7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Blaire
I ’m not sure what I expected when I pulled into the lot of Knockout, but now that I’m inside, standing with Ivy, I feel ridiculously out of place. Dallas, Sawyer, Liam, Carter, and Reid are already shirtless, with their hands fitted into boxing gloves. I slide up next to Ivy just as Sawyer climbs into the ring.
“Hey, girl. You ready for this?”
“I honestly don’t know what to expect. Do they just beat the crap out of each other?”
“Sometimes. But they’ve been training since they were teenagers. They’re all pretty good. Especially Sawyer. If he wasn’t in love with the distillery, he’d want to do this for a living.” She gives me a long-dejected look. “I’m glad he’s CEO. Watching him with his brothers is hard enough.” She hip-bumps me and focuses back on the ring.
“Hey, pretty ladies.” Reid walks up to us and leans against one of the large beams in the middle of the floor.
“Don’t let Sawyer hear you say that, Drogo. He’ll drag your ass in there instead of Dallas.”
I laugh. I can’t imagine anyone standing a chance fighting Reid. All of the men are larger than average, but Reid is on a different level. You’d be nuts or have a death wish to fight that man, gloves or no gloves.
“You don’t fight with them?” I ask.
“Nah. I stick to the heavy bag, weights, and running. They’re too smart to fight me, even if they’re trained, they know I’m stronger. Wouldn’t want to break their pretty faces,” he says with a wink.
A laugh escapes me again and I settle in a comfortable place. I adore both of these humans, and I’m happy to be here with them. Even if I am about to watch my extremely sexy bosses pummel each other in a boxing ring.
Dallas walks past us and climbs into the ring to join his brother while Liam and Carter hang back below it. It’s hard to focus on anything but Dallas. He’s wearing a pair of athletic shorts that hang low on his hips and a thin gold chain around his neck, nothing else. It’s clear he works out hard. His body is defined, his muscles rippling over his abs. He has a light dusting of hair over his chest that he keeps trimmed short, but it’s his half-sleeve of tattoos my eyes shoot to next. They define his thick, corded forearms and I want a closer look at them. I can’t help the carnal reaction watching him brings out in me.
Sawyer bounces on his feet, stretching his arms across his body while talking. “You ready, dickhead?”
Dallas cracks his neck and focuses on his brother.
“You’re gonna pay for the shit you pulled.”
“Yeah? Bring it. You learn anything from the day you had today?”
My heart tumbles in my chest. I turn to face Ivy and she cringes, her face transforming to sympathy.
“Wait, this is about me ?”
“Kinda?” She winces. “Their back and forth has been going on long before you. But Sawyer forcing Dallas to work next to you all day set Dallas off.”
God, he is so infuriating. So hot and cold. I can’t stand it. Why does he hate me so much? Then in the next breath, he’s acting like he wants to rip my clothes off.
“Am I that bad?”
“No. God, no! It’s not you. It’s more like, Sawyer flexes his weight and Dallas hates it.”
I suppose that makes sense. Still, I know Dallas despises my position at the distillery and all the changes that come with me being there. It’s hard not to take it personally.
As I watch him in the dimly lit gym, my heart races with a mix of emotions. He frustrates me to a level only he can take it to, but my body responds to him in a primal way. There’s something about him that makes me feel at ease, almost safe . I’m drawn to him even though he drives me insane.
The sight of him sparring with his brother ignites a blazing fire within me, one that I can’t seem to shake. My breathing increases as my heart rate accelerates. The raw aggression and strength from each of his movements draws me in, and I don’t notice that my feet have propelled me forward toward the ring.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Dallas throws a hard punch into Sawyer’s ribs, and I vaguely hear Ivy’s wince behind me. My heart thunders in my chest. Dallas’ body glistens with sweat. His arm pulls back, muscles tightening and flexing, his entire body hyper-focused on his opponent. I never imagined any type of violence could awaken a deep, dark, arousal within me. My core clenches, desperate to be filled, and my panties dampen. The world disappears around me as I take every movement in. Dallas pulls Sawyer in close with his arm hooked around his neck, holding him tight against the ropes. Sawyer swings wildly but the punches are futile against Dallas’ hold.
“Pull them apart. Now, Liam!” Ivy pleads.
Sawyer spins out of Dallas’ hold, twisting quickly. He lands two rapid punches to Dallas’ face that push him back against the ropes, blood leaking from his eyebrow. Reid and Liam climb into the ring and separate them, both men panting. They take a minute to calm down, Liam holding a towel against Dallas’ eye.
Sawyer steps into his twin’s space. “We good?” he asks.
Dallas nods his head in agreement. They hug each other before Sawyer climbs out and picks up Ivy, her legs wrapping around his waist, and his sweaty face buried in her neck. My heart yearns for that. I look back at Dallas, who is still standing in the ring, bouncing on the soles of his feet, shaking his gloved hands at his sides, eyes glued on me. I involuntarily lick my lips, pulling my bottom one into my mouth.
He gives me a knowing smirk before turning to Liam. They do the same thing, gloves touching in the middle before taking a few steps apart and circling each other. Liam is gorgeous. Bigger than all of his brothers, with longer, lighter hair than the rest of them. He could pass for Charlie Hunnam’s look-alike honestly. While I can appreciate his good looks, my body doesn’t seem to have the same reaction to him that it does to Dallas.
“What do you think, B?” Reid comes up next to me, bumping me with his shoulder. I lean my head against his bicep for a moment in a friendly nudge just as Dallas is glancing at me. His momentary lapse in focus gives the perfect opening for Liam. Dallas staggers back from the force of the blows to the side of his face and his ribs. I gasp and cover my mouth.
“He’s fine. Trust me. These boys have been doing this most of their lives. Although it seems Liam is fighting for something today, he’s usually a bit more reserved than this,” Reid reassures me.
It’s only a beat before Dallas regains his control, letting loose on Liam. The power behind each punch is magnified in comparison. He’s feral, his eyes laser-focused. He forces Liam back against the ropes, his hands held up, blocking each punch, his knee coming up to cover his ribs. After what feels like an eternity, Liam shoves Dallas hard, causing him to stumble back.
“The fuck is wrong with you, Dal?” Liam shouts.
“They’re fine. Dallas is just being an asshole.” Reid’s voice reminds me that we’re in public and that I’m not having a normal reaction to watching them fight. I school my features, straightening my spine and putting my composure firmly back in place.
“Of course. They’ve got this. It’s just wild to watch. I don’t know what I was expecting but it surely wasn’t this.”
The brothers share some words that only they can hear for a few moments, hug, and both climb out of the ring, covered in sweat and blood. Reid walks away from me to talk to Liam as Dallas steps into my space.
“Enjoy the show, princess?”
“Ehh. Your brothers sure know how to fight.”
His eyes narrow, his head tilting to the side as he studies me with a cocky, shit-eating grin. He’s reading me like a book.
“You seem a little flustered. Feeling okay?” I want to smack that knowing smirk off his smug face but as his eyes trail over my body, heat flames my face again.
“Nothing I can’t take care of by myself at home.” His eyes widen, his face transforming to unadulterated hunger. I smile sweetly before turning and walking away. I don’t stop until I’m safely in my car and can finally catch my breath.
What is he doing to me?
Once I’m back alone in my apartment I’m still sexually charged. I go about my nighttime routine, washing my face, tying my wild wavy hair up in a silk scrunchie at the top of my head, and pulling my futon down flat. I climb into bed and pull the blankets over me, thoughts of Dallas’ sweaty body working hard while in the ring repeating in my mind.
My fingers trail aimlessly up and down my stomach, circling my soft belly, and between my breasts. Warmth pools between my legs, my core clenching, a deep ache in my lower abdomen. It’s been so long since I’ve been with anyone. It’s hard for me to let all my walls down in order to enjoy sex, so it isn’t something that happens often. Or at all.
My fingers drift down, over my panties, and run along the length of my seam. My hips nearly jolt off the bed. I’m so sensitive, so swollen and needy. Knowing that I need to release this primal pressure within me, I shimmy out of my panties, tossing them to the foot of the bed. My hands cup my large breasts, massaging, pinching, and twisting my nipples, sending shock waves down to my clit. I know that with enough time I could come from this alone.
My eyes close and I let myself go to fantasyland. I’m not surprised when Dallas appears. His sexy, muscular body, sweaty and glistening from his fight. Adrenaline coursing through him with nowhere to go. I slip my fingers easily through my slick center, dipping a finger into my core and pumping a few times before dragging them back up to circle my clit. I imagine it’s Dallas’ tongue instead of my fingers, his mouth feasting on me like I’m his favorite meal and he’ll never get enough. My fingers move back down, slipping two inside, wetness coating them, and my palm rubs firmly on my clit while I fuck myself with my fingers. I imagine Dallas between my legs, licking me into oblivion, my hips grinding on his face, his facial hair rubbing my sensitive skin raw. It’s euphoric. I chase my orgasm, my hips moving in sync with my hand.
“Yes. Yes. Fuuuuck. Dallas!”
I come completely undone, coming to thoughts of my asshole boss’ tongue between my legs.
The rest of the week passes in a blur, and I spend most of my time avoiding Dallas. The tension between us climbed too high at the gym, and after masturbating to the fantasy of him eating me out, I didn’t want to face him, even if I did feel him everywhere I went, and he fucked with me in various ways.
Every day something annoying happened and I know it was him. On Monday, all of the glasses that are usually in the bar for my tastings went missing. On Tuesday, I was double-booked for a tasting and a tour, and on Wednesday during a meeting, Dallas congratulated me on hosting an all-day event scheduled for Thursday for the retirement center’s weekly day trip. Not surprisingly, that event hadn’t been on my schedule until I checked after he brought it up. The worst part was that although every single thing irritated me, the fact that he was spending time trying to get under my skin just made me think of him more.
By the time Friday rolled around, I was exhausted. Walking into my office, I do a double take around the room. Everything has been rearranged. The desk, which was perfectly positioned in front of the large window, is now at the back of the room facing an empty wall with the back of my chair to the door. My shelf has been moved to the front of the window, blocking all of the natural light and the view of the mountains. My plants are missing completely, and instead of the photos I had hung of various famous wedding dresses in magazines, my walls are lined with empty frames.
I’m going to kill him.
Throwing my coat and purse onto my desk, I march down the hallway to his office, pushing right into it without knocking, not giving a damn what could be going on behind the door. Unfortunately, it’s empty. My eyes roam the room as I contemplate how to cut him where it hurts when they land on his precious office chair.
I move quickly, wheeling the chair out of his office and down to the storage closet. Pushing it to the far back behind the shelves, I pull as many boxes down as I can to stack on top of it and keep it covered before closing the door and returning to my office.
“WHERE IS SHE?”
Dallas’ voice echoes through the expanse of our office suite. I laugh lightly under my breath. She. Of course he’d give a female pronoun to an inanimate object whose only purpose is to serve him and keep him comfortable. Asshole. He barges into my office, smoke practically steaming from his ears.
“What did you do with her?”
“I don’t know who you’re referring to. Be more specific, Mr. Hayes.”
“My chair. Gloria. Tell me where she is, Blaire.”
“Do you like my new office layout? I gotta say, not having natural light really makes me appreciate the fluorescents. And having my back to the door? Brilliant, right?”
“Blaire . . .”
“Yes, yes, I know. You don’t like to repeat yourself. But I don’t know where your precious chair is. Go ask one of your brothers.” The lie tastes so sweet on my lips.
He glares wickedly at me, and for a moment, he looks slightly unhinged and I second-guess my decision to steal his beloved chair. He shakes his head at me before storming out of my office.
By the time I get back to my apartment around ten-thirty after spending the entire day and evening getting everything set up for tomorrow’s wedding, I pop a bag of popcorn and collapse onto the futon. Turning on my guilty pleasure movie, Pride and Prejudice , I relax until my phone chimes with an incoming text.
Cole:
Hey pretty lady, how’s it going?
Can’t say I’m fond of that nickname. Cole is nice enough and I know he means well; I just wish my body responded to him the way it does to Dallas. Cole seems like Dallas’ opposite in almost every way. He’s clean-cut, soft-spoken, confident and sure, but also respectful—all qualities I thought I would melt for and be lucky to find in a partner. Dallas is rough around the edges, brash, domineering, stubborn, and has no filter. That shouldn’t turn me on like it does. Especially with the trauma I come packed with.
Me:
Hey
Cole:
How was the rest of your week?
Me:
Entirely too busy trying to make sure Sawyer and Ivy’s wedding is the fairytale they deserve.
Me:
How was yours?
Cole:
Outside of only seeing you once? It went well. Work kept me busy.
Cole:
I’d love to see you again . . .
Maybe this is what I need. To focus on someone else. Cole is sweet and he’d make a good boyfriend, and I honestly should see where this goes. Maybe one more date will give me clarity on whether to see him again or just stay friends.
Cole:
Ouch. Way to leave a guy on read.
Me:
I’m so sorry! It’s not that.
I bite my lip, nervous and unsure if this is a good idea or not.
Me:
Are you free tomorrow? I know it’s short notice . . .
Cole:
Absolutely. Won’t you be at the wedding though?
Cole:
Unless you’re asking what I think you are
Me:
Yes. That’s the thing though. I will technically be working, but you can be my plus-one? Are you comfortable hanging by yourself there while I work?
Cole:
I’d love nothing more than to be your plus-one. I’m sure your boss won’t have an issue with it.
Kind of a weird thing to add in. It doesn’t give me the warm fuzzies, but I try to shake it off.
Me: I’ll send you the details right now. See you tomorrow, Cole.
Cole: Tomorrow. Night pretty lady.
I send him the itinerary before turning my phone on silent for the night and go through my nighttime routine. Once I’ve got my futon laid out and I’m curled up, I work through my mental checklist of everything that needs to get done in the morning in preparation for the wedding. I want this to showcase my work and give Sawyer a reason to be glad that he hired me and trusted me with his own wedding. But most of all, I want to give them memories that will last a lifetime.
I try to stay focused on making sure I’m not forgetting anything, but thoughts of Dallas keep sneaking in. I wish I knew what it was about him that caused my body to react the way it does, and I hope inviting Cole as my plus-one doesn’t cause any issues tomorrow.
Avoiding him this week only made me think of him more. I can’t fight the fact that I crave those piercing blue eyes when he shamelessly checks me out. The way he slowly peruses my body from head to toe when I walk into a room is addictive. No one has ever made me feel good from that kind of attention, and I want more of it. Maybe if I give Cole a chance, those feelings will arise. But something deep within me is whispering that it’s Dallas. Only Dallas.
Sleep comes before I’m ready, and I drift off, hoping like hell the nightmares stay away.