Sweet Torture: An Alpha Billionaire Romance
Page 4
It's not that I'm old at thirty-six, if I do say so myself, but some would consider me an old soul. No matter how many times I tried to meet a woman my age, we just never seem to find common ground. I’m ready to settle down, to be honest. I want a stable home, a wife whom I would cherish, and a kid or two. I want all of that, but with the right person. I've had relationships in the past but they usually ended in a complete disaster given my line of work. No woman wants to be with a man who may not come back from his next deployment. At least none of the women I've met.
I sigh as I watch the girl on the treadmill. She's too young to even think about kids and playing house. What am I even thinking? This is not going anywhere.
I suddenly feel anger rise as I lift the heavy dumbbell over my head.
No, I can't leave it like this.
I have to get to know her.
Chapter 2
Natalie
Fucking hell, I hate gyms.
I hate, hate, hate working out. I am not made for this shit. My boobs are sweaty, I feel muscles pull at my left leg and I'm pretty sure my face is as red as my hair.
Why did I sign up for this? Ah, that's right. I heard one of the consultants at the clothes boutique call me fat.
I was in such a good mood after sending my client her final photos. She replied to me saying that it was her best experience with photographers so far, and given I mostly do boudoir shoots, that says a lot. I decided to treat myself with something more high-end. I was shopping for jeans at a trendy boutique and I asked what size should I try on because that wasn't the brand I'd normally go for. As I was looking through the display, I heard the girl whisper to her partner, "Look at that cow! She thinks she'll find her size here. Should I just tell her to maybe lay off the junk food and come back in a year or two?" They both giggled, very well aware that I've heard them. I don't usually let that type of behaviour slide, but suddenly I felt so bad about myself that I stormed out of that store and never looked back.
So now I'm sweating my ass off at the nearest gym, hoping it would help me feel good again. Like I'm at least trying to do something nice for my body. I wouldn't call myself fat per se, but I agree that I'm more on the curvy side. I have tits, the bane of my back's existence, and I also have a lot of booty. I usually like the way I look but there are some days when I wish I were thinner.
Being a redhead with big breasts usually call for a lot of unwanted attention, especially from men. I am painfully shy in some situations, but I'll never let inappropriate behaviour slide.
Just as I turn off the treadmill, I feel hairs on my neck stand. I frown at the feeling and carefully assess the situation around me. There aren't a lot of people here, given it's almost ten-thirty in the evening, and it seems like everyone is minding their own business.
But as soon as I lift my eyes to look at the huge wall mirror, I catch the most brilliant dark eyes roam my face and body. I can't stop staring.
Holy fuck, the man is hot.
He is not just big, he is huge. Power oozes from him as I teach my body how to breath again. That never happened to me. I look at his strong and muscular built, the veins bulging on his tattooed forearms, his chiseled face with dark stubble, those whiskey-coloured eyes and dark shaggy hair.
Oh my god, he is perfection.
I meet his gaze and it's like the world around me stops. The man gives me a knowing grin, and I look away embarrassed that he caught me ogling him.
I blink twice and shake my head a little, trying to clear the fog clouding my brains. I feel my cheeks heat up as I grab my water bottle and towel, heading to the leg machine.
He surely wasn't looking at me. I must've blocking his view or something. Men like him don't give me heated stares. They prefer super fit girls with tight bellies and long legs. A.K.A not me.
Although, it would be nice to photograph him at my studio. I would make those tattoos of his stand out and show off his physique in the best way possible.
I sigh at my own thoughts. Why can't I just be a normal woman and go talk to him?
Nah, that's too easy.
I'd rather think about how his beautiful body and face would look like in my photos. I imagine him naked, maybe even oiled up to show off every ridge and muscle.
I was so deep in my x-rated thoughts, that I didn't even realize I was still doing my exercise until my leg muscle pulls so badly I let out a yelp.
"Holy crap! This hurts!" I curse as I stumble to the floor with a loud thud and a clink from the machine.
"Hey, are you okay?" I hear a deep, hoarse voice behind me.
I gape at the handsome hotness as he crouches down to take a look at my leg, "I-I think I'm fine. Just a sprained muscle, I think."
His liquid eyes look into mine and I melt right on the spot. He has hazel spots in them. Oh god, those are the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen in my life.
"Let me see," he says calmly, still looking at me.
"Huh?" I frown.
"Let me see your leg. I want to make sure it's just a sprain," he drags his palm up my calf and past my knee and I swear I'm about to combust.
"Are you a doctor or something?" I ask in confusion, letting out a small gasp when his fingers reach my thigh.
He chuckles and the sound is music to my ears, "Or something. Let's say I have an extensive experience with body traumas."
I blink in confusion and he smiles, "Ex-military."
Ah, this makes sense.
And his body of a Greek god makes sense now, too.
"I'm sure it's nothing," I whisper and try to get up but let up a yelp when a sharp pain sliced through my thigh again.
I feel strong arms wrap around my waist and in a beat of a second, I'm up in the air in his arms.
"W-what are you doing?" I cling to him, and suddenly I catch his scent. It's so masculine, something musky, woodsy and mixed with a sheen of sweat on his skin. I struggle not to let my eyes roll at the back of my head, it's that incredible.
"You are not in the state to continue training. The best thing for you now is to go home and take a hot bath to help your muscles relax." He looks down at me and all I see is pure burning desire.
I nod and see that he's taking me to the women's locker room. "I'll take it from here," I mutter, "Thank for your help."
He lowers me down on my two feet and I wince a little. "What's your name, beautiful?"
I blush as his fingers trace my palm, "Natalie."
"Natalie," his voice is hoarse and deep, "I'm Carter."
"Nice to meet you, Carter." I taste his name on my tongue and I see his Adam's apple bob up and down.
"The pleasure is all mine, beautiful." He smiles seductively and I shiver at the thought of what those full lips could do to my body.
I give him a smile and slip into the locker room. I lean my whole body against the door and let out a huge breath, "Holy shit." The man is not only gorgeous, but he is also clearly caring and gentle. I wish I had more courage to ask for his number. I think he might be actually interested in me if his heated stare is anything to go by.
Don't be silly, Nat. Look at him and look at yourself.
I shush the nagging voice inside my head and limp to my locker to get my stuff. I don't have the strength to shower. I just want to go home and take that hot bath my handsome rescuer talked about.
I wish I could take it with him.
Maybe I will someday.
Sigh.
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About the Author
Anne R. Boyden is an emerging author of steamy romance novels, who specializes in insta-love, over-the-top, cheesy love stories that don’t take an eternity to read. From firefighters to bad boys, the heroes are al
pha and the heroines are curvy, funny and independent. Guaranteed Happily Ever After!
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