Jake’s eyes sparkle, amused. He leans back against the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf and folds his arms. Even in his worn, ripped clothes, he makes my mouth water: jeans hanging low on narrow hips, T-shirt torn just enough to reveal a ripple of muscle on his chest, and biceps bulging from tight sleeves. I am almost launched into a torrid fantasy where I shred his clothes in a frenzy of lust.
“If the guys come over and fix it up…will you rent it?”
A shiver races down my spine, but I play it cool and twirl a lock of hair around my finger. “Are you sure you want me? I mean, it’s a lot of work and I have another office lined up so don’t think I’m desperate or…”
“Yes. I want you.”
Every bit of warmth rushes to my center, but I hesitate. Do I want the place bad enough to endure the torture of having Jake for a landlord? Sure, he’s been kind and helpful, but he clearly still hasn’t forgiven me. And maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to forgive him. How many times did I try to talk to him about what happened? How many times was I rebuffed?
Simply out of curiosity, I ask, “What’s the rent?”
“Whatever you want to pay.”
My eyebrow lifts and I fiddle with my hair, twisting it in a knot. “If I was interested, I would want to pay whatever you were asking of the other people who came to see the place.”
Jake names a figure I am sure is nothing near what he could get from someone else. I tell him so. He shrugs and says it isn’t negotiable. I offer what I was going to pay for the other office. His eyes harden and he lowers his initial offer. I begrudgingly capitulate and dance a secret inner dance of joy.
“You’re a dangerous man,” I say after we haggle through a few details. “First you convince me to leave my house and venture back out into the world. Then you convince me to start a business. And now, I’m renting the least likely place I ever expected to see myself running a law firm. What’s next?”
A slow, sensual smile curves his lips. “If I told you what I had planned, you’d run for the hills.” He closes the distance between us and runs his fingers through my hair, working out the tangle my fiddling has created as if he couldn’t bear to see it anymore. His touch is gentle, his breath sweet on my cheek. Maybe he doesn’t like tangles. Or maybe he needed to get that out of his system too.
***
“Move that ass, Westwood.”
Fuzzy bellows the order like a pumped-up drill sergeant and I join the class in yet another soul-destroying sprint across Redemption’s overly long warehouse.
Good as his word, Jake arranged with Max for the cost of my classes to be covered in exchange for my new role as Redemption’s unofficial attorney. Although Max already has a stable of attorneys at his beck and call to deal with his business matters, he spread the word in the gym that if anyone needs general advice, they can come to me.
And I already have one new client. Except now, instead of shuffling his feet and mumbling about needing an attorney because the bank is foreclosing on his parent’s house, Fuzzy is screaming abuse like he’s trying to get us ready for the front line instead of just getting us fit.
“Come on, ya buncha losers,” he screams. “Whaddya thinking? That we’re having an afternoon stroll with Grandpa? MOVE.”
My legs wobble as we turn and race across the mats. Foolishly, I slow my pace to catch my breath.
“Westwood. You’ve already had a warning. You need a kick in the ass too?”
“Gimme a break, Fuzz.” I whine a breath. “I’ve spent the last few years in a…”
“What did you call me?” His usually cheerful face turns an unusual shade of purple.
“Um…Fuzz?” A warning prickle creeps over my skin, and I look around for someone to tell me what I’ve done wrong. Curiously, the entire class is huddled down at the other end of the warehouse and looking in the other direction. A few fighters sparring on the mats smirk. Over by the free weights, a betraying Jake is talking to Obsidian when he’s supposed to be protecting me from Fuzzy’s wrath.
“In this class, you address me as Sir,” Fuzzy shouts.
Swallowing hard, I give him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”
Fuzzy scowls. “Not funny. On the floor, gimme twenty-five push-ups. NOW.”
“Someone is suffering from delusions of grandeur.”
“FIFTY.”
With a loud sigh, I drop to my knees, lean forward, and place my hands on the mat. Fuzzy kneels beside me and hangs his head upside down in my line of vision.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“It’s a woman’s push-up.” I grunt my annoyance. “We have a different center of gravity. It’s just as hard for me to do the push-up from my knees as it is for you to do a push-up with your toes on the mat.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Fuzzy clambers to his feet and hollers for Shilla the Killa. A few moments later she joins us, a grin plastered across her face.
“Amanda here thinks women need to do push-ups on their knees.” His derisory tone sends a shiver down my spine. “Gimme twenty…man style.”
Shayla snorts a laugh and drops her cut, muscular body down to the mat. Her thick, brown ponytail swings violently over her shoulder as she does twenty perfect, man-style push-ups without breaking a sweat.
“You want another set with me clapping my hands between each push-up?” She looks over at Fuzzy and grins. “Or maybe with one hand?”
“Nope. We’re good. Dismissed.” Fuzzy gives her a high five. Shayla’s cheeks glow pink and she bounds back to the fight ring. Fuzzy glares at me sitting back on my heels and points down.
“You gonna keep scowlin’ at me, or are you gonna do the push-ups? The class is called Get Fit or Die for a reason.”
I glare at Fuzzy. I don’t like him anymore. He’s mean, mean, mean. It’s like he had a personality transplant when he stepped into the gym. I wish I had never signed up for Get Fit or Die. I wish I had never set foot in Redemption. I wish I hadn’t had burritos for lunch. They’re weighing me down.
With a sigh, I drop to my knees. “I can do maybe five…sir.”
He folds his arms and then gestures to someone behind me. “Gotta girl here with a lotta attitude. Needs to do fifty push-ups before she rejoins the class. Can you watch her for me?”
“I dunno.” Jake joins Fuzzy, a smile curling his lips. “That scowl on her face is kind of scary. What if she attacks me?”
Fuzzy laughs. “Don’t think you have to worry about that any more than you’d worry about getting scratched by a declawed kitten.”
As I open my mouth to protest, Fuzzy holds up one finger. “One more word outta you, and you’ll be doing the push-ups with Renegade on your back.”
Mmmm. I picture Jake lying on top of me—naked—as I struggle and strain to push myself off the mat, my body slick with sweat, my ass rubbing up against…
“So…fifty push-ups?” Jake stands in front of me arms folded, legs spread. My kneeling position puts my eyes directly in line with the bulge beneath his fight shorts.
Oh God. So big. Look away. Look away.
My cheeks burn and I stare at the mat. But maybe it’s not all him. Fighters usually wear a cup. He must be wearing a cup. Of course, he’s wearing a cup. I look up just as he squats down beside me. Now I am treated to a close-up view of his lean, ripped body glistening with sweat and tight thigh muscles bunched under red fight shorts and…
Nope. He’s not wearing a cup. That’s all him. How could I have forgotten an important detail like that?
“Buncha deadbeats,” Fuzzy yells at the cowering class across the gym. “Did I tell you to stop running? MOVE.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” they chant.
Ah. That’s why Fuzzy was still pissed off after I said “sir.” I only said it once. Nice of no one to tell me.
“Amanda. Push-ups.” Jake’s voice drops low with warning and I immediately dr
op into position.
After five man-style push-ups, I collapse on the mat and moan. “Kill me now.”
Jake laughs. “I’ll let you take a break because I’m such a nice guy.”
“Gee, thanks.” I rest my chin in my hands and look up at him. “You’ll be here all night if you have to wait for me to do fifty push-ups. I thought you had classes to teach.”
He brushes a finger over his bottom lip, considering. “True. I only have half an hour. Maybe it’s your form.” He leaves the weight bench and stands over me. “Here, I’ll help you.”
“I don’t need help…”
But before I can finish my sentence, his feet are on either side of me and his hands are firm around my hips. “Yes you do. Up we go.”
I push myself into the torturous push-up position and Jake holds me in place, his fingers pressed tight against my hips. My body goes from hot to boiling in a heartbeat.
Jake gives me pointers about hand and foot placement, weight distribution, and elbow angle. He is thorough and patient. A good teacher. I go down. I go up. He takes most of my weight, his hands tightening when I wobble. The most erotic form of torture I have ever experienced is so delicious I don’t want it to end. But my body has other ideas.
“Keep going. You’re up to twenty,” he murmurs when I begin to shake.
Oh God. That voice. Deep and warm, his voice wraps around me like a blanket, reminding me of dark sultry nights, twisted sheets, and…oh. My chest tightens and a rush of emotion sucks away the last of my strength. But before I can collapse on the mat, Jake slides his hands around me and pulls me up off the floor and against his bare chest.
For a long moment we don’t move. Fuzzy glances over, raises an eyebrow, and then crooks his finger gesturing me back to the class. But I can’t tear myself away. Longing suffuses every pore of my body bringing with it the deep ache of desire.
Curiously, Jake doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to let me go. His hands tighten around my rib cage, his thumbs only an inch below my breasts. I tilt my head back and look up at him. His sensuous lips are only a whisper away. What would it be like if I had a little lick?
As if he can read my mind, his eyes darken to an azure blue and his body stiffens. So warm. So hard. I feel so safe in his arms.
“Amanda…” His voice is low, husky, and so damn sexy. Heart pounding, I lick my lips and strain up the tiniest bit.
“Is this a new kind of push-up?” I murmur, unable to resist teasing him. “I’m not sure where to push.”
He growls deep in this throat. “You started pushing when you walked into the gym dressed to leave little to the imagination.”
Sweat trickles down my spine. Whether from his hard, hot body pressed up against me or the exertion of the push-ups, I don’t know. “Sports bra and gym shorts? I’m dressed like all the other women.”
Jake leans down and presses a kiss to my neck that sends all sorts of wrong messages to the right parts of my body. “You don’t look like the other women. You’re all soft and sexy and fucking cute when you’re frowning at Fuzz behind his back. And none of the other women needed my hands.” He caresses my bare midriff while his thumbs move higher to trace the underside of my sports-bra-squashed breasts.
“Your hands were very…helpful.” Moisture pools between my thighs and I swallow hard and look over my shoulder, unable to stop myself from pushing him. “Now…not so much, unless you’re planning on getting me down on the mat for something other than push-ups.”
Jake groans. “God, don’t tempt me. When I saw you on your knees in front of Fuzz, and then doing your push-ups all wrong with your sexy little ass in the air…” He draws in a ragged breath. “I promised myself I wouldn’t touch you, but when I saw you needed help…”
“I still need help.” I lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek.
His breath catches and he freezes, his fingers digging into my waist as a pained expression crosses his face.
“You’re off the hook for the last thirty. I’ll tell Fuzzy you gave it your best shot.” He lets me go so abruptly I stagger back.
And suddenly I’m alone on the mat, heart pounding, mouth dry, masochistic streak glowing like a beacon in the night. I only have myself to blame.
Fuzzy says nothing when I rejoin the class. For the next half hour, he tortures us with circuit training, weight lifting, and yet more running. I throw myself into every exercise as I try to exorcise the memory of Jake’s arms around me. By the time Fuzzy calls it quits, the entire class is groaning on the floor. Sex is the furthest thing from my mind.
Shayla and Sandy laugh as they stop beside me to refill their water bottles from the cooler.
“He went easy on you today.” Shayla’s gaze darts over to Fuzzy and then back to me. “But he’ll get you in shape. I thought I was fit until I took one of his advanced classes. The next day I couldn’t get out of bed. But now look at me.” She flexes both arms and her biceps bulge.
“He’s a sadist,” I mutter. “I think he enjoys seeing us suffer in class.”
Shayla holds out a hand to help me up off the mat. “Maybe, but he’s a hot sadist.”
“I’ll tell you who’s hot,” Sandy sighs. “Renegade. He’s so sexy when he’s teaching. Patient but demanding.” She glances at me out of the corner of her eye and smirks. “Too bad he has a new girlfriend, some cute little brunette, or so I heard.”
My already bruised heart sinks into my stomach. Oh God. No wonder he pushed me away. He has a girlfriend. Of course he has a girlfriend. He’s the hottest guy in Redemption. He must have women falling at his feet.
“Hey, Amanda!” Fuzzy jogs up to us, a smile on his evil face. “Good class today. I know it was your first time and you put in a great effort. You’ll be in that fight ring in no time.”
Totally disconcerted by his encouragement and warm smile, I mock a puzzled frown. “Sorry, do I know you? You look just like the evil drill sergeant from my Get Fit or Die class. Or maybe you are you but you have a split personality.”
Fuzzy snorts a laugh and then slaps Shayla on the back. “Shill. Thanks for helping out today.”
“No problem.” Her face brightens.
“Later, girls. Got another class to teach.”
Shayla’s face falls as he walks away. “He thinks I’m one of the guys,” she says morosely. “He treats me the same as he treats Blade Saw or Hammer Fist. A punch in the arm. A slap on the back. The occasional thumbs-up. Sandy suggested I wear this pink sports bra today, but it obviously didn’t work. I’ll bet if I showed up naked, he wouldn’t even notice.”
Pushing my own troubles aside, I give her a sympathetic smile. “Maybe he doesn’t know you’re interested. Guys can be shy about making a move if they don’t get any signals from you. No one wants to be shot down.”
She gives me a look of pure dejection. “It goes both ways.”
“Yeah. But sometimes if you want something bad enough, you have to take a risk.”
Chapter 7
I LIKE HOLES IN SWEATS
“Beer me, babe.”
Fuzzy holds up his hand and I toss a cold beer through the air. Instantly, a dozen hands go up.
“You’re supposed to be renovating,” I yell over the deafening sounds of AC/DC as the sea of hopeful Redemption fighters, spread out over the main floor of Jake’s Haight house, waggle their hands for a beer. “The party starts after.”
“Chill, ’manda. This is the party.” Rampage grabs the last beer from the cooler and downs it without taking a breath. I take a step back, awaiting the inevitable. Rampage courteously delivers the inevitable in Hammer Fist’s face. Hammer Fist slaps him on the head. Rampage grabs the paintbrush from Hammer Fist’s hand and paints a line across the floor. Blade Saw shouts encouragement as Hammer Fist makes a big show of stepping over the line and screaming abuse at Rampage. He delivers his signature blows to Rampage’s stomac
h. Rampage belches again, louder this time and in Hammer Fist’s ear. Fists fly. Paint cans spill. Fighters cheer.
Max steps into the room and lifts an eyebrow. Almost immediately, everything is back to normal. As Max’s second-in-command, Fuzzy keeps everyone on a tight leash, but he doesn’t wield even a fraction of Max’s power. The only fighter who comes close is Jake. Not for the first time do I envy my best friend.
But hey, this is definitely a party. Beers all around.
“Your new office is going to look great.” Makayla gives my shoulders a squeeze. “I can’t believe how much they’ve done in twelve hours or that thirty guys showed up. I wish Max and I weren’t going away tomorrow. I would have loved to help you shop for furniture and decorate.”
“Don’t remind me.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Who does Max think he is, dragging you on a month-long holiday across the world? Maybe you have better things to do than hang out on exotic beaches or in fancy hotels. What if there is a major accident and the city needs every paramedic to help out? Or what if Drake can’t cover your shifts at Redemption? He should be thinking about the people who need you instead of taking you away when they need you the most.”
“Awww, honey.” She hugs me so hard tears leak from my eyes. “It’s not like I won’t have my phone. We can still text, and you know you can call me anytime. I’m always here for you. I’ve helped you avoid Jake all day…”
“By agreeing with him that I should work alone in the kitchen?”
Makayla takes one end of the empty cooler and motions for me to take the other. “By keeping him away from the kitchen when he wanted to check up on you. You don’t even appreciate all I do for you.” We lug the cooler into the kitchen for a refill.
“I do appreciate you, which is why it’ll be so hard when you’re gone.”
In Your Corner Page 9