Page 20 of Price of Victory
“I’m thinking it’s been a while. Months, maybe. You’ve got that wound-up, frustrated energy that comes from not getting enough attention.” His eyes swept over my face, cataloging every reaction. “Are you a virgin, Rhett? Is that what this is about?”
“No, I’m not a fucking virgin,” I snapped, louder than I’d intended. A couple of the other gym users looked over, and I lowered my voice. “My sex life is just fine, thanks.”
“Is it? Because from where I’m standing, you seem pretty tense. I could help with that, you know.”
The suggestion sent a bolt of heat straight to my cock, making it pulse lazily, and I had to grip my water bottle tighter to keep my hands from shaking. “In your dreams, Whitmore.”
“Oh, you’re definitely in my dreams.” The smile that spread across his face was pure sin. “Don’t worry, though. I know I’m pretty big, but I can be gentle when the situation calls for it.”
I wanted to come back with something cutting, something that would wipe that smug expression off his face, but my brain seemed to have short-circuited. All I could think about was the way he’d said “gentle,” like he was making me a promise.
“My sex life was perfectly fine until you showed up,” I said before I could stop myself.
The words hung in the air between us, and I immediately knew I’d made a mistake. Aiden’s eyes lit up like I’d just handed him the keys to the kingdom.
“Was it now?” He leaned against the wall, clearly settling in for a longer conversation. “So what you’re telling me is that my presence has somehow disrupted your ability to get laid. That’s interesting.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Isn’t it? Because it sounds like you’re admitting that you want me so badly it’s ruined every other guy for you.”
“It’s because you’re a walking turnoff,” I said, but even as the words left my mouth, I knew they sounded weak. My voice came out breathy and flustered, completely failing to deliver the message I’d intended.
“Right. A turnoff. That’s why you’ve been eye-fucking me for the past hour.”
“I haven’t been?—”
“That’s why you can’t seem to stay away from wherever I am in this gym. That’s why you’re breathing like you’ve been running a marathon, even though you’ve been standing still for the past five minutes.”
He was right, and we both knew it. My heart was pounding, my skin felt too tight, and every word out of his mouth was making it worse. This was dangerous territory, the kind of attraction that could destroy everything I’d worked for.
But God, I wanted him. I wanted him so badly it was making me dizzy, making me forget every reason this was a terrible idea. I wanted to get back at him.
“You’re impossible,” I muttered, turning away from him and heading toward the locker room. I needed space, needed to get away from his presence before I did something I’d regret.
Of course, he followed me.
The locker room was empty except for us, fluorescent lights humming overhead and the sound of water running in one of the shower stalls. The air was thick with humidity and the lingering scent of soap and sweat. I went to my locker and started gathering my things, trying to ignore the way Aiden moved to the bench behind me, trying not to listen to the soft sounds he made as he started to undress.
The rustle of fabric, the soft thud of his shoes hitting the floor, the metallic clink of his belt buckle. Each sound seemed amplified in the empty space, making my skin prickle with awareness.
“Running away again, Morrison?”
“I’m going home. Some of us have early classes tomorrow.”
“It’s barely midnight. The night’s still young.”
I turned around to find him much closer than I’d expected, close enough to see the sweat still beading on his forehead, close enough to catch the scent of his skin. He was starting to undress, pulling his shirt over his head in one smooth motion that revealed the lean lines of his torso.
I tried not to look, but it was impossible. He was beautiful in a way that made me furious, all smooth skin and defined muscle and confident movement. When he started working on his shorts, I had to force myself to look away.
“Do I bother you that much?” he asked, and there was amusement in his voice.
When I glanced back, he was standing in just his boxer briefs. Black ones with little eggplants printed all over them, which was so ridiculous it should have killed the mood entirely. Instead, it somehow made him more appealing, more human. The fabric clung to his hips, and I had to force my eyes back to his face before I did something embarrassing like stare.
My mouth had gone completely dry, and my heart was beating so fast I felt lightheaded.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
