27. Chapter 24
Chance
B ANG. BANG. BANG.
BANG. BANG.
I slammed my fists into the bag time after time after time. Finding therapy in the bag was as easy as breathing. It was music to my ears, the pounding booms I made.
Bag work let me be alone—let me be wherever I needed to be. Let me lose myself in the constant movement, slip into a world where everyone and everything dissipated into the dark void.
Most times I went without gloves, my hands usually wrapped or bare-knuckle. Any pain only drove me further, harder, faster.
Movement flickered out of the void to my right, so I pushed harder—shoved everything that was and ever had been into the black hole and threw everything I fucking had into the heavy leather bag.
My knuckles grazed; small droplets of blood surfaced.
The beacon of motion to my right refused to fade into the void, beaming blatantly.
With the force of my entire rotation, I slammed a cutting elbow into the bag before turning over my shoulder.
Sunny stood in denim shorts and a Knock’s tank, stacking gloves into the racks. She rose up on her toes to shove a pair of shiny golden gloves back into place on the top shelf. Even the gloves weren’t as bright as her. Her tank shifted just a smidge away from the thick waist of her shorts.
My legs moved of their own accord, like a moth to a flame, when she stumbled backwards from trying to put Jayden’s stupid fucking gloves away. Her skin was a little moist when my hands found her smooth, still exposed waist. She let out a breathy gasp at the contact before finding her feet.
“T-Thanks,” she croaked.
“I’ve got you,” I replied, withdrawing my hands. My skin, as well as her shoulders, slumped slightly at the loss of contact.
What the fuck is happening to me?
Pussy-whipped, that’s what.
I turned to walk away when her hand gripped mine. She plucked it up towards her and inspected the open wounds I had on my knuckles. Her lips pursed and a crease formed between her eyebrows in concentration.
“Let’s get these cleaned up,” she said quietly and tugged on my hand in request to follow her. I slipped it from her grasp, feeling the cool air replace her warmth immediately.
“I’m fine. I was just finishing up,” I replied, snatching my water bottle from the edge of the mat. I made a show of tipping some of the water over my knuckles and then shut my eyes as I poured it over my head.
Sunny stared at me with those big brown eyes swirling like hot pools of the richest chocolate. With her lips slightly parted, she scanned my shirtless torso before bringing her stare to mine.
“It wasn’t a request,” she stated, stepping forward to grab my hand once again. The softness and politeness in her grip was gone, replaced with a firmness leaving no room to argue as she dragged me to the bathrooms.
After pushing me to sit on the closed toilet, she opened the larger of the vanity drawers and pulled out a fluffy white washcloth and a bottle of antiseptic. Wordlessly, she ran the tap as hot as it would go before shoving the washcloth under it. She wrung it out and crossed the room to me.
“I would have done this myself,” I lied. I knew how to, of course. I’d been doing this for so long, dressing cuts was something I could teach even a blind man to do. But I found that when it came to dressing your own wounds, it was easier to go with the ‘it’ll be right’ approach.
“No, you wouldn’t have,” she said, wiping the hot fabric over the top of my right hand. “Besides, I like to protect my investments. Who’ll take class tomorrow if you get staph or whatever from punching a filthy bag bare-knuckled ?”
She shot me a pointed look.
“Careful, Sunny. You almost sound like you care.” I smirked up at her. She was bending down slightly to address my left hand now, her magnificent cleavage well on display and directly in my line of sight.
Torture.
This was torture .
This strong, sexy woman was all I could see. She was light and warmth and fire. Fire . Everything about her was heat, a burning flame I was fucking drawn to.
“Don’t get your hopes up, Riordan. I’m purely taking care of an asset.”
“Mmm, I love it when you talk dirty,” I mused.
She snickered.
A zapping rush filled the open cuts as she poured antiseptic over them. The brown liquid ran off the sides of my hands, dripping to the floor. The bleeding had stopped, so I declined the need for bandages.
“Don’t come crying if they get infected,” Sunny said, shoving the bandages back in the drawer and the washcloth in the laundry basket.
“Not one to cry over a split knuckle, Sunny,” I joked.
“What’s the deal with going bare-knuckle?” she asked, wetting a paper towel under the tap.
“What’s it to you?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m just curious, jackass. Relax.” She crouched down and wiped up the antiseptic on the floor that was probably minutes away from staining.
“Sometimes it’s just what I need. It’s not that deep,” I replied, that mask of boredom slipping over my face, urging her not to ask any more fucking questions. “Thanks for giving my hands a clean.”
I sidestepped her and pulled the door open before heading back towards where my gear was. The sound of the bathroom bin squeaking open and slamming shut became muffled as I strode away.
“Seriously, Riordan?” she complained loudly. “I extend the olive branch and make an effort, and that’s all I get?”
I turned, finding her standing in front of the bathroom block, arms crossed. A gentle crease had formed, no doubt from frustration, between her brows. Those full, rosy lips were pulled down into a scowl, her cheeks flushing the same colour.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped, folding my arms right back.
She rolled her eyes and stormed over to me. “You haven’t spoken to me since we … you know. It’s childish and I won’t have this petty shit in my gym.” She lifted her chin, but there was uncertainty in those brown eyes.
I scoffed.
Fucking women .
“So, let me get this straight.” I ran a hand through my damp hair and let my hands fall to my hips.
“We sleep together, I give you several mind-blowing orgasms—” I held up a hand when she opened her mouth to speak.
“You leave the next morning without a note or a goddamn text. I , being able to read between the fucking lines, take that as my cue to move that night into the ‘ drunken splendour ’ category—”
“That’s why you haven’t been speaking to me?” she interrupted, honey eyes widening. “Because I left without saying goodbye? That’s what this is about?”
“It’s not about anything,” I snapped, the lie tasting as foul as it was.
“It’s about the fact that you think I owe you, just because we slept together.
News flash, Sunny baby, you’re not the be-all-and-end-all of orgasms”— Watch yourself, mate.
You’re about to dig yourself a hole here —“I can find myself a good orgasm, just as easy as I found yours.”
Her eyes flared, and my stomach knotted.
She nailed her walls back in place. Gone was any banter between us, any kind of flirtatious tension.
“You’re a real asshole, you know that?” she said through gritted teeth.
“And you’re a pain in it, Sunny baby,” I snarled.
“Stop calling me that!” She stepped into my space, glaring up at me. A droplet of sweat ran down the side of her temple, and my nostrils were instantly filled with that fucking intoxicating smell of salty peaches.
“For fuck sake,” I growled. Her lips parted and blew out a hot breath that had saliva filling my mouth. “That fucking mouth of yours.”
“Right back at you, big guy,” she growled, though neither of us made a move to step away.
My fingers brushed hers, teasingly testing the scalding waters we were surrounded by. Her slender fingers startled at the contact but warmed very fucking quickly. Gladly allowing my own to thread through hers, I yanked her in flush against me.
Sunny let out a small breath before meeting my gaze, still fiery as ever.
“You’re such a—”
I cut her off by slamming my mouth on hers.