Page 61 of Camden

When his fist connected with the sandbag again, I didn’t flinch. I just watched him move. It was beautiful. The way his body rippled in strength. His chest heaved. Sweat dripped down his skin. His hair was wet.

He looked beautiful. Powerful. Strong.

I tilted my head and watched him move for a few more minutes.

He landed a knee on the bag and steadied it with his hand. He wiped the sweat from his brow before squeezing the back of his neck. Brown brows pinched in concentration.

“You look like you’re thinking awfully hard about something.” I tilted my head.

He froze momentarily before looking over at me. Grabbing a towel, he wiped the rest of the sweat from his face. His toned stomach and chest soaked from his hard work. I wanted to walk over and run my hands all over him. I didn’t care that sweat covered every inch of him or that he’d just been beating the crap out of the punching bag.

I wanted to be in his arms.

It was my favorite place to be.

“I was just thinking about a few things, but now I’m thinking that you look damn good in my shirt.” He sauntered over to where I stood, snagged my waist, and pulled me into him. He took the cup from me and placed it on the shelf next to several resistance bands.

I traced the top of one collarbone. “What were you thinking about?” I asked.

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

I tilted my head back to look at him better. “You didn’t look like you were thinking happy thoughts.”

He squeezed my sides. “When I woke up this morning, I thought about everything you had been through, everything we talked about yesterday, and it pissed me off. I hate that you went through any of it. That you had to endure any pain. I came down here to get out some of my frustrations. After hitting it for a while, I started thinking that you would hate me having a punching bag down here.” He looked back over his shoulder at the bag like it offended him, making me want to laugh.

“You were kickboxing, right?”

“Yeah,” he said and let me go to unwrap his knuckles.

“And you’d never use those moves on me, right?”

His hands froze. His lip curled in disgust at the thought. “Hell no.”

“Then, no, it doesn’t bother me. Honestly, watching you move like that made me hot.” I shrugged my shoulders as if it were no big deal.

“That turned you on?” I nodded. “We should do something about that.” His grin turned wolfish as he pressed his shoulder into my stomach and lifted me in a fireman’s hold. I gripped his hips, my eyes shut tight as he made his way back up the stairs.

“Don’t you have to head to work?” I laughed as he raced through the kitchen and living room to the second flight of stairs.

“My shift doesn’t start until noon today. Do you have to head in?”

“It’s my day off.”

“Well, how about I take a shower and then take care of you before you take a shower?”

“What?” I asked as he sat me on my feet in front of his bed.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up, and then I’m going to dirty you up.”

“Why not before you take a shower?” I asked, confused, and I wanted to pout a little.

“I don’t want to turn you off by having to smell me right now.”

“So considerate.” I rolled my eyes, joking. “You know, you just rubbed your scent all over me by carrying me up the stairs.”

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