Page 17 of Fight or Flight
He glances over his shoulder at me, and a weird, tight feeling fills my chest at the intensity of his stare. “First you want me toleave, then you tell me how repulsive you think I am, and now you’re questioning why I’m leaving. You really need to pick a lane, bro.”
“Or maybe you need to admit that you only came in here to piss me off,” I shoot back.
“And maybe you need to talk to someone about the main character syndrome you have,” he says, some of his earlier nonchalance melting away. “Not everything is about you.”
“Whatever.” I grab one of the wraps I tossed on the bench and start rolling it back up so I have something to do with my hands, and something to focus on that isn’t Jace and the mental whiplash this conversation has given me. “Go ahead and run away. At least it’ll be quiet around here again.”
Why the fuck am I needling him like this? He was about to leave, which is what I want. Why am I still arguing with him and not just shutting up and taking the W?
I make the mistake of looking up at him, and the stare he’s leveling at me is enough to make me forget what I was about to say as we get locked in a sort of staring contest.
More of that weird heat fills my chest, and a strange sense of awareness settles over me. I try to hold his gaze, but I hastily look away when something deep in my stomach flutters, almost like being in a free fall.
Jace’s grin is dark and full of something I can’t read when I glance up at him again, but he just shoots me a wink and heads over to one of the heavy boxing bags about a dozen feet from where I’m standing. He doesn’t spare me another glance as he tosses his shirt over the barre attached to the mirror and gets into a fighting stance in front of the bag with his back to me.
I unconsciously check out his form before I can stop myself. He doesn’t set up like a boxer, or even like a guy who boxes for fun. It also doesn’t look like any sort of martial arts stance I’ve ever seen.
I have no idea what I’m expecting him to do, but the leaping roundhouse kick he delivers to the bag makes my jaw drop with both shock and awe as the force of the impact sends the bag swinging wildly. And I can’t look away as he flawlessly delivers several lightning-fast punches and kicks to the bag that echo in the quiet gym with each impact.
Holy shit.
I knew Jace could fight, considering how many times I’ve seen him scrap with someone, and from the two times I found myself fighting him, but I thought he was a brawler. Like he learned to fight with his brother and cousins and perfected his technique by practicing on all the guys he’s pissed off over the years. I always assumed he didn’t have any real technique beyond fast reflexes and brute strength.
Where the fuck has he been hidingthosemoves?
I’m so dumbfounded by the hell he’s unleashing on the bag that I stand there like a dumbass and stare at him until he finally stops beating the fuck out of it and grabs it with two hands to steady it.
A thin sheen of sweat covers his back, the muscles bunching and popping in a way that’s far too interesting as he stands there with all the presence of an apex predator who just took down their prey.
Slowly, he looks over his shoulder at me. The wildness in his eyes and the hint of a smile ghosting his lips send a wave of awareness through me that warms my chest and makes my dick pulse and thicken.
What the fuck?
I resist the urge to cover my semi so I don’t bring attention to it, but the silky material of my athletic shorts does nothing to hide it, and Jace’s grin deepens as he flicks his gaze to my crotch.
Not thinking about what I’m doing or how it looks, I swipe up my water bottle from where I stashed it on the bench and race out of the gym like the devil is on my ass.
Jace’s laughter follows me as I dart into the hall and slow my steps to a quick walk.
What the fuck just happened in there? And why the hell am I hard?
3
JACE
Jace:where the fuck are you?
SpareParts: the boondocks
I pause walking and type out a response to my brother.
Jace: are you coming home tonight?
Spare Parts: no
I bite back a little huff of annoyance at the change of plans.
Jace: k
