12. Chapter 9
Mari
M y foot slammed on the ground to catch my fall.
God, I’m so tired I’m tripping over my own fucking feet.
The sun, only just beginning to rise, warmed my stiff body.
That dawn sunshine was something I loved most about walking to the gym each morning.
But on a morning like this, where I was unbearably tired, that warm sun felt a little too similar to the comforts of my own bed.
Meaning instead of my usual cuppa when I arrived at the gym, I’d need a double … or quadruple.
The rocks crackled underneath my feet as I stopped in front of the gym—all of the doors were open, but none of the lights seemed to be on? I thumbed the hidden blade I keep in my bag strap, sucked in a breath to hold, and silently crept around the corner.
My knife hit the ground with a clatter. There was someone in the gym.
Not just anyone.
Chance.
“Mornin’ boss!” he chirped, curling the dumbbell up his arm with a slight grunt.
There’s a man in my gym, at the asscrack of dawn, doing bicep curls.
Correction—there’s a very hot, very shirtless, professional UFL fighter in my gym, at the asscrack of dawn, doing bicep curls.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, racking the dumbbells and grabbing his towel from the bench.
Sweat greedily dripped down his chest, in between every crevice of his carved stomach.
“Just wanted to get a workout in before the crowds came.” He smiled, and if that didn’t just make me melt even more.
“Are you alright?” he asked, concern knitting his brows together.
“Perfectly fine,” I replied, unable to stop my eyes from openly wandering over his frame. The built, muscled body of a fighter—a warrior.
Fuck, was it getting hot in here?
“Something on your mind?” Like the moment before the storm hits, the sudden snap in temperature, his gaze turned heated as he watched me drink him in.
“A thing or two.” My fingers reached for him; a warmth spread through me at the feel of his sweaty, blood-filled chest.
“Anything I can help with?” Chance took a step closer. He towered over me. He was so much bigger that I couldn’t not get lost in him—he was everywhere.
He reached his own fingers out and brushed the backs of them across my cheek, skimming them further until they were tangled in my hair. Thank god I left it out this morning.
“A thing or two,” I repeated, breathless.
His skin felt incredible on mine. The fingers that were gently tugging on my hair released and traced an invisible line down my side all the way to my waist. He palmed my hip, pulling me closer in one quick motion while his other hand fed back into my hair, weaving easily through the curly strands.
Yes.
Yes, yes, yes .
“You know where to find me, Trevino.”
My curtains were wide open with the sun blazing in—but it was blindingly obvious that wasn’t the reason I felt so hot : unbearably turned on, a hand between my legs, and absolutely soaked through my pyjama pants.
No.
No—I refuse to feel good from this.
No. He’s a fighter. He’s an employee—
He’s a sex icon.
Nowhere was safe from this man—not even my subconscious.
I cursed the world for not recognising the effort I’d been making.
After the slip I had in his wrestling class two weeks ago, I’d been making a point of avoiding him at all costs.
I trained every day but showed up a second before class started and left as soon as it ended.
I partnered up with someone other than JJ, not wanting to give Chance a reason to come my way.
I even ignored Jayden and all of the hush, hush comments he’d fire at me.
All to avoid the unavoidable—Chance’s attention.
Though I hid like an absolute child, he still found me. Whenever I was doing well, he was always there telling me. Whenever I wasn’t, he was there too.
The worst part about it all—I didn’t hate it.
I didn’t hate the fact that he always watched me.
I didn’t hate the fact that he taught most of his higher intensity classes without a shirt on.
What I did hate was the fact that I couldn’t bring myself to hate these things.
I should have loathed all of these things—my vow against dating fighters required me to do so.
But I couldn’t help but notice things. Like the fact he always watched me do the techniques before he watched anyone else.
Or that he hadn’t partnered me up with Jayden since that day in the kitchen.
Or that he always glanced my way before stripping off at the end of class, usually for a heartbeat longer when I was also shedding my clothes.
He usually cast a glance over the room, to see what everyone else was doing during the latter too.
My inconvenient dream did a fantastic job at kicking my ass into gear, and I got dressed and to the gym in record time.
I opened up the gym, sighing in relief that I was the first one in, and headed straight for the kitchen.
I filled and flicked the kettle on boil, a soft squealing starting to sing from the old machine.
Needing to keep moving and fight the goddamn itch in my hands, I strode over to the offices quickly.
It was dark and I couldn’t see shit, so I flung my bags in the general direction of the couch.
Instead of landing with a thud , a soft groan sounded, followed by my bags hitting the floor.
“Ah, fuck.”
That voice.
I ran my hand along the wall until I hit the light switch. “Jesus! Riordan! What the hell are you doing in here?!” I gawked at his once-again shirtless torso, along with the sleepy expression he was wearing.
Yep, my subconscious was right on the money with that image.
His long, golden locks were messy and some were starting to fall over his face.
How he still looked so delectable first thing in the morning was just plain unfair. After sleeping, when our hair is wild, eyebrows muffled, and with sleep in our eyes—as humans we’re meant to wake up out of shape. Wake up gross, with dried drool on our faces.
But Chance Riordan appeared to not fall into the category of human .
“Well, I was sleeping.” He groaned again, rubbing his hands slowly over his face and grumbling a few more curses.
“A-are you …” I could barely get the words out.
He raised his eyebrows in question, those blue eyes looking a little grey, matching the circles under his eyes. Had he always been this worn-out? Or was I only just noticing?
“Are you living in my gym, Riordan?” I whispered. My chest twinged uncomfortably at the thought.
“Relax, Sunny. I’m not squatting in your gym.” He sat up, tossing the blanket aside to reveal the pair of baggy tie-dyed shorts he was wearing underneath. The shorts nearly reached his knees, but the lines that sculpted his torso cut in deep as he moved to stand.
My breath stuttered at those lines—how dangerously low his shorts were hanging.
“JJ had company last night … and happens to snore like a fucking foghorn.”
“You’re more than welcome to come and use our spare room.” Nan’s sweet voice filled the room, and my eyes bulged.
I turned to face her at the door as Gus trotted to my side.
She smiled a closed-mouth smile, her telltale sign of mischief. “We’re well aware of just how badly JJ snores. Aren’t we, Mari?”
I narrowed my eyes at her and hummed in response. Chance chuckled from behind me.
“Thank you, Marilyn, but I don’t want to intrude.” He smirked. “Besides, wouldn’t want to make Sunny here feel … uncomfortable .”
The exhausted grey that his eyes wore before vanished as amusement lit the way. The tension in his forehead relaxed, as well as the crease between his brows. For a moment, he smiled, a true smile, as he and Nan laughed together. I almost forgot about what they were insinuating.
“Me? Uncomfortable?” I scoffed. “Please.”
“You sure you’d be okay with it?” Nan poked.
“Yes, I’m sure,” I snapped, folding my arms.
“Great. Chance, be at the table for dinner at seven. I trust you to shower before coming over.” Nan settled, the tone of her voice leaving no room for bailing out on the plan she’d made.
I looked over and Chance’s blues flared ever so slightly in surprise.
Those eyes scanned my face before he smiled at Nan.
“A gentleman doesn’t show up unwashed now, does he?”
“I’d confirm that statement with that friend of yours,” Nan replied.
“Who? Sunny?” Chance asked, pointing a thumb towards me.
“No!” I scowled. “I do not smell!”
Any ounce of amusement left Chance’s face.
“No, you definitely do not.” Raw, fiery heat filled his gaze. His eyes ran over my figure, spending a generous amount of time along the curve where my waist met my thighs.
“I—” I sputtered. “Whatever!”
Chance and Nan laughed as I stalked out, Gus trotting alongside me all the way back to the kitchen.
“At least you wouldn’t rat me out,” I muttered to my sweet boy.
“And I suppose you think I did?” Nan asked, her ruby red lips pursed.
“Oh yeah. Big time, Nan,” I huffed. “You totally threw me under the bus back there!”
“What makes you say that, dear?” She took her usual seat at the table.
I levelled a look on her, and she laughed.
“I was just being polite, Mari,” she said, clicking her now emerald green nails on the table. She must have gone to the salon yesterday. “I thought I raised you to do the same.”
“I—”
“If that man needs somewhere to get a peaceful night’s rest, he is more than welcome to come and stay in our guest room.”
She raised her eyebrows at me. “You were raised better than to let your libido get in the way of being a good person.”
I gawked at my grandmother talking about my libido of all things. Gus moved and lay at Nan’s feet, as if even he could smell the burn she’d just delivered.
I sighed, running a hand over my face. “The fact that I find him attractive”— extremely attractive— “has nothing to do with me not wanting him to stay at my house. What would the others think? It’s unprofessional.”
“I believe you have offered our house to others before, dear.” She emphasised that I was not the only one in ownership of the house, scolding me with my mother’s eyes.
“Like when Liv was in-between houses? Or before JJ’s parents moved out and were having all kinds of troubles? What about when Wazza needed—”
“Those were different!”
“Why? Because it wasn’t Chance asking to stay?
Because there was no opportunity for anything in your life to change from that occurring?
” She tilted her head at me, and I should have just agreed with her from the start.
She was in no mood to argue today. “I know change is scary for you, but sometimes we have to put that aside and help the people who need it. It’s exactly what your father would have done. ”
I discreetly rolled my eyes at the mention of his name.
“Fine. I’m not offering though—it’s your offer,” I huffed.
Nan patted my shoulder and walked out. Gus trailed along behind her, worshipping the ground she walked on.