Page 72 of Rules Of Our Own

I rip the rest of my gear off and grab my stuff to head to the shower.

“Don’t bother. We’ve got an hour in the gym.”

My head whips around to River. “I didn’t hear the coach say that!”

He shuts his locker and folds his arms across his chest. “’Cause he didn’t. I’m saying it.”

“Fuck, man. We’re supposed to lay off now that the season’s starting.”

“Get your shit.” He turns and walks out the door, as if it’s a given I’d follow.

I groan and grab my shit, proving the fucker right. This is going to be brutal.

* * *

A bead of sweat trails down my bare chest, and my back sticks to the leather bench as I lower the weights behind my head.

“Five. You’ve got three more in you.” River’s voice is a low rumble that sets my nerves on edge. He stands behind me, so close the fabric of his shorts skim the bench. I can smell the sharp tang of salt with each inhale. He’s spotting for me, and his hands hover below mine, ready to catch the weights if I fail the set.

There’s a distant sound of clanging metal, but the world is muffled, like we’re in our own little bubble. Exercise always makes me tune in to my body, to narrow down on each movement, but this is different. This is like the world paused, and all there is, is River and me, inches away from each other.

My arms drop an inch, and his fingertips graze my knuckles, sending an electric shock up the back of my arms. I swallow hard. My heart thuds in my chest, the tempo ringing in my ears, and I try to focus on the steel ceiling and not on River’s sweat-soaked hair. If I shift my gaze a millimeter back, I’ll be able to see the firm lines of his abs and the dusting of black hair that runs down their center and tucks into the band of his gray gym shorts. My gaze moves there instinctively, and I catch the hard bulge outlined beneath the thin fabric. I lose concentration, and my arms drop. I swallow hard, getting my shit together. Slowly, I continue to lower the weight until my arms are extended back parallel to my head and then bring them up above my face.

“Good. That’s six.”

I ignore the way River’s voice reels in my attention, and I push through the intense burn in my arms. Exercise is all about precision. Control. Which is exactly why I need to get my head on straight before I fuck my shit up.

“Seven. There you go. Give me one more,” River says encouragingly, and a minuscule shiver trails down my neck. Fuck, why do I like that so much?

I drop my arms back again, even though they ache like crazy. My muscles twitch, and my arms shake at the bottom of my rep as I struggle to bring them back up. The burn shifts into a ripping sensation, and I tense, allowing my back to bow off the bench.Fuck.

Hands so hot they practically sear my skin grab my arms just above my elbows. “I’ve got you.”

He supports my arms, instantly curing the pain, but the only thing my mind registers is him. It’s like every fucking molecule of my being is focused on his touch. His callused fingers scrape my skin, leaving me feeling raw. I’m coated in sweat, and his hands glide, creating a deliciously wicked sensation as he changes his grip to support my elbows.

The motion allows him to take off the weight, and my eyes meet his. He’s looking down, and where I expected a raised eyebrow for dropping a rep that should’ve been easy, he’s watching me. His mouth is open, and his chest rises and falls in small pants. His black eyes dance between mine, trying to find whatever he’s looking for. Sweat pools at the top of his lip, and I groan when his pink tongue comes out to lick it off.

His expression goes blank, and he adjusts to help me up. “I’m sorry. I pushed you too hard.”

“It’s fine.” I grab a cloth off the floor beside the bench and wipe the sweat from my face. My heart is still beating a fucking mile a minute, and I use the fabric to help hide the reaction while I take a few calming breaths.

“How’s your arm? Did you tear anything? We can pick you up some ice on the way out.” River’s practically rambling, and I drop my cloth to look at him.

Why did he sound like he cares so fucking much? Like he felt responsible for the outcome and guilty about how it went. People tear muscles lifting weights every day, but it wouldn’t have been his fault. So why is he so intent on checking to make sure I’m okay, and why do I like it so much?

CHAPTER35

MIA

“I’mglad to hear you’re enjoying your time in Boston.” Gerard’s, my sponsor from AstroCore, voice comes through my phone. I’m in the apartment lobby with my cell tucked into my ear as I pace in a ten-foot-long oval. The rubber soles of my shoes squeak on the gleaming marble floor with each step.

I’d been on my way out to visit Piper’s clinic when Gerard unexpectedly called. He wants an update on where I’m at with my funding ideas for Prosthetics For Kids, and I just manage to distract him from asking too many questions by going on about how cool the city is.

“Yeah, it’s pretty great here. You should check it out sometime,” I say, voice a little too high, filling any gaps in our conversation that could open up room for inquiry. I just need to get through this freaking call without letting him know I don’t have anything new for him.

“I’ll actually be in town this week. I’ll have my administrator set up a meeting. I’m looking forward to hearing what you’ve come up with.”

What?“Ah…okay.”

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