Moved (#Wattys2014)

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

I was up before Racer knocked on my door.  In yoga pants and a tank top, I stood in my living room stretching.  The last few sessions with Racer left me sore and bruised.  Well, mostly sore.  I hoped stretching would help with that.

When he knocked, I opened the door with a smile.  He didn’t offer one in return.  His eyes slid from my gaze and slowly traveled down, stopping at my shoes.  All the while, a faint blush crept into his cheeks.

“We’ll do a lesson later.”  He turned and tromped down the steps without another word.  I frowned after him.  He came up here just to tell me never mind?  I closed the door slowly.  What the hell was I supposed to do now?  Why couldn’t we do a lesson this morning?  It’s not like he actually did anything else.

With a scowl, I yanked open my door went downstairs.  His apartment door stood ajar.  I didn’t bother calling his name, though.  The faint thump of music reached my ears.

I walked out to the shed.  The door there wasn’t latched either.  I eased it open and saw Racer hitting the bag with deadly force.  Mounted floor to steel beam on the ceiling, the bag couldn’t swing away from his brutal beating.  Muscles rolled and coiled under his shirt with each strike.  He shifted his weight from foot to foot in rhythm with his punches.  I didn’t move.  I watched his beautiful dance, not missing a thing.  A tiny seed of heat sprouted in my stomach and slowly spread outward, filling me.  I wanted to stay there forever and just stare, to take in everything.

Sweat started to dampen his shirt.  He paused for half a second, grabbed the hem, and pulled it off.  The muscles over his ribs rippled as he reached to toss it aside.  He started pummeling the bag again.  Skin glistened.  I forgot everything.

When he finally stopped and turned to pick up his shirt, I had no idea how much time had passed.  My feet hurt, though, so I figured I’d been standing awhile.  He paused when he caught sight of me.  I had the grace to blush but kept my eyes on his.

“Why no lesson this morning?”  A dry rasp coated my words.  I just couldn’t help it.

He narrowed his eyes on me as he stalked forward.  “I’m not here to entertain you.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Are we seriously back to this?  I’m not here to be a prisoner.”

“Fine.”  He tossed his shirt aside, and my eyes widened as he came at me.

I ducked under his arm and half rolled out of the way, coming up to my feet with a quick bounce.

He circled me, annoyance on his face.

“I just asked why,” I said, skirting the mat, trying to avoid him.

He darted in.  His hands almost wrapped around my waist.  I turned and dove to the side.  His fingers curled around my ankle.  I kicked out with my other foot and grazed the side of his head.  His eyes darkened.

Twisting, I kicked again, aiming for his hand.  He grunted and let go when I connected.  On my hands and knees, I scrambled away from him then sprang to my feet.  Spinning, I didn’t even have time to focus on him before I landed on my back with a thud.  Racer lay on top of me.  Sweaty, shirtless Racer.

Each breath wheezed in and out of me while he remained breathing easy.  I eyed him.  His annoyance faded, replaced by a quiet study of my features.  His dark eyelashes pulled me into his blue gaze.  His chest and legs heated my already sweaty, and suddenly tingling, skin.  He didn’t move, and I wondered if he was enjoying the sensation, too.

My gaze drifted to his parted lips.  The tingles invaded my stomach as I stared.  I wanted more than friends.  I’d wanted a taste of the real Racer since I took that picture of him.  I lifted my head fractionally, giving into the urge.