by Shey Stahl
Destry pushed himself away from the wall and closed the distance between us. “You can use my place.”
Say what? My eyes betrayed me. They went to his crotch. “You mean the locker room?”
“No, my apartment. I have a bathtub.” When I didn’t say anything, his mouth twitched as he ran his hand over his jaw. “Is that a yes?”
The words came out before I could stop them. “Yes.”
Oh shit. What did I agree to? Alone with him in his apartment?
Girl, you’re alone with him every night in a basement. Couldn’t be much worse than that.
To fight to the final bell or the duration of an entire fight.
I wasn’t sure what I expected when I thought about Destry’s apartment, but I didn’t expect this. There was nothing in the way of photographs or decorations. It was simple with black stone tile in the entryway and kitchen that met dark wood floors in the living room. Against the wall in the living room was a brown leather couch that appeared to be slept on quite often. Surrounding it was about a dozen empty beer bottles and one empty vodka bottle. In the corner, next to a window that overlooked the city was a punching bag hung from the ceiling. Against the opposite wall from the couch was a television mounted on the wall.
That was it.
As I walked further into his apartment, I gathered he was a “necessities only” type of guy but had expensive taste.
“You want some water?” he asked from behind. “Or a beer.”
“Yes.” I turned around to look at him. “Water, please.”
He moved around me to the stainless steel fridge and retrieved two bottles of water and handed me one. I peeked in his fridge and it was a lot like his house. Empty.
I got the cap off and took a drink. It was so refreshing but in the corner, I notice Destry was without a shirt now.
I told myself not to look. I did, repeatedly. But none of that shit worked. Then again, I didn’t want to appear too obvious, so I did that trick where I held the water bottle out in front of me and zoned past it.
Destry caught on because who the hell looked at a water bottle? Well, I would, but this time I wasn’t. What did he do?
Destry wasn’t the type of guy to pop off with a cheesy line or even say anything for that matter. There was a small hint of a smile, but nothing notable. He watched me, let his eyes drift south to the curves of my body. Then he raised his arm and pointed behind me. “Bathroom’s that way. Towels are under the sink.”
I couldn’t stay there staring at him, so I took off down the hall, which wasn’t a hall at all. It was like a cutout in the living room with two doors. A bedroom and a bathroom.
After closing the door behind me, I set my water on the counter and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked like crap. My face was all flushed, hair matted and tossed up into a messy ponytail.
As I stared at myself, I was both concerned at my appearance, but strangely satisfied that my arms and stomach were tighter. It’d only been two weeks. Was that even possible?
Well, with Destry, it seemed that way. Look at his body.
I’d gotten my clothes off and bath running when I decided to snoop through his medicine cabinet. Seemed appropriate. Who wouldn’t go through a man’s medicine cabinet?
All in the name of research.
I stood there for a brief moment, my bare feet on cold tile while I decided if going through his personal belongings was an invasion of privacy. It was but I’d already crossed the privacy line when I so openly watched him in the shower.
I was a little nervous when I opened it. There was barely anything in there but toothpaste, a toothbrush, contact lens cleaner, deodorant, clippers, and what looked to be a prescription. I picked the bottle up and read the label.
VICODIN.
DESTRY J. STONE
TAKE EVERY 4-6 HOURS AS NEEDED FOR PAIN.
Hmm. Interesting.
Aside from a box of unopened condoms and toothpaste, he didn’t have much to look at, so I decided to get in the tub. It was strange to be in a man’s apartment, naked, in his tub. Anxiety worked through me and I couldn’t relax enough to enjoy it. I kept thinking at any minute he was going to walk in. And guess what? He did.
Just as I was beginning to relax my shoulders and sink into the tub, Destry walked in, still with no shirt on and carrying a bucket. “Destry, oh my God!” I tried to cover my breasts but really, he saw it all before I had time.
And he looked. Bluntly. Like he’d planned that. “Ice water is best for sore muscles,” he said, still staring at my tits.
“Are you shitting me right now? I’m naked.”
He shrugged and dumped the bucket in my bath. “So what? You saw me naked on Monday, in the shower, yes?”
Oh, my fuck! He knew I was watching him!
My mouth gaped open, not only from that damn ice but also that I was caught. How embarrassing. I could feel the rush of warmth to my cheeks. And elsewhere. Destry had that presence about him.
I thought maybe he would dump the ice in and then leave. After all, he walked away a lot. But no, the fucker sat down on the toilet beside the tub. “Are you for real?” I cupped my boobs tighter with my palms and crossed my legs. “What are you doing?”
He tapped the side of the tub with his index finger. “You said your leg was hurting. Let me see it.”
“What? No. Get out.”
“Oh, come on. I’m not looking.” He laughed, actually laughed. Slowly, he lowered his gaze and stared at my stomach and hips. “Okay, well, now I am, but let me see your leg.”
There was a certain amount of authority in his voice I couldn’t ignore. I tried though. “No.”
“It’s only fair, Tallan.” His voice lowered as if he was trying to be seductive. “Don’t you think?”
I didn’t say anything. My body was shaking again. He’d caught me watching him and he didn’t say anything? Who did that?
“Nothing to say?” he asked.
When I was about to scream, he picked up the bucket and dropped more ice cubes in the tub and smiled. “What?” I jumped at the shock of the ice. “No. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I hope you enjoyed the view.” His eyes crinkled at the corners when he grinned. “Care to give me a view now?”
I narrowed my gaze on his. “Are you serious? I can’t tell with you!”
Reaching inside the ice water, he retrieved a handful of ice. “I don’t joke around often. So, what do you think?” Taking it in the palm of his hand, he then placed it over my calf. I shivered, but not from the ice when he trailed a finger down my left leg.
Destry was touching my bare leg. And he was massaging it. Again.
Would it be weird if I grabbed his hand and shoved it between my legs?
Yeah, don’t do that. You’ll scare him away.
I closed my eyes as he massaged my leg, aching to be touched higher. My body tingled, every nerve ending inside me jumped to life and my breathing… fuck, I tried so hard to control that shit, but I desperately wanted him to touch me. Undeniably, I wanted good sex. I wanted it so bad it was becoming all I thought about, and without a doubt Destry could fuck you stupid.
The thing was, a week ago I wanted that with Silas, and I was ready to jump at the opportunity. Now, well my pussy had made a friend and she wanted a play date with boxer boy.
With all his touching, I needed to brace myself, so I did. Moving my hands to the edge of the tub, I steadied for what might come next. But I clearly didn’t think it through. Reaching for the tub left me bare and exposed from the waist up.
Destry, meet my boobs. Give them a tit shake if you’d like.
His jaw clenched, the muscles flexing, his breathing changing. He let out a long breath and unconsciously, it seemed, moved his hand higher than necessary.
“You can go higher,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat from the nerves and the increasing throbbing pleasure his touch created.
“If I do…” His dark eyes flickered to mine and stayed there as he said, low a
nd rough, “You and I both know I won’t stop.”
The words rattled around in my head, sinking in, but I couldn’t for the life of me think of one reason to stop him. I wanted it. Why stop him? “Then don’t stop,” I whispered, my voice barely audible to me over the pounding of my heart.
Destry’s chest heaved and he eyed me, then scooted back on the toilet seat. Having ran his hands through his hair, it stood up in the wake, falling into his eyes. Standing, he ran he hands over the towel on the counter. With his eyes on mine, he reached inside his shorts and adjusted himself. Yep. He palmed his fucking dick. In front of me. And I watched every erotic moment with my mouth open and probably drool coming out. In the process, his shorts came down a little bit and I swear on everything holy I saw the top inch of his cock. I wished I had a photographic memory!
Sweet. Fucking. Jesus.
Clearing my throat, my eyes snapped to his when he shifted backward to the door. He winked and nodded toward the hallway. “Hungry?”
“I… uh… what?”
Is that code for sex?
“For food.” He laughed quietly, amused with himself. “Are you hungry for food?”
I made this squeak sound when I sighed, sinking down in the tub. “Yes. Since I met you, I’m always hungry.” My stare darted to his crotch and the outline of his cock. Yep. He was aroused for sure. When he noticed me checking out his junk, his jaw clenched again, so I added, “Food would be good.”
What was I doing? I hired a guy to get me into shape and here I was, two weeks into it and writing an article about him, watching him naked in the shower and now letting him watch me naked, massage my leg with ice cubes, and telling him to touch me higher.
What the fuck?
When a boxer is knocked down face-first on to the canvas. In the old days they would say his face was in the resin of the canvas.
That night in his apartment after I got out of the tub, we sat around Destry’s living room eating carb-filled Chinese food. “I shouldn’t be eating this,” I told him, twirling noodles around my plastic fork.
He lifted one shoulder as he bit into an egg roll. “Everything’s good for you in moderation.”
“I beg to differ. Meth isn’t good for anyone.”
Snorting, he rolled his eyes. “Okay, you got me there.”
As weird as it sounded, having dinner with him, or seeing him naked, changed the dynamic of our relationship. He saw my boobs. And I saw his dick. Like it or not, that changed all relationships.
Everything he said made me wonder what the fuck he was talking about. I would latch onto certain words and then spend the entire night trying to decipher them and their meaning. Annoyed the hell out of me. I would wonder if they were meant for me or if they were about someone else.
The thing was, the more time I spent around him, the more research I did, the more I wanted to help him. The more I wanted to know about him. Then I hated him more because he was invading my brain. I didn’t want to think about him like that. My goal here was Silas, my ex who I was trying to get back. Why was Destry even affecting me at all? Why did I care if he was nice or not?
I was a woman on a mission. I shouldn’t want the answer. I shouldn’t care at all. He was just a personal trainer and this was the article.
I blamed Marcus. I blamed Jared. Really anyone but myself at that point.
I started caring when Marcus put the story in my head and made me believe I could make a difference in Destry’s life. I was sure I could change the public perception of what they perceived as Destry losing the fight or throwing the fight. For once, someone could make a difference for him instead of using him. It was when Marcus presented the idea that I had to get to know him.
I was researching him and then I was convinced that there was so much more to the man behind the harsh image that he so desperately wanted people to believe was really him.
When it wasn’t at all.
There was a side with so much passion that it was damn near blinding to be around him. It was like an overcast day when you didn’t think the sun was that bright, but you found yourself squinting.
IT WAS NEARING seven Monday night when I arrived at the bar. Destry wasn’t down there yet so I waited for him when my phone rang. The number wasn’t one I recognized but maybe it was Destry calling.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Tallan.” A man’s voice rang through, one that I recognized but couldn’t place.
“Hey?” I said, a little unsure and then it dawned on me that it was Silas. My heart started pounding in my chest. “Silas?”
“Yeah, it’s me. So… are we still on for the concert in a few weeks?” His words seemed rushed, commotion all around him. “I’m back in the States now but I just wanted to check.”
I laughed lightly, then noticed Destry approaching, carrying his bag and a sweatshirt. Immediately, I wanted off the phone. I didn’t want Destry to see me so vulnerable and Silas caused that. Destry had shown me in the past few weeks how strong I could be and having him witness this conversation wiped all that to shit.
Stopping near me, Destry leaned into the brick wall, staring at his phone.
“Did you think I forgot?” I asked, trying to keep my voice quiet in case Destry was listening. I knew he was.
“No,” Silas said, his breathing and words evening out. “But I was worried that maybe you would call it off. It’s a lot for me to ask and I don’t deserve it. I understand if you don’t want to see me again after what went down after high school.”
Ya think?
I didn’t say anything in response because, in reality, there was some truth to that. I was also so damn nervous with Destry standing this close. Anything I said he could hear and would judge me without saying a word. The look he’d give me would be humiliating enough.
“But I want to see you,” Silas admitted.
I sighed, turning my body away from Destry and into the wall. “Why?”
Noticing I was attempting to gain some privacy, I heard Destry chuckle behind me. He didn’t care who I was talking to, or that I wanted privacy.
“I’m going through some shit and it’d be a nice to hang with a familiar face.”
“Of course, I can’t wait to see you and catch up.” Speaking in such low tones, I wasn’t entirely sure he even heard me with all of the commotion and background noise on his end.
Destry certainly heard. It was so quiet in the basement. I might as well have been shouting at the way my voice carried.
I felt bad for Silas. I couldn’t imagine the lifestyle he now had. Different city every night and your closest family and friends never by your side. You could only live that life for so long. Deep down he had to have known the lifestyle he chose would result in isolation. It always did.
“I’ll call in a week or so and make sure you get the ticket.”
“Okay, thanks.”
When I hung up, Destry dropped his bag from his shoulder and looked up at me. “I’m curious. What do you see in that guy?”
“What guy?” I knew who he was talking about, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer him.
He was so good at being cryptic, I figured I would try my hand at it now. He seemed amused at my response. But he was still waiting for an answer and I was beginning to understand when Destry wanted an answer, he got one.
I planted my hands on my hips. “You mean Silas Cade?”
His eyes traveled south, drinking in the entire length of my body. Self-consciously, I yanked at my dark gray T-shirt, trying to make sure it wasn’t clinging to my body. And then I wondered why I was trying to hide myself from him. He saw me naked the other day. He knew exactly what I looked like underneath these clothes. When I thought about it, Destry didn’t hide his attraction to me. Or maybe he wasn’t even attracted to me. Maybe he was horny.
“Stop staring at me. It’s making me uncomfortable.”
He focused on my lips. “Maybe I like what I see.”
Yeah, that was it. He was just horny.
The
thing was, I didn’t miss the fact that he was looking at least. “Only because you saw my tits.” I blushed and he winked.
Destry fucking winked at me. “Maybe so.”
Oh my God, is he flirting?
No way. Guys like Destry didn’t flirt. They didn’t need to. But then he spoke, and I wanted to punch him because his mouth ruined everything. “You’re stupid for going,” he told me, flat out, as if he was disgusted with me. “I can tell you that right now he’s not looking to talk.”
Back to douche mode. “You don’t know a damn thing about Silas,” I snapped, starting to get pissed at everyone and their comments. Did they think I was that dumb? “So what if he wants me? Who are you to fucking judge me for that? Not everyone fucks around with every girl who spreads her goddamn legs. Maybe I want that for once. I have a right to be slutty.” Once the words left my mouth, I resaid them in my head and realized it didn’t make a lot of sense. I have a right to be slutty?
What? Had all the running and lack of oxygen to my brain lately permanently damaged my brain cells?
It was his turn to get defensive, and he did. The lines in his forehead deepened as he scowled at me. “What the fuck are you talking about? Are you saying that’s me?” He stepped forward, kind of like he did with Stella when she challenged him.
He didn’t like to back down, did he?
“Sure looks that way, given the girl who walked in here the other day.” I backed up to create distance between us, my back pressing into the cool brick wall. “You’re probably no different than Silas.”
“Who are you to fuckin’ judge me?” He stepped back and raised his hands, wide like he was inviting me in, but I knew he wasn’t. “I had one girlfriend. One. I was with her for two goddamn years. I’ve fucked five girls my entire life. Five. And given my status, that’s a fucking miracle I haven’t bagged thousands.” He shook his head, anger evident in the glower pinning me to the wall. I was mortified for assuming. Especially when he added, “Fuck you for thinking otherwise.”
Whoa. Not at all what I was expecting. Not only did I strike a nerve, but it wasn’t lost on me that Destry was a good guy, and all this time I’d been thinking he was some kind of man whore. Never assume, apparently.