I turn away, rubbing my jaw, aware that I need to chill the fuck out. I can’t actually get caught up in a relationship with her. Even if it’s just sex. Even if it’s justflirting.
Maybe it’s my fault for not setting a clearer boundary or for letting the existing one blur. What am I even expecting? It’s been four months since I’ve fucked a woman and two years since a relationship. She just snuck in, somehow, while sitting on that tire, or looking at her broken home. How could I have been an ass to her, then? She’s fighting for her brother’s legacy, and that shit hits close to home for me.
It’s not my fault that we get along so damn well, or that she fits my team like she’s been there from day one. Or that I can’t stop noticing the way those tight pants hug her lithe legs and perfectly round ass…
I need to let it go.
Maybe if she didn’t clearly have wandering eyes for me, I could ignore her with more ease.
But I can’t.
I just can’t, and I don’t know what to fucking do with myself.
J U L I E
* * *
I spend all day punching,kicking, and running. Dolores turned out to be a gift from somewhere in the universe that finally took pity on me, and the wonderful woman recommended that I punch some bags for relief.
Tiffany has been picking up more shifts lately, which she tends to do when loneliness chases her. The last time I saw her, she not only wore no makeup—one of her favorite things to wear—but there were bags under her eyes.
I told Tiff that she needs to join me and punch something; it helps. I don’t know why it took forever for it to cross my mind. Perhaps it’s because the gym feels more like work rather than a place to work out.
Either way, I feel refreshed.
At Andrew’s house that night, I’m in the kitchen after a shower, putting meal preps into the fridge. Andrew, of course, makes jokes about being happy that I’m there to do it, but I’m also not going to refuse.
He gave me a place to live, after all.
Ryder comes into the kitchen, and it’s immediately awkward when our gazes connect. It’s our first private encounter since that moment on the couch. Andrew is at a bar celebrating the upcoming Warlord Gala with his friends.
“Just getting some water,” Ryder mumbles.
I don’t say anything, as he wears those tighter, thin sleeping pants, his white tank top showing off howthickhe’s gotten. His arms and shoulders are exposed, and I think back to when he held me close. It doesn’t help that his light scruff only enhances his rugged nature.
But I’ve been ready for this. I will do what it takes to get us back to a place that’s cordial.
“How you holding up after everything?” he asks.
I peer down at the tiled floor, tucking my hair behind my ear. “At this point, as long as my hair doesn’t fall out, I am just along for this crazy ride.”
He gently smiles. “You’re coming with us to New York, right?”
“Yeah, I am. You nervous?”
He leans against the island countertop. “In a way. I’m mostly just ready to do this and get it started.”
“The internet is losing its mind now that they’ve seen you’re on the roster. Andrew says he might get a press manager after this.”
“Yeah, because if I have to manage that shit, it’s going to tank my career with how many people I will tell to fuck off.” He scratches the back of his neck, the muscles in his forearms flexing, and I have to look away.
I’m so enamored with him that even the causal side of him gets to me.
Daring a peek through my lashes, his gaze penetrates me exactly as it did when we sat in the living room, or when he was unwrapping his wrists. I want to say so much, and yet my mind is a blank canvas. When neither of us backs down, I once again become a thousand broken pieces of metal, pulled towards his magnetism.
His lips part, his gaze trailing down my face—
A loud bang from the back porch shocks us. Ryder’s expression morphs into the savage visage he reserves only for the ring, moving with speed, his thick arm shooting out in front of me, pushing me back.
