Page 52 of Vicious Temptation

Fear and nausea wash over me, and I recoil, rolling over so that I’m facing away from him, curling into myself. It was foolish of me to think I might want to try. Foolish to think that I could ever be anything other than broken.

And especially foolish to think that this man could be the one to change that.

I close my eyes and try to fall back to sleep.

—

The next thing I’m aware of is the sound of someone saying my name, a man’s voice. It’s raspy and a little sleepy, and I feel a wave of warmth wash over me in the moment before I open my eyes, and see Gabriel standing next to my side of the bed. I blink, realizing he’s in black gym shorts and a soft-looking white shirt, his hair tucked behind his ears as he looks down at me.

“Mm—what?” I mumble, half-sitting up. “What’s going on?”

There’s a half-smile on his face. “Took you long enough to wake up,” he says with a chuckle. “I can’t shake you awake, so just saying your name over and over took a while.”

Heat blooms in my cheeks at the thought of Gabriel standing there, murmuring my name to try to wake me—along with a wave of appreciation that he didn’t touch me to wake me up. He’s careful of me, thoughtful, and with every new interaction that reminds me of it, I appreciate it more and more.

“I want you to come down to the gym with me,” he continues, and I blink at him, not entirely sure I’m hearing him correctly. A quick look at the clock tells me that it’s just before six in the morning, which is an ungodly time to wake up, in my opinion.

“To—work out?” I ask confusedly, and Gabriel’s smile twitches.

“What else would you do in a gym?” he asks with a laugh, and I feel my blush deepen. I don’t think he meant it to be an innuendo at all—but he makes me think things that I haven’t in a long time.

“I just—I’ve never gotten up this early to work out.” I sit up, the blankets pooling around my hips, and I catch the quick flick of his gaze downwards before he refocuses on my face. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to teach you some self-defense moves,” Gabriel says. “I’ve seen you running, but I think this will help with your nightmares.”

I frown. “I don’t know about that?—”

“It’s worth a try,” he insists, letting out a breath. “Do you always want to be reliant on those sleeping pills?”

The question stings a little. “Of course not,” I say quickly, a little defensively, and he nods.

“I didn’t think so. And I think that if you feel like you can defend yourself, it will subconsciously help. It’s at least worth trying, don’t you think?”

I can’t argue with that. At least not without saying that at least part of my hesitation is being alone with him, doing something so physical. That I don’t know how that will affect the strange, confusing feelings that I’m already struggling with, and I’m a little afraid to find out.

“I know you don’t want me to touch you,” Gabriel continues, almost as if he can hear what I’m thinking. Maybe he can read it on my face, and I struggle to keep my expression neutral, not wanting to be so transparent. “I can’t teach you a lot without doing that, but we can go through some moves on the boxing bag without having to touch, and I can demonstrate while you try to match what I’m doing. How does that sound?”

It sounds way out of my depth, and beyond anything I’ve even considered trying before. But I find myself nodding, because I don’t really have a reason not to try, and what he’s saying does make sense.

“My workout clothes are in my room.” I run a hand through my hair, still trying to wake up the rest of the way. “I’ll go grab them and—meet you downstairs?”

Gabriel nods, and I toss the covers back, dragging myself out of bed. I can’t quite believe that I’m actually getting out of bed before six in the morning to workout. That sense of unreality hasn’t entirely faded by the time I pull on a pair of leggings and a long-sleeved workout top. I shove my feet into a pair of sneakers and throw my hair up into a ponytail, and go downstairs to find Gabriel already waiting for me, two bottles of water in hand.

“You have far too much energy for this time of day,” I grumble, following him as he leads me to the stairs that will take us down to the basement. “I’m going to need a nap today when the kids take one.”

Gabriel chuckles, saying nothing as he pushes the door open and leads me downstairs. When he flicks the light on, I stare for a moment, taking in the entirety of the room.

He wasn’t kidding when he said that he has a whole, fully equipped gym down here. If I were more of a gym rat, I’d be blown away—as it is, I’m more than a little impressed. His physique makes sense now—he doesn’t even have to leave the house to get in shape, and he’s clearly put this space to work.

That thought makes me glance at him, taking in the muscles of his arms and back from where I’m standing behind him, and I force myself not to look at his ass in the clinging black shorts. Gabriel is not a man I’m supposed to check out. Not in the slightest.

But it feels like progress that I want to check him out at all.

Gabriel gestures to the mats. “Go ahead and do whatever warmup you want,” he says, kicking his sneakers off and walking to one side. “I’m going to get warmed up, too, and then we’ll start on the bag.” He motions to the large boxing bag hanging from chains at one end of the room, and then he sinks down to the mat, starting what I assume is his usual stretching routine.

I can’t help sneaking looks at him in the long mirror that takes up one entire wall, as I move through my own stretches that I always do pre-run. His body is incredible—all lean, lithe muscles that make me think of Hugh Jackman in that very first X-Men movie, before they started dehydrating him and stopped letting him eat anything other than shredded chicken, I assume. Gabriel is ripped, but not overly so, not so muscled that it looks extreme. But with every movement of his body, I can see the muscles flexing, the taut olive skin rippling over them, and I suddenly feel as if it’s very warm. I can hear that the air conditioning is on, but sweat is already prickling on the back of my neck.

I feel like I did that night when I spilled the wine, and he was close enough to kiss, an ache settling between my thighs, spiraling through me as I force myself not to look at him again, lest I get caught. The last thing I want is for Gabriel to see me checking him out, especially when he’s made it clear that he’s not interested in romance.

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