by Anita Gray
“I can work around your schedule.” I force myself to look up at him, and my next line comes out thick with sarcasm, “It's what I'm here for, isn't it?”
He chuckles, glancing between my eyes and mouth, then he takes the dishes to the sink. “Do you want anything else to eat?”
“No.”
With raised eyebrows, he looks back at me. “No 'thank you'.”
I snort. I barely say please and thank you to my master, so as if I'd be courteous to him.
“Can I go now?” I say. “Or do you want to grill me some more?”
Shaking his head, he pulls open the fridge for a bottle of beer. “You can go if youwant to go.”
I'm out of my seat before he barely finishes speaking, and the sarcastic me says, “Thank you.”
17
The next morning, I eat a scrambled egg breakfast courtesy of Charlie, wash up the plate and cutlery in the sink, and then I wander inside the gym, ready to put him on his ass again. I'm wearing my trainers, a black long sleeve sweater and sports trousers, my hair rolled back in a bun.
Charlie is on the treadmill already, a little sweaty but lean and running like an athlete. He looks good in gray sports shorts with trainers, no top, his lean legs tanned and dusted in dark hair.
Trying to ignore how gorgeous he is—he's got a better body than Maksim—I pursue for the boxing ring. He stops running as soon as he sees me, pushing a button to slow the pace.
“Morning, Blaire,” he pants out, so I look at him. His lips are curved in a sinfully alluring smile.
I wish he wouldn't smile at me like that. It makes me feel all funny inside.
“You ready?” Tying up his hair, he rolls back off the treadmill. He's only a little breathless but I'm not surprised. He's fit.
“Sure.” Pulling the ropes apart, I climb into the ring and hold them open for him.
“Iwant to teach you something,” he says, straightening and stepping up to me, towering over me.
“What?” I walk backward, wondering why he's walking into me like this... prowling... “You're not going to start questioning me over Maksim again, are you?” The thought just popped into my head. After that intense conversation with him over dinner yesterday, I want to avoid the topic of Maksim like the plague.
“No,” Charlie says, circling me.
I pivot to his stride, my eyes trained on his. “Okay. So, what do you want to teach me then?”
“Mental control.” He attacks me without warning but I block his punch with my forearm.
“Bloody hell, Charlie! Give me a chance to prepare.” I step back, blinking at him. “Why do you want to teach me mental control?”
He tries to slap my face but I swerve his effort.
“Because,” he says, his gaze dark and focused, “I don't want you listening to anyone else around you when you're fighting.”
He snatches for my throat but I punch his hand away, keeping my legs slightly open for balance. I need my wits about me today, clearly.
“You don't want me listening to anyone?” I say, baffled.
“I noticed how quickly you stopped fighting when Maksim told you to kill James.” Charlie follows me around the ring, trying to dominate me with his presence, his neck a little hunched. “If James was out for blood that day, you'd be dead.”
Is he fucking kidding me? James would have needed more than that stupid moment of distraction to end me.
I'm insulted and getting pissed off.
Charlie swings for me with a straight front-jab. I catch his punch in one hand and clout him in the face with my other, adrenaline spiking in me.
He laughs, wiping a drizzle of blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “That was vicious.”
“Vicious?” I yell, shaking out my hand, pain simmering in my bones. “You're trying to punch me! You said you wouldn't-”
Charlie ambushes me then and grabs the back of my neck with both hands. He forces me to bend over and tries to knee me in the face, letting out a deep groan with each assail. Growling in anger, I beat away his attacks with the heels of my palms, then I tackle him with my shoulder, putting him on his ass.
He's so fucking heavy to move it's physically taxing.
Dashing to my feet, I jump about and roll my shoulders, trying to warm up. I should have stretched out before fighting him today but I didn't anticipate this.
Charlie gets up and runs at me like a bull in a china shop. On instinct, I bob and weave, using up all the boxing ring space, escaping his strikes and booting away his kicks.
“What are you doing?” I yell, slapping his face with a loud, WALLOP!
“Training you.” He laughs, catching my next slap and bending my arm back.
“Ouch!” I sidekick behind his knee, knocking him over. He pulls me down with him. We fall with a bounce.
Rolling away, I leap to my feet, fisting and flexing my hands. Charlie merely takes his time getting up, still chuckling.
“What the hell are you laughing at?”
He gestures up and down my body with a steady hand, the smuggest grin on his face.
“I don't need any training from you, Charlie.” I point at him in anger. “I could keep up with you in my sleep.”
“Yeah, maybe you're right, but you're not focused when it comes to Maksim.”
I'm fuming.
“If Maksim says something-aargh!” I whack away his next punch. “I stop on instinct!” I don't mean to yell this so passionately, but I do.
We go back and forth like this for ages, Charlie really trying to put me down, chasing me around the ring. I'm dripping in sweat, and I'm glad that he is too, though he looks in his element.
I'm not.
This is supposed to be a friendly, right?
He swipes for my face with brutal force.
“Aargh!” I seize his arm, yank him forward, and shove his face into the boxing ring, my knee between his shoulder blades. “I thought you said you wouldn't punch me?” I say angrily in his ear. “Are you trying to make me really hurt you?”
He flips over and manages to pin me under him, putting us face to face. “I assumed you'd want me to keep up with the pace.”
My heart picks up a beat. I can smell him... the sweaty, soapy fragrance of his skin... and the way he's looking at me... It's raw.
“Yeah, I do want you to keep up with the pace.” I knee him where it hurts because I need to put some space between us.
“Awh!” He doubles over, cupping his crotch with both hands, pressing his face into the floor. “Fuck, Blaire!”
I roll away from him and stand, panting so hard that my chest is on fire. No one has ever put me so out of breath.
His ripped back is glistening in sweat, his muscles bunching as he tenses in agony. I lick my lips, imagining what his skin tastes like, feeling that heavy desire form in the pit of my core.
“You can't just do that in a friendly,” Charlie hisses.
Putting my hands on my hips, I say, “Stop trying to talk me under your influence then.”
I know what he's doing. He's trying to mentally bond us. I'm not stupid.
He shakes his head, taking in easy, controlled breaths. I actually start to feel a little guilty. Did I go too far with hitting him in the balls?
“Are you all right?” I kneel down beside him and softly touch his side. “Charlie?”
Making me squeak, he grabs my arm and yanks me under him again, settling between my legs with heavy force.
I cannot stop myself from gasping out. He's only wearing sports shorts and the thin material doesn't exactly hide how big he is.
“Charlie...” I husk out his name, gripping his solid forearms.
His eyes are level with mine, dark blue because his pupils are large. “Now, how would you escape me? You can't kick me in the nuts this time.”
I dig my nails into the insides of his elbows but he twists out of my catty grasp. He grabs my wrists and heaves them up above my head, stretching me out.
“And now?” he says in
my face.
We're nose to nose, watching each other, and he's smirking, his eyes glittering like blue crystals.
“I'd head-butt you,” I whisper, slowly blinking at him.
He doesn't say anything for a while, just keeps me pinned under him, making me feel vulnerable and small. The expression on his face is tight with control but burning with want.
“And now?” he says eventually, pressing his damp forehead to mine.
Oh, shit-it.
I tense my stomach, trying to manage this rage inside me. I'm not sure if it's anger or desire or both. They seem to be blurring into one.
“What would you do now, Blaire?”
I kiss him.
Out of the blue—and I'm sure I've lost my damn mind—I push my chin forward and I kiss his soft lips.
The kiss moves through my body like waves of electricity, making me throb like crazy between my legs.
With a deep moan, Charlie thaws against me, closing his eyes. His grip on my wrists loosens, so I use the heel of my left foot to turn us over, putting him under me.
“That's what I'd do, Charlie.” Straddling him with my thighs, I gently slap his face, feeling uncharacteristically playful. “I think I win this round too.”
He sits up faster than lightning and slams his lips to mine. I squeal, trying to push him away with my hands on his damp, hairy chest—I only wanted to distract him so I could prevail, I think.
He catches my hands and bends them behind my back, having me whimper in pain.
“Ouch, Charlie!” I screw up my face. “My arms!”
He doesn't care.
Moaning, he licks across my tongue, massaging mine with slow seduction, crushing my breasts to his chest. I groan unwillingly, sinking into him, losing all focus. I think I even close my eyes.
We're not supposed to be doing this!
“You're a little fucking tease,” he says harshly.
“And you're a cheat,” I say too softly, making him laugh.
Tilting his head and curving his lips around mine, he takes me in an extremely passionate kiss, our mouths shaping as one, inundated with saliva and sweat and the metallic flavor of his blood.
I know I should keep fighting him off, but I don't. I can't. The kiss is satisfying.
He kneads the inside of my wrists with his thumbs and an odd sense of relief washes over me, like he’s tapping into my pressure points or something. I sob in his mouth with fervor, and the more he kneads my inner wrists, the quicker my anger and my worry about the way he was attacking me vanishes. All I can think about is having him.
The way I'm sitting on his lap is provoking too, his hard cock just touching my throbbing clit, only scraps of material between us. I cannot move out of the way he's holding me, yet I can move my hips, and if I shift forward just an inch, I'll be sitting in the hot zone.
I fight not to fulfill my desire to rub against him. I fight with all the will that I have left, which isn't much—Charlie is slowly but surely making sure of that. He's making me spiral out of control.
A phone starts ringing from across the gym, causing me to jump in my skin. My eyes flutter open. I try to yank back from Charlie, but he snaps, “Ignore it,” his grip on my arms at my back tightening.
“I need to go have a shower,” I say over our kiss, going all funny inside when he pushes his tongue in my mouth again.
“Ignore it,” he whispers, softer now, pecking a kiss to my lips before consuming me again.
I whine, my will now evaporated, and I indulge him for one more kiss—it's not like I can stop this, is it?
Charlie lets go of my arms, I assume because he can sense that I'm into this, and before he can do anything, I'm swathed around his neck, trapped in an erratic, lusty haze. I've no idea what the fuck I'm doing. I'm just doing it.
The kiss turns wild now, his lips becoming more urgent and aggressive, making mine swell. He cradles the back of my head in one hand and the curve of my ass in his other, shifting me up his lap so we're flush against each other, sitting me right on top of his erection. It's all heady... the flavor of his blood... his sweaty fragrance... His sweat seems to have magnified his scent. It's all I can think about, until he moves under me, rolling his hips, rubbing his bulging cock against my sex.
My veins charge with fire and I cling to him so desperately, raking my nails down his back, moaning like I'm in pain or something.
The phone is ceaseless, ringing over and over again, all but shattering the moment.
Charlie curses. I can feel his anger on the surface of his skin.
“Go... go answer it,” I say in puffs of breath, panting in his mouth.
He's not sure for a moment, his face taut with deliberation, then he bites out, “Fuck...”
Gripping my hips in large hands, he stands with effortlessness and puts me on shaky legs. I'm dizzy and flush, blinking through my haze. When I tilt my head back, I see Charlie's cheeks are flush too, his eyes unfocused and glowing with arousal.
“You all right?” He scans my face, his eyes dancing between my eyes and my swollen mouth.
A little embarrassed, I nod, dropping my gaze to the floor between us. Even unfocused, his burning blue eyes are too intense.
“Good.” He shocks me with another gentle kiss, leaning down and pecking my lips. “Wait here.”
I nod again, but when he turns his back on me, it breaks the spell.
My lungs fill with hot air and I realize what I've just done...
...After I fought to have the power over my body, I just kissed him?
Fuck.
This is so fucked up.
He stole me away from my life—from Maksim. He used me to satisfy his own perverse needs without any regard for what I wanted...
Holding my face in both hands, I duck out of the boxing ring and sprint across the gym for the exit doors. One second I can hear Charlie yelling, “Who the fuck helped her leave The Site?” And the next he's calling my name, telling me to wait.
I ignore him with all the will I have and rush upstairs to my room, baffled with myself.
Why did I do that?
I pace my bedroom, stewing over what the hell has come about me.
Three days I've been here with Charlie. Just three fucking days, and I've gone from being a strong, mentally disciplined combatant, to a slut? The only person I should ever want like this is Maksim, but I don't.
It makes me sick. I don't get it. I just don't understand how this can happen, and so quickly.
I once read somewhere, 'the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it. I can resist everything but temptation'. Is that true? Is that what I need to do? If I give in to wanting Charlie, will it fix me?
I'm not sure. I know nothing of what's happening here.
I wish Maksim had prepared me for things like this, because if he did, I wouldn't be so mystified.
———
I bury myself in a book to take my mind off things and when it’s mid afternoon, the sun hovering between high and low in the sky, I go downstairs, hungry from working out. I'm hoping to avoid Charlie but of course, there's no avoiding him. He's in the kitchen, on the phone by the back doors, wearing jeans and a black round neck t-shirt, his hair tied back. He's almost as tall as the back doors, his shoulders broad and his waist narrow, blocking the view over the garden.
“So she's in Europe then?” he says in Spanish, and I stand there on the threshold with a familiar tightness in the low of my stomach.
I shake my head, frustrated with myself. His presence alone fucks with my chi and he hasn't even looked at me yet.
Trying to keep my shit together, I open the fridge. There are pork medallions and fresh chilled asparagus, and on the kitchen countertop there's a bowl of potatoes.
Busying myself, I rummage through the cupboards to gather the utensils I need. I peel and cut up the potatoes so I can boil them for mash. I then fill a stainless steel saucepan with water and set the stove ring on medium, gently dropping in the potatoes.
&nb
sp; “Why did you rush off this morning?” Charlie says from beside me, glancing over everything.
My chest constricts.
“I called for you to wait.”
Swallowing down my anxiety, I keep my eyes trained on the task at hand. “I had to have a shower.”
“You smelt all right to me.” He pinches a stick of asparagus from the side and nips off the end. “You're cooking...” he says between bites
“Yeah.” I rinse off my hands. “Are you hungry? I can make some for you too?” The least I can offer is to cook for him. It is after all his house and his ingredients, and he could just as easily not feed me properly.
He leans back against the kitchen units. “This, is something I never expected to see.”
“What?” I dry my hands and hang the towel back over the sink.
“You, cooking.” Charlie smirks at me, mischief glittering in his eyes.
“I'm not an idiot. Of course I can cook.”
“I never said you were an idiot,” he says, popping the rest of the asparagus into his mouth. He then says something about me being into sports and... I don't know. I'm not paying attention. I'm watching him eat, my eyes focused on his mouth as he chews that piece of asparagus. He's so mesmerizing. Everything he does is executed with surety, not an ounce of hesitation in his movements.
The longer I look at his mouth, the quicker my thoughts divert. I remember our kiss this morning all too vividly; the way he groaned in my mouth; the way he crushed me against his hard body as though he couldn't get me close enough.
Charlie raises his eyebrows at me and I blink away in a fluster. Why the fuck do I fancy him so much? Is this normal?
Using a colander, and trying to ignore Charlie standing there, I set the asparagus to boil, then I oil a frying pan for the medallions.
“Here, I'll do that.” He takes the frying pan handle, grabbing it over my hand.
I snatch away from him, determined not to go there again.
He smiles coolly at me before seasoning the pork with salt and pepper and some herbs, his motions smooth and confident.
“I don't mind cooking if you're busy, Charlie.”
“No. You're my guest,” he says. “I don't want you cooking.”