Chapter 60
CHAPTER SIXTY
KILLIAN
Jesus. This woman is trying to kill me. Clearly, I should’ve told her to wear sweat-pants, and a t-shirt.
Instead, she walks in wearing next to nothing—purple boy shorts, and a matching sports bra—leaving so many inches of bare skin.
Her long blonde hair is up in a messy bun, exposing her slender neck, and a small bruise has already begun developing where I bit her.
Why am I turned on by my mark on her skin?
“Twenty minutes of cardio, so you're warmed up. You can choose. Bike, elliptical, or treadmill. It’s all the same.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she gives me an attitude.
“I stretched. I’m fine.”
It is not lost on me that this defiance is only for me. She’s not like this with either of my brothers. Even when she refused their pleas to eat, it was done sweetly.
“Killer, do what you’re told. I know what I’m talking about. Cardio, and then boxing, or you can go back to Carter’s room.”
She huffs all the way to the treadmill, like the fucking spoiled brat Knox and Carter have turned her into.
“Why do you give me such a hard time?” I ask, as she starts a fast walk on the treadmill.
“Because you’re a dick.”
I laugh at her usual response, but I’m not buying it.
“Try again, Killer.”
She’s quiet as she speeds up into a sprint, and I can’t help but watch her tits bounce as she runs.
A thin sheet of perspiration coats her chest, and I fight the urge to lick it.
When I bit her neck, I got a thrill from the sweet taste of her flesh.
It was like biting into a forbidden fruit, something I’m not even supposed to like, yet yearn to devour.
When she turns the machine off and walks over to me, she answers my previous question.
“I like our dynamic, as hostile as it might be. Knox and Carter treat me like I’m something precious. You’re the only one who gets it.”
Handing her the boxing gloves, I raise a brow in question.
“Get what?”
Heather shakes her head at me, like she can’t believe I need an explanation.
“I don’t deserve them, and we both know that. What you give me, that’s what I deserve. You were right, I’m trash, and I know this isn’t permanent. Eventually, they will both wake up and realize there’s better out there. I’m not the forever girl, I’m the temporary one.”
She puts the gloves on, and I tighten them for her as she continues.
“You see me for what I am. And I guess I don’t have to worry about pushing you too far, because you already hate me.”
I swallow hard as I hold the bag, while processing her words.
“Throw one punch at a time. Today this isn’t about skill, but getting some of the aggression out. This is for your mental health.”
Starting with her dominant hand, as I expected, I hold the bag stable for her. She moves from right to left repeatedly.
“Spread your legs slightly and bend your knees a little.”
She does, and I nod from beside the bag.
“Let it out, Killer. There’s no shame here. I’ve done this with Carter too. Scream, yell, whatever you need to do.”
Heather stares at me, and I can see the wheels turning while she decides whether she wants to be this vulnerable with me. I don’t blame her.
“Think what you want about me, but I’m not the asshole you think I am. You’ve been through hell, and I’m not going to use it against you.”
She takes a deep breath and says, “Don’t do that, Killian. You have already used my past against me. Don’t act like the good guy now. We are far beyond that.”
I don’t argue, because she’s right. Instead, I stay silent while she punches the bag. Heather starts slow but speeds up, until she’s wailing on the bag. Her breathing becomes heavy as tears fall down her cheeks, and she screams.
“Aaghhhh!”
Then she falls to her knees, appearing broken and lost. I told my brothers I would help, for them, not for her, but as I stare at her undoing at my feet, I’m not sure it’s not for her.
Taking the bag down, I place it on the floor and roll it against the wall. I kneel in front of her and ask, “What do you need?”
Heather glances at me, before quickly darting her eyes away.
“Killer, what do you need? From any of us, including me. Speak it, and it’s yours.”
Her lashes flutter as she lifts her gaze to mine. Her voice is pained as she speaks.
“Hurt me.”
For the first time since I met this woman, I don’t want to cause her pain, but this is her one request, so I’ll do it.
“What’s your safe word, Killer?”
Her lips quirk up into the slightest of smiles.
“Donut.”
I look at her, and it’s as if I’m seeing her for the first fucking time.
She needs pain to get through this, the way I have so many times before.
Suddenly, I understand the fascination my brothers have with this woman.
When we look in a mirror, we see ourselves, flaws and all.
The woman in front of me reflects the pain I know so well, but there’s something else.
A light in the dark night.
Beauty in the most grotesque place.
Yet, she’s also a thirst that cannot be quenched.
A craving never satisfied.
If I’m not careful, I’ll end up like both of my brothers, lost to this woman, and that cannot happen.