I start my workout playlist, the intense beat of Slipknot’s “Duality” filling the room.
I try to concentrate on my reps as she runs. I clasp the chin-up bar. Do another set of muscle-ups. But my attention keeps drifting to her. Her stride. Her ease.
She increases the pace, pushing harder, moving faster. I don’t hear her panted breath over the music. Instead, I feel it. The heavy lift of her chest. The distinct purse of her mouth. Each step acts like a cattle prod to my libido.
“You’re fit.” I pull myself over the bar and pause, waiting for her response. “Why didn’t you mention it when we were discussing the list?”
She presses the treadmill dashboard again, creeping the pace higher. “I didn’t think you’d want to know the intricate details of how Luther liked his women in peak condition.”
She’s right. That information isn’t welcomed. In fact, my anger spikes, the reminder of her captor spurring me to push out an additional two reps of pure frustration before falling to the floor.
I slump onto the bench press, watching her, amazed by her.
Tightness enters my chest and it has nothing to do with exercise and a whole hell of a lot to do with things I shouldn’t be thinking about.
She decreases the pace for long enough to remove her sweater and throw it to the floor. Then she’s back running again, her oversized T-shirt billowing at her hips. It’s not enough to stop the display of her bouncing tits. Or to hide the hardness of her nipples pressing against the thin material.
It’s times like this where I wish it had escaped my attention that she didn’t have any underwear in yesterday’s load of laundry. She has no visible panty line either. And maybe I’m daydreaming or living in a fucked-up fantasy, but I don’t think she’s been wearing underwear at all. Not now, and not since returning stateside.
Fuck me for being the prick who noticed.
I shove to my feet, needing an additional set of reps to drag my attention away from something that will get me killed. Something that’s a fucking dick move to even think about.
She deserves better.
Decker trusted me with her protection. He didn’t give me an all-access pass to ogle his sister.
I drag myself up and over the bar, punishing myself, pushing so fucking hard my arms scream in protest. And still I can’t stop the imagery taking over my mind. Can’t drag my fucking gaze away.
She’s completely oblivious. She keeps running, surpassing the mile marker to plow straight ahead.
There’s never been a more remarkable woman. More powerful. More inspirational.
I’m caught up admiring the perfection until I finally gain the restraint to drag my attention away. I stare out the window in front of her, wishing I had the power to give her a better life. To solve her problems.
I’m stuck in the daydream of making her smile… until my gaze catches on her reflection in the glass, those dark eyes staring back at me.
Shit.
I force myself not to look away and announce the wicked shit filling my head. And I try even harder not to readjust my cock. To put the fucker back in his place—into deep, dark confinement far away from her, all while she keeps staring, keeps undoing me.
“That’s enough for today.” I release the bar and drop to my feet. “You don’t want to push yourself too hard when I’m going to make you come back tomorrow.”
Fucking tomorrow—the necessary vicious routine that will help her, and slowly kill me.
“Yes, boss.” She thumps a hand against the treadmill dashboard, making the conveyor stop. “Same time, same place?”
I ignore her sarcasm, too fixated on the nickname she gave me. If only she knew how bossy I could be. How demanding. How dominant.
A man like me isn’t meant for a woman like her, no matter how incessant my attraction.
“Same time, same place.”
The music cuts off mid song as my cell starts to ring. Torian’s name is written across the bright screen while the device vibrates on the floor.
“Are you going to answer that?” She steps off the treadmill and raises the long length of her shirt to wipe the faint hint of moisture from her face, exposing sweat-slicked skin.
“Yeah.” I snatch the cell and connect the call. “What’s up?”
“How kind of you to finally answer your phone,” he drawls. “Does that mean you’ve stopped holding a grudge over me sending you home?”
“Still holding tight, asshole. What do you want?”
He chuckles, the tone laced with aggression. “I thought you’d appreciate an update.”
“I don’t need one.” I walk from the exercise room, leaving Penny alone, and continue down the hall to shut myself into my bedroom. “Decker calls me on the daily. He’s kept me posted on your progress in Greece. Progress I deserved to be a part of.”
“And from the progress reports I’ve received, it sounds like you’re coping just fine in your cozy isolation,” he counters. “I’m told the role of protector suits you. Maybe a little too well.”
Fuck Sarah and her big mouth.
“What do you want, Torian? I’ve got shit to do.”
A lengthy sigh travels down the line. “There are two things. First, I thought Penny would like to know your brother is returning the first of her friends home today.”
I pause a beat. “Why are you telling me this? Why didn’t Benji call me himself?”
“He’s busy. And you told me he struggles to handle his wife, let alone look after three rescued women. He’s also been out of range. But the process of returning them home has started, and I assume the information will be a relief to Decker’s sister.”
I agree. Doesn’t mean I’m letting him off the hook for sending me home.
“Okay.” I shrug. “I’ll let her know. What’s the second thing?”
The conversation gains another pause.
Another sigh.
“You’re not going to appreciate this news.”
I clench my fist, my impatience building. “So spit it out. It’s not like you have an issue with pissing me off. If anything, I’m sure you enjoy it.”
“It’s to do with the kid and Keira.”
The kid and Keira.
The kid—meaning Tobias. The son of Penny’s captor, and the boy she helped raise. The kid she would claim as her own if she had the choice. And the child who is Torian’s half-brother.
I cling tighter to the cell. “What about him?”
“He arrived in Portland a few days ago.”
“A few days?” I grate, trying not to let anger consume me on Penny’s behalf.
“Yes.”
“And you kept it from us, why?”
“Because Tobias has come a long way since the death of his father. He’s doing well. But every time he gets on the phone to Penny he loses momentum. She’s dragging him down, and it’s best if they keep their distance for a while.”
I huff out a derisive laugh. “You’re a fucking asshole.”
“Am I?” he snaps. “Why? For protecting my brother?”
“For having no fucking concern for Penny.”
“She’s not my problem. She’s yours.” His usual sense of superiority enters his voice, the dictatorial aggression barely leashed. “I’m telling you out of courtesy and nothing else. It’s up to you if you inform her of the situation.”