The Winner Takes All (Complete Collection)

14. The Fly Machine

14

THE FLY MACHINE

Zane

The second I got his message, I flew out of bed. I’m such a sucker for sweat.

And shorts.

And, well, Maddox.

The chance to check him out while he’s pumping iron had me racing to join him. I brushed my teeth, yanked on workout clothes, and ran downstairs.

I’m parked on the weight bench, lifting dumbbells, when he pushes open the door. After a glance around the empty gym, his gaze latches on mine. A smile tips his lips. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

He sounds psyched. Join the club.

“Oh, did you want the private gym that I reserved for the next hour all to your lonesome? I can leave,” I say, setting the weights on the floor.

He shakes his head. “Stay.”

I nod. Maddox surveys the small gym, home to a few pieces of cardio equipment, several sets of weights, some benches, a pair of yoga balls, and a handful of bands. “Thanks again. I appreciate you letting me crash your gym session. I try to stay on track with exercise as I travel, so I wanted to get a workout in.”

I can barely concentrate on the words coming out of his sexy lips because of his athletic wear. The shorts live up to the name, but they’re also deliciously snug. That black T-shirt he’s wearing hugs his pecs.

I thought I liked him in ties and tailored shirts. But this is next level.

I drop to the edge of the bench, pushing my palms against it, doing triceps dips. “You know what I’d appreciate?”

“What’s that?”

I tip my chin toward the elliptical. “If you got on that machine now, so I could watch your tight ass the whole damn time.”

I guess I’m frisky in the mornings. Go figure. Or maybe I’m frisky around this man.

His smile is devilish. “Well, that didn’t last long.”

“What?” I ask with a frown.

“Your promise not to hit on me at the gym,” he says.

“Oh. Huh. I did say that,” I say on another dip. “But then I remembered the three things that make me happiest. Baseball, sex, and flirting with you. Not gardening .”

“Far be it from me to deny your happiness,” he says.

I pop up on the bench, tipping my forehead to his attire. “Also, those shorts are gonna be lodged in my reptile brain for a long, long time.”

Maddox peers down at them, laughing. “I’ve noted your gym clothes preferences,” he says, tapping his temple. “But there’s a flaw in your elliptical plan for me.”

“What’s that?”

He shrugs slyly. “I already did cardio. I ran for thirty minutes on the streets.”

Even better. “Then why don’t you come over here and I’ll spot you?”

“I don’t normally need a spotter,” he says as he strides over to me then sets his phone on the floor.

I rake my gaze over him from head to toe. “I don’t normally invite guys I like to my building’s private gym,” I counter.

“Oh yeah?” He settles in at the weight bench, and his lips quirk up. He likes that intel. A lot .

“Just you.” I move behind the bench, adjusting the barbell as he lies down. With dark eyes, he looks up at me then wraps his strong hands around the bar and lifts. He lowers it, then pushes up again, grunting slightly.

My chest rumbles. That sound .

When he hits ten reps, he sits up, breathing hard. “Your turn,” Maddox says, and I adjust the barbell, adding more plates, then we switch.

As I lie down on the bench, I gaze at him standing behind me. He’s not watching the bar, though. His eyes travel up and down my frame. He seems to catch himself and blinks, recalibrating. “I’m ready,” he says, hoarsely.

“You mean you’re done checking me out?” I goad.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be done with that.” It comes out serious. Intense.

My dick hardens. Great, now I’m bench-pressing with a boner. I’m a world-class idiot. But you know what? I don’t fucking care, because the man I want is here with me, getting sweaty.

We move through chest presses, lateral raises, upright rows. As Maddox levers the weights for a triceps extension, a bead of sweat slicks down his neck. I groan low in the back of my throat.

Maybe he hears me, because he dips his face, hiding the start of a smile.

Damn. This man makes me smile too. The fact that he showed up here makes my whole week. “So, you’re such a rules guy you just had to do weights today,” I muse as I begin dead lifts.

“I like lifting,” he says as he picks up the twenty-pounders.

“You’d have been a wreck if you missed arm day,” I tease.

“Muscles don’t make themselves,” he says drily.

I roll my eyes, laughing. “Just say it. You fucking came here for me.”

He laughs wickedly. “You cave easily. It didn’t take long at all for you to change tactics.”

“So you admit it then,” I press.

“I never didn’t admit it,” he corrects, then sets down the dumbbells and heads to the chest fly machine.

“Bet you had flies on your to-do…” I can’t finish.

The view. The fucking view fries my brain as Maddox parks his fine ass on the machine and spreads his legs.

My breath hisses.

I stop mid-lift. It’s impossible to look away as he grabs the machine’s handles and slowly pulls his arms toward the center of his chest. On each release, his arms stretch as wide as they can, leaving him vulnerable, bound by the machine.

“Maddox,” I groan. “Don’t move.”

He complies, holding the spread as if I’d tied him down, arms strapped to the sides of a bed. His eyes flicker with burning intensity. “I won’t move,” he says in a filthy bedroom promise of…submission.

I lower the weights, stalk over so I’m facing him, and set my hands on the handles. “I didn’t ask you here to seduce you,” I confess, meeting his eyes.

He breathes out hard, rough. “Are you going to, though?”

“I want to.” Permission matters, so I ask the next question very deliberately. “Can I?”

“Yes.”

That first yes cranks my engine, but there’s more I need to know. Desires we’ve only touched on. “You like this position? In bed? You like being tied up? Held down? Bound?”

His eyes are wide, flickering with vulnerability. Is this hard for him to admit? I fucking hope he’s comfortable sharing his wants with me. Then, heat flashes in his irises as he answers confidently, “Yes.”

I want to clutch his yes , carry it with me all day, all night. I want to tuck his consent in my pocket and savor it. His wishes are beautiful. That they match mine is a goddamn gift. “That’s what I want too,” I say, opening myself up as well, meeting his desires with my own.

“I had a feeling,” he says, deliciously sarcastic.

I’m standing, and he’s sitting, immobile, held in place by the machine and me. “Pick a safe word,” I say.

“Daquiri,” he says with a wicked grin.

I smile, a dirty kind of bliss running through my body. “Perfect.”

Then, his smile burns off. His dark gaze swings to his right hand, then his left. It’s an invitation. “You’ve got me where you want me. What are you gonna do?” His voice is sandpaper.

Here we are, playing with our fantasies, but acting them out at last. Wrapping my hands tighter around his, I bend closer, my pulse surging as I draw a whiff of the man. There’s barely a hint of that ocean breeze scent this morning. He must have showered late last night, and that soapy smell has faded. He’s all sweaty man now, and his scent lights me up. “I’ve got a million dirty plans for you. But first, I’d probably do something real subtle, like this,” I say, letting go of his right hand to brush my thumb along his chiseled jawline.

“Ohhh,” he murmurs, shutting his eyes, leaning his face into my touch.

“Yeah, that’s right.” I drag my thumb down his throat, along his Adam’s apple.

When he opens his eyes again, I plunge closer, like I’m coming in for a kiss. He parts his lips, asking for one. But I dart away, instead dipping my face to his arm, kissing the soft crook of his elbow. I’m not sure I’ve ever kissed anyone there. But I taste salt, and it sends adrenaline spinning in me.

I kiss down his forearm to his wrists. “These wrists…”

“So many things you could do with them here at a gym. Bands, jump ropes, your shirt,” he suggests.

“My hands work too,” I growl as a fire ignites beneath my skin. I have to taste him. “Tell me to kiss you.”

“Kiss me,” he says, like a plea.

I lean in and capture his lips. I go wild at the minty morning freshness of his mouth coupled with the faint tang of sweat above his lips. I kiss him deeply, full of a greedy thirst I can’t slake. I take another hit, then I slow the pace, kissing the corner of his lips, jawline, then ear once more. I pull back to meet the gaze of my willing and eager partner, who’s offering himself to me. Our eyes lock and electricity flares between us. “Need more of you. Can I have it?” I ask.

He’s patient, licking his lips as he waits for his moment. Then, with wild desire in his brown eyes, he says, “Give me orders. I’ll follow them.”

My bones vibrate with lust. I’m going to need a minute. Hell, I’m going to need to pace myself to survive sex of any kind with him.

I take a few deep breaths to regain my composure, then uncurl my hands from around his. “Get off the machine.”

He slowly lets go of the handles, stands, then glances at the door.

I go lock it, then turn around. If we move to the corner of the gym, no one can see us through the glass. No one can come in until I unlock it. And one of the best things about my building’s private gym?

It’s exactly that. Private.

No security cameras in sight.

I point to a rack of weights in the corner. “Stand in front of the mirror,” I tell him.

He obeys. I walk to him and stop a foot away, meeting his gaze in the reflection. Then I grab his right wrist, crank it behind his back.

A groan rips from his throat. His mouth falls open in pleasure.

“Yes, fucking yes,” he says.

I slide my left hand down his left arm, thread my fingers through his, then I jerk our arms across his pecs, banding his arm under mine.

He’s at my mercy—just the way he wants.