Page 8 of Fight for You

I should have stayed away. I should have politely declined, and just focused on our training. But it was impossible. I was drawn to everything about Troy, and I couldn’t resist. He was the first man who ever made me rethink my stance on dating or relationships.

So I allowed myself a single taste of being with him. I told myself that once he got to know me better, his interest would wane and it wouldn’t matter anyway. But it wasn’t true. He listened to everything I had to say. He held my hand. And he opened up to me, telling me all about his family and past.

It made it nearly impossible to turn him down, but I knew it had to be done. Because there were things in my past I knew he couldn’t accept; things that had shaped me into a manhe couldn’t possibly want. Though it killed me to do so, I knew I’d made the right decision. I would surely carry regret, but at least I had a night of wonderful memories to accompany it.

He used his key to unlock the front door, and he typed in a code on the security system. Entering the gym together felt strange. We were surrounded by an air of confusion and disappointment, which made me feel even worse. I wanted Troy more than he could know, but I was protecting both of us.

The air was all we were surrounded by; the gym was completely empty, as it had closed about a half an hour before. If we’d skipped our pool game, we would have run into other clients. It may have been less awkward that way, but I wouldn’t give up our game for anything. I’d never forget Troy’s impressed smile or the pride in his eyes.

Without a word, I made my way into the locker room to change into my workout clothes. I placed my duffel bag on the bench and unzipped it, groaning at what I found; I’d been so distracted and excited by the idea of seeing Troy, I packed two pairs of shorts, but no t-shirt. I rolled my eyes at myself and changed into a pair of red athletic shorts. I unbuttoned the sleeves of my dress shirt and rolled them up; it was the best I could do.

Mac gave me a strange look when I walked into the gym, so I explained with a shrug, “I forgot to bring a t-shirt. I’m a dumbass.”

“That’s definitely not true, Mr. CIA,” he replied with a wink, and some of the tension surrounding us dissipated. “Let’s get warmed up.”

He led me over to a speed bag and showed me how to use it; hitting it in small circles with both of my hands close to thebag. He said it would get my muscles loose, and get my heart rate up.

It also got my irritation level up. Every time I got going at a decent speed, my sleeves would roll down and flop over my hands. I’d groan, push them back up, and start again, but I never reached a great pace or rhythm.

After a few minutes, Troy took mercy on me and said that was enough warm up time. “Let’s review what we went over a couple of days ago,” he suggested, and raised his hands in front of his chest as he stepped before me.

I squared my hips and brought my hands up in a blocking stance. I pulled backward before punching his hand, angling my knuckles like he’d shown me.

“Don’t hold back,” he requested, nodding for me to go again.

I wasn’t trying to hold back, but my dress shirt was inhibiting my full movement. Whenever I tried to twist my hips, the tight fabric rubbed against my skin. I couldn’t use the full rotation of my shoulders.

“I really wish I’d brought a different shirt,” I thought out loud. “This one has me all tied up.”

Mac caught me by total surprise when he offered, “Do you want mine?” as he grabbed the hem of his shirt and whipped the cotton off over his head.

My eyes and jaw popped open at the same time as I stared at his naked torso. It was rude, but impossible to stop. His body was incredible. Mounds of muscle were carved into his stomach, while a splash of dark hair on his chest added a touch of softness.

His arms were swollen with strength, barely containing the veins pushed up against his skin. Two deep lines were cut into his pelvis, disappearing behind the fabric of his shorts.Holy mother of Muscle Milk.

“You’re huge,” I squeaked out as all common sense fled from my body.Why the hell did I say that?

“I guess itwouldbe too big on you,” Mac agreed, looking at the shirt in his hands as he thankfully disregarded my comment. “Swimming in a shirt wouldn’t make it any easier than being restricted by one.”

Did he put his shirt back on and save me from slobbering all over myself? No. He tossed the fabric against the wall, and stood there in all his god-like glory, not realizing he was about to give me a heart attack.

“Actually, why don’t you just take yours off too? That way you can move easily.”

Yeah, Avery, why don’t you take off your shirt so you can be half naked with the hottest man in the universe while he shows you how to move your body?I tried my best to come up with a good excuse, but my mind was too occupied with imagining what was under those shorts.

Besides, wouldn't giving an excuse make it more obvious that I was attracted to him? And wouldn't that make my declination that much more confusing? Having free movementwasimportant in fighting.

Before my brain was on board, my fingers were plucking the buttons on my chest. I kept my eyes on Troy’s delicious form as I popped the last button free and pushed the lightweight cotton off of my arms. Cool air kissed my skin and caused it to pebble, tightening my nipples to sharp points.

Our bodies wereverydifferent. Mac was tall, broad, and stacked with muscle. I was short and slim with zero tone. The only dips in my skin were the visible spaces between my ribs. So why was he staring at me like I was the steak, and not just the bone? I had to be mistaken.

But it sure didn't feel like it; not with the way his eyes darkened and slowly grazed across my chest. His tongue traced across his lips as he admired my stomach before looking hungrily into my eyes. No one had ever looked at me like that.

My heart raced as he approached, moving slowly but deliberately. He was making his intentions clear, but giving me space to move away. But I couldn’t; my body was frozen with both intrigue and panic.

Troy stepped close enough that I could feel his breath on my forehead as he towered over me, looking down with tender heat in his gaze. “You are so beautiful, Avery.” My blood warmed, but my hands tingled as if they were cold as he inched his face closer to mine.

His lips puckered, but just before they could press against mine, I turned my head, and he barely brushed against my cheek. Mac took a respectful step back. He appeared hurt and confused, but not angry. His voice was quiet when he asked, “Why are you pushing me away, Shortstack? Did I do something wrong?”

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