Chapter 52 Dixon
DIXON
MONTHS LATER…
Jesus, I still hated mornings.
Surprisingly, I still loved the gym.
Working out used to be the only time my brain calmed down, when it stopped reenacting all my terrible choices, violent behavior, and cutting words.
That was before Tessa, when I was fighting my baser nature.
Fighting, and losing. Now, the gym wasn’t a sanctuary, it was mine and Tessa’s special space.
Things changed so fast. Not always for the better. But this time, it had changed for the very fucking best.
The others didn’t mind that we’d gotten in the habit of working out as a duo. We all had our private rituals with her.
Tray studied with her, because she’d made him stick to his college commitment. They laughed, made note cards. She urged him to do better and often used her feminine wiles to encourage the effort. It was a very ‘sexy tutor, lazy student’ dynamic.
Mac had gotten her matching aprons a week or so ago.
They’d not tried soufflé a third time, but they’d tackled random dishes like her mother’s bolognese, homemade sourdough, Basque cheesecake.
I’d caught them fucking atop a disaster of flour the day they’d attempted some special sour cream cake recipe.
Tray walked in after me, made a joke about loving ‘pound cake’ and then he’d dragged me away from the show.
And Ryder had finally convinced Tessa to sing with him.
She kept saying she should only sing in the shower, with shampoo and body wash for an audience, but I’d passed the downstairs studio the other day when she was practicing the chorus of a fresh song we were working on.
Fucking angelic. Almost broke into their solo time to hear her better.
They wouldn’t have been mad, but I knew how much I cherished my moments alone with her. We all deserved that.
Though, admittedly, our moments as a pack were just as memorable.
We all simply fit together. We worked somehow. A one-in-a-million scent-matching. Eros had that part right.
“Not sure I’m ready for heavier.” Tessa stared up at me, the bar blocking part of her face as I gazed downward. Her ponytail splayed to one side, curls falling over the bench. “My arms hurt like hell for a solid week the last time we raised the weights.”
“You’re ready,” I confirmed, trying to build her confidence.
“If you say so,” she still sounded unsure of herself. She raised her arms, fingers curling around the bar.
She planted her feet firmly, arched her back slightly, and began to lift the bar from its cradle.
I hovered my hands in position, just in case.
Expression determined, brows knitting together and causing an adorable wrinkle between, she steadily, slowly, lowered the bar fitted with thirty pounds on each side.
It wasn't impressive against my three hundred, but it was a kick ass accomplishment from where she’d started—joking how she had a body built for dumpster diving, not defending herself.
Weak muscles, severely malnourished, thinner than she should be…
all things Eros worked hard to disguise before her arrival.
I still wished I could get my hands on those bastards. Break a few bones. Snap a few necks. And that wasn’t ferality speaking; that was good old-fashioned anger.
But we’d had our personal lawyers investigate Eros.
What we’d signed when securing their services was rock-solid, with zero loopholes.
If we pursued the matter, fought against the way Tessa became an Eros product, then we’d end up incriminating ourselves too.
Tessa tried as well, having Johnas, Bridgers, and Burr subpoena copies of everything she’d signed.
A similar NDA, a release of rights, a guarantee she’d not sue Eros, or any of its sister companies and staff.
Endless ass-covering nestled in mile-long fine print.
Digging deeper landed Johnas and his partners in deep water, receiving a cease-and-desist letter backed by pressure from assholes in the Capital.
Money and power, far exceeding our own, stood in the shadows behind the Eros Institute. Someday though, they’d do something that pissed off the wrong person, someone who could take them head on.
Tessa grunted, pushing the bar back up and pulling me out of my thoughts. She hesitated once her elbows were fully extended. I watched but didn’t panic. My girl could handle it.
That thought made me grin like a fool. My girl. Our girl. Oblivion Haze’s Omega.
Her breasts stressed the thin material of the stupidest t-shirt I’d bought her so far.
Pitch black, featuring several flying white bats and big, bold letters across the chest which read, “Oh, look! Sky kittens!”.
She’d laughed for fifteen minutes straight.
The very next week, she’d surprised me with a microwavable bat compress—for my ‘old man’ chronic shoulder pain—and tickets to an after-dark bat exhibit at a facility in Santa Barbara.
And she’d done it just to see if I’d act like a kid at Christmas.
I did. Damn her for being so fucking adorable.
She had this way of catching me off-guard.
I’d spent half my adult life making sure no one other than my pack brothers ever got close enough to fuck with me.
Then, out of nowhere, this petite Omega with her fierce will to live and endless supply of positivity came along and made herself right at home in my chest cavity.
And she’d just finished another rep.
“Sixty pounds, babe. I told you.” I sounded like a proud coach. And, I was. She’d come so far. Impressed the hell out of me.
Her mouth curved into a slight smile but then straightened again as she concentrated on lowering the bar once more.
The shirt slipped up, revealing her toned stomach.
The leggings were folded low at the waist, revealing the belly button piercing she’d gotten with Tray.
A little music note dangled, its gems catching light and sparkling. Soooo fucking sexy.
“Think you got one more in you?” I pushed her as she finished her tenth. Ten was the goal, but I always asked for one more. Just one more. It proved to her that she could go past her limits, every time.
“One… more…” she grunted out, arms shaking a bit this time. But she did it, bringing the bar back to rest in its stand. Instantly, her posture melted, back falling against the black leather bench. I let her breathe, recovering for a heartbeat.
“Push to eighty next time?” I teased as she sat up and swiped beads of sweat from her forehead.
“Don’t start. I am not raising the weights anytime soon.”
“Come on,” I goaded, “how about seventy? You can handle ten more.”
“Maybe next month,” she turned, sitting sideways and cocking one leg up. “What’s next?”
“We could switch to cardio again?” I waggled my eyebrows suggestively.
“No, today is arm day. Tomorrow is leg day.” She smirked, knowing my exact meaning.
“I think we need to get our heart rates up,” I shrugged, acting totally innocent.
Tessa stood, skipping towards me and throwing her arms around my neck. “Remember, we’re supposed to stay focused on our work out. We said we wouldn’t get thrown off course again.”
“I don’t remember saying that.” I shook my head, wrapping my arms around her waist.
"I know what you're doing," she said, her voice dropping to that husky tone that made me want to pin her against the nearest wall. Usually, I didn’t fight the urge. "You're trying to distract me from the fact that we need to finish our routine."
"Is it working?" I grinned, trailing my fingers up her spine.
She shivered under my touch, eyes darkening. "Maybe."
I bent down, my lips brushing against her ear. "Maybe isn't no."
Her scent intensified; that intoxicating perfume that was uniquely Tessa filling the space around us.
My own Alpha scent plumed. Our flavors mixed in a mind-bending way.
My nostrils flared, lashes fluttering, and body hardening in response to the way her chemistry melded to mine.
The gym warmed around us, my mesh shorts and slick shirt suddenly felt too constricting.
Tessa gave a little hop, and I automatically put my hands beneath her ass to help lift. She wrapped her legs around my waist; hands remaining knit together at the back of my neck.
"Dixon," she whispered, fingers threading through my hair. She was going to give in. I knew she would. Tessa couldn’t resist me. My cock pushed against the thin shorts. Fucking her was far better than lifting weights.
Of course, Tessa had that way of surprising me…
Suddenly, her expression became mischievous, any hint of sexiness chased away.
“I told you, no more trying to get into my pants while we’re in the gym. I take this seriously!” She darted her head forward, lowering to clamp her mouth around my shoulder. She bit ferociously.
I yelped, nearly dropping her as her teeth sank into the muscle. "Fuck, Tessa!"
“That’s what you want, but I’m saying we have to wait to work up that kind of sweat.” Her voice nearly dissolved into laughter. She was infectious. A disease I’d die for any day of the damn week.
She leaned away from my body, crossing her arms. I kept her elevated easily, letting her do her thing. Even supported against my body, legs locked around my waist, she looked like she was standing tall and giving me hell. Our Omega was turning into a tyrant. And I fucking loved it.
“Biting is only allowed in the bedroom,” I admonished, though there was zero irritation in my tone. Just amusement. And biting outside the bedroom… depended on the location and my frame of mind.
She grinned wickedly and slapped my chest playfully. “Put me down, you horny oaf.”
After I lowered her to the ground, she shimmied a little, fixing the waist of her leggings.
I glanced at my shoulder, seeing the angry teeth marks. It throbbed a little. “Hurts like a bitch,” I said with a half-cocked smile.