.
Out of control.
Of my reactions.
My thoughts.
My damn body.
When he’s around, everything is heightened. I’m more aware of all the things I normally push to the back of my mind in favor of focusing on what’s important—protecting the family.
I don’t have the time or energy to deal with him on a daily basis, something I damn sure intend to tell him. Or maybe not, as that would only be conceding the fact that he does have some control over me.
Fuck.
Atlas watches me with a raised brow. “What is up with you two?” He motions between the closing locker room door and me. “Seriously. It’s like thunder and lightning collide every time you are in a room with him.”
I roll my shoulders, shaking out my arms. “Nothing. He just…riles me up sometimes.”
Atlas chuckles. “No shit.”
The door between the gym and the pilates studio opens, and Wren sticks her head in. “Oh, hi, Bishop.” She smiles, and it pulls at the scars on the side of her face. “Babe, can you come help me with something?”
Atlas gives me a long look. “Sure can. For what it’s worth, Bishop, I like the guy.”
So do I.
And that’s the problem ultimately.
I can’t like him.
I can’t enjoy this dynamic we have where he pushes and I push back harder.
I can’t want more of what we had the other night.
I just…can’t.
Atlas slips from the ring and goes to help his fiancée, leaving me alone in the silent gym knowing damn well the man behind all my frustrations is only a door away.
15
BISHOP
Even knowing what a horrific idea it is, I shove through the door to the locker room and storm in, intent on confronting Gage and ending whatever this is now.
Before things go too far.
Before we’re so deep down the rabbit hole that there isn’t any way to climb out of it.
It’s one of the reasons I’ve avoided him. Because even if I think I’m mentally prepared to deal with the emotions he created by our night together, Gage can still toss one look my way and completely unravel my well-constructed defenses.
He can unravel me so easily when I need to stay wound this tight to stay alert and ensure I don’t miss anything.
Right now, it’s impossible to miss him.
Gage stands beside the shower in nothing but his shorts, hands at the waistband, about to shove them down. There’s no question he heard me stomp in here, and the door swings closed behind me, ensuring he’s well aware of my presence. But he keeps his back to me, reaching over to crank on the hot water as if he doesn’t have a care in the world while I’m over here fuming.
“You held back!”
