Heartless Legacy (Heartless Heirs of Canyon Falls #4)

96. Thea

Chapter 96

Thea

P ax is in my gym. He’s got two perfectly acceptable gyms to himself on campus, but he’s at Wolfe Pack. My gym, in my ring, with my Tank. I’m scowling at the both of them as I approach the ring.

Tank takes one look at my face, and jerks his head towards the wall where Wolfe is standing, as if to say take it up with him . Oh, I will be.

“Why is he here?” I ask, walking over to Wolfe.

“For the same reason, everyone else is. To train.”

I unzip my jacket, dropping it on the floor. “Why is he training here? In my gym?”

Wolfe looks down at me, that sinful mouth curling on the sides in an almost irresistible smirk.

“When did this become your gym? Did I miss a change of ownership or something?”

“I’ve been working out here. I was here first. He’s got a campus and a mansion gym he can use. Tank and this gym are all I have.”

Wolfe says, “I could argue you have an entire compound of people to spar with.”

“I’m your girlfriend.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“This is your gym.”

“It is, but I still don’t understand how that makes it yours.”

Is he intentionally being obtuse? Or does he really not understand how this works? “You’re mine.”

His lips quirk again. Leaning down, he asks, “Are you saying that you own me, so you feel you have some ownership in this gym?”

“I have an interest in the success of this gym and the superior clientele we let patronage it.”

“Couldn’t Paxton Cox be considered superior clientele?”

“No. He’s the wrong person to be here. This gym is for everyday people who are serious about training.”

Wolfe chuckles, “Relax, Thea. He’s here on a trial run for Tank. I’m trying to find someone else to spar with him, since his current partner is moving. With Pax being a southpaw, this helps me prepare him for his next fight, which happens to be with a leftie.”

I blink, digesting his words. “You asked Pax to come here?”

“I did.”

“For Tank.”

“Exactly. Tank winning his fight is the best way to advertise what a great program we have here at the gym. And if I could get you on a fight ticket, it would double our exposure.” He turns me around, his hand slipping down my back to my ass, which he gives a gentle but firm squeeze. “Off to the treadmill you go.”

“Are you suggesting my ass is squishy?”

“I love this ass. I want to bite it and kiss it, and slip my dick between it. But these are training hours, and your training session always starts with the treadmill.”

Grumbling, I head over to my machine. I still hate the treadmill, but I’m also secretly glad that he still makes me get on it. I’m getting my endurance back up, and when I can run for five miles again without feeling like I’m dying, I get to go to one of the Phoenix Foundation’s weekend war games. It’s two days of obstacle courses and capture the flag on a tropical island. The next one is this summer and I’m determined to qualify for a spot.

As I up the incline on my treadmill, I think back over the change in my feelings for the organization. What started out as a begrudging willingness to work with them as a means to an end has turned into something more. I actually like the people I’ve come in contact with. They do some shady shit for the government, just like Andor Reese, but I also know their side business is to help people who have nowhere else to turn, with a side of vigilante justice.

I’ve been thinking of ways they could be useful in the archaeology field, outside of the security segment. I could actually use their fancy equipment and radars to research potential dig sites and locate missing artifacts stolen from war-torn civilizations.

I’m obviously getting ahead of myself. I won’t be able to do any of that until I finish with the threat here. Malcolm’s presence feels suffocatingly close today, since I’m being forced to watch his son spar.

I understand Wolfe has him here for Tank, but it feels like he’s intruding on this place. Like he’s taking it and making it another one of his places, which means I won’t have anywhere to train that hasn’t been tainted by him. I grumble to myself as I start a slow jog. I don’t just rock up to Vale Tower and use their gym.

My face splits into a smile and I up the speed on the treadmill. I know how to fix this.

I take pleasure in seeing the shocked look on Pax’s face when he walks into the gym. Now he knows how I’ve felt all week. I keep my breathes even, my gait smooth as I run on the treadmill. Just because I’m working out here doesn’t mean I should skip steps in the routine Wolfe has created for me, even though I want to.

When my fifteen minute warm up ends, I head over to the weight rack and start my reps. My biceps are popping out and it’s not because I’m still emaciated. I’ve been putting on a steady amount of weight and muscle. Wolfe’s been strict about my nutrition, and has the patience of a saint. Actually, no, he doesn’t. He’s the most impatient person I’ve ever met. He’s got a low threshold for idiocy and is quickly irritated by students. So I guess that means he’s only patient with me, which makes him top tier in my book; because I am not, have not and will not, ever be an easy person to love. Which he does. He said it while buried deep inside me, but I don’t doubt his sincerity. His actions show it over and over again.

I finish my circuit on the weights and go to the ring to work on my footwork, watching myself in the mirror to make sure my form is correct. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle from the weight of Pax’s stare. A light sheen of sweat coats my skin.

I unzip my jacket. The cool air pebbles my nipples in my sports bra. I ignore that distracting bit of biology and settle deeper into my fighting stance. After a few more reps, I progress to kicks. They’re sloppy as hell, but my core strength is stronger and I’m starting to regain my balance.

Pax steps into the ring, leaning against the ropes watching me. Probably fixing his mouth to say some shit about my kicks. If he does, I’m pretty sure I can hold my balance long enough to kick him in the mouth. Or the dick. Either one should shut him up.

Just as I’ve convinced myself that standing there ogling me is all he’s going to do, he opens his mouth. I plant my feet and do what I told myself I’d do. I kick at him. I’m off balance. My roundhouse barely makes it to his chest, so I settle for his stomach. It lacks power, but it’s enough to catch him off guard and push him to the side.

He regains his balance and says, “That was a cute little baby kick. You looked like a newborn goat trying to find her legs.”

Cute, like a goat? I wasn’t that wobbly. I go for a spinning back kick, but he catches my foot and shoves me away. I hop a few times before regaining my footing. The asshole just laughs at me. “I don’t know what that was, but I don’t recommend you try it again unless you want to end up on your face.”

You know what? Being civilized isn’t working. Aiming so high is a mistake. I resort to good old basics, walk up to him and knee him in the nuts. I pat him on the head when he bends over and sneer, “Bet you recognize that move.”

I jump out of the way when he reaches for me, but I’m not quick enough to get completely clear of his big ass hands. He has a grip on my jacket, which I shrug off and dart to the other end of the ring. He’s glaring at me when he finally recovers enough to stand.

“That was a cheap shot, Nem.”

“Awe, does your little dick have a boo-boo?”

“You know how not little it is. But yes, it has a boo-boo. How about you come over here and kiss it to make it better?”

“If my lips are anywhere near it, I’ll bite it off.” I threaten, reminding him of my reputation of doing just that.

“Teeth aren’t always bad, but it sounds like you need a lesson on how and when to use them.”

I shift to my right, because he’s moving on his left. We circle the ring and each other, slow inch by slow inch. Then, like a viper, he springs at me. I narrowly miss his attack.

I throw up my hands to block his punch and he ducks, avoiding mine. We go back and forth, and I feel my body falling into a rhythm. Into the familiarity of his fighting style, but it’s also different from what I remember. He’s adopted a different stance, some new punches.

My muscles bunch and strain. I’m out of breath trying to find an opening. He’s determined not to give me one. We retreat to opposite sides of the ring, eyeing each other with animosity. The air is fraught with tension, then the band snaps, and we’re propelled forward.

We connect with snarling lips and vicious bites. He sweeps my legs and I grab his shoulders, rolling with the momentum, forcing him to fall with me. I land on top of him, and use my knees to pin his arms to his sides, and push against his shoulders to keep him in place.

Staring down at him, I study his face and listen to the thumping in my ears. I take note of that restless buzz still under the surface of my skin. I know exactly what I need to take the edge off. I reach between us with my left hand. The move catches him completely off guard.

I don’t have time for coy or games. I squeeze and pump his shaft, dragging my nails across it. He grits his teeth, but he doesn’t tell me to stop. I shove my pants off and spin around so my back is to him. I don’t need to see his face for this. I pull him out enough to handle my business. He doesn’t move or speak. That’s fine by me too.

I move slowly, getting used to the feel of him, rubbing my clit, making myself wetter. My walls clench around nothing as I drag back and forth across his length. I rock my hips, grinding against him, and close my eyes as I find a rhythm. I palm my breasts, squeezing and plucking my nipples through my bra and razorback tank. My head falls back with a moan as the sensation rolls through me.

One of his hands comes up to replace mine, the other one settles against my shoulder. I lean away, but he follows. “You think you’re just gonna block out that this cock you’re dripping all over is attached to me?”

“That’s the plan.” I huff, shrugging his hand off of me.

“Your plan is shit. If you wanna get off with my dick, you’re gonna recognize me as the person wrecking this pussy.”

I snort at his assessment. “It’s far from wrecked.”

He growls against my ear, “It will be by the time I’m done with it.”

I turn back around to face him, pushing him back against the floor. “No talking, asshole.” I say, pulling my panties to the side and climbing onto his face. I grip his hair as I arrange myself over his mouth. “You just lay there and let me mess up this pretty face.” I roll my hips. “Get to it. Big guy. Clean the plate.”

He complies, fingering me as he laps and sucks at me. I buck against him, mindless to the sensation. He is just so damn good at it. I’m not ready to cum yet. I want it to last. I pull back, but he grips my hip, holding me in place with one hand. The other plunges two thick fingers into me from behind. He hums against my clit. The sensation is almost too much and yet not enough.

A sound in the hallway causes me to jump. I fling myself off of Pax, looking to the door for the source of the noise. I don’t see anything, but the distraction is enough to break through the fog and show me just how stupid my actions were. It’s one thing to come here and fight him. But if we get caught doing this. If I get caught doing this. It’s just asking for more trouble.

“Nem.”

I dodge his hand when he reaches for me as I yank leggings back on, grab my phone, and push through the glass doors. Avoiding the elevator, I use the stairs to exit the building, berating myself on the jog to my dorm, for losing my head the way I did.