Page 13 of King of Violence

I watch as a droplet of sweat drips down his jaw and the side of his throat.

Felix’s eyes dart to mine, wide and uncertain. The normally raging tempest blue of his eyes is calm for once. For a moment, neither of us moves, and I have no smart remark to lighten the tension brewing between us. I fear if I move, I won’t be able to resist the urge to pull his lips to mine…or to tear off that ridiculous shirt that makes my cock twitch with every flash of skin.

And then he pushes away from the wall, his movements abrupt. “I think we’re done here,” he says, his voice tight.

I clear my throat as I raise my hands. “Hey, no harm, no foul.”

Felix grabs his towel and slings it over his shoulder as he walks toward the locker room.

I watch him go, a slow smile spreading across my face.

Felix Caruso is full of surprises. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’ve found someone who can actually keep up with me.

FELIX

The hot water pounds against my shoulders and steam fills the bathroom like a cloud trying to swallow me whole. I press my palms flat against the slick tile, leaning into the warmth, but it does nothing to relax me. My mind is racing, caught on a loop I can’t seem to break.

Julian.

I curse under my breath, tilting my head back under the spray. The water scalds my skin, but it’s not enough to wash him away—his cocky grin and the way his dark eyes spark with mischief, like he knows exactly how much space he’s taking up in my head.

Why the hell am I even thinking about him?

I close my eyes, but that’s a mistake. The memory of him at the gym flashes behind my lids, vivid and unrelenting. His teasing words echo in my ears, the way he leaned so effortlessly against the wall, completely at ease. His confidence, his playful jabs—it’s infuriating how he can get under my skin without even trying.

And then there’s the way he touched me.

I swallow hard, my breath hitching as I remember his hands on my shoulders, steady and firm. His voice, low and teasingbut somehow gentle, guiding me through my stance like I wasn’t ready to snap at him for every word. And then that moment—the sparring, the laughter, the accidental press of his body against mine.

My hands curl into fists against the tile.

I shouldn’t be thinking about this. Abouthim. But my mind won’t let it go. I shake my head, trying to force the thoughts away, but they only come back stronger. My chest tightens, my pulse racing in a way that has nothing to do with the heat of the shower.

He’s everything I should stay away from—arrogant, overconfident, infuriatingly magnetic. He thrives on chaos, and I’ve spent my entire life trying to create order. We’re opposites, incompatible.

So why the hell can’t I stop thinking about him?

I lean my head against the shower wall, my muscles aching under the hot water. God, Julian’s scent won’t get out of my head—something deep and warm, like whiskey and cherries. The memory of Julian pressed against the wall and looking up at me has me in a frenzy.

Blood rushes to my dick.

No, I can’t do this.

The gleam of sweat on his large arms.

I can’t bring myself down to that level.

What would his hands feel like on me?

My hand takes my cock and begins to pump.

Is he thinking about me now? Is he thinking about licking me, devouring me, fucking me? No, no. I’m just pent-up. I can’t fucking stand him. He thinks he knows me. He thinks he’s better than me. This is some fucked-up game for him.

I squeeze my stiff length as if scolding myself. But Julian’s not here to see me. My roommate is out. So no one would know.

My mind drifts. I think about Julian unzipping his pants, his angry cock pushing against his briefs.

“Fuck.” I use the precum leaking from the head to make my hand slicker.

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