Page 37 of Altered By Lead (Undercover Sinners 2)
Only … as annoying as his attitude is, it’s also turning me on, too.
I have serious issues, don’t I?
Hawke trails behind me until we get to the gym, and then continues on, toward the bathroom in the back corner.
"Get in," he says, and my mouth opens. If he's planning on fucking me, I'm going to say no. I shouldn't have even said yes to Weston last night and yet …
"Boss," Mace says, surprising me. He sits up on one of the weight machines and looks between the two of us with a concerned expression on his handsome face. He's seriously given me the worst cold shoulder out of the whole group. I don't understand, especially when he was arguably the nicest one when we stayed at the church. "Everything okay?"
"If I need you, I'll call you," is Hawke's snapped response. He holds out a hand to indicate the bathroom, and I know I really only have one good choice. I either go in there and take whatever punishment he's about to dish out, or I'm done in this life. He'll fire me for being insubordinate, kick my ass out into the Oregon woods.
Fuck.
I lick my lower lip and move inside, turning around to face him.
He moves into the room and locks the door behind us.
"So, he came at you, you ducked and went for his balls?"
I'm shaking now, but I can't figure out why. Is Hawke planning on actually running through a scenario with me? Fucking me? Which of those two things do I want? Or do I really want him to bend me over and spank me as punishment, like Arsen suggested.
"Thoughts out of the gutter!" Hawke bellows, and I snap to like a soldier. "Come for me. Hit me as hard as you can in the crotch."
"But—" I only manage to get that one word out before Hawke lunges at me, and my mind snaps into fight mode. I do exactly what I did to the biker asshole, but I guess my new boss is a much tougher motherfucker than that jerk at the bar because he stops me with an elbow to the neck.
I have a feeling he could’ve killed me if he wanted. Instead, I find myself on my knees with an aching neck, and Hawke yelling at me to get up and run it again. And again. And again. By the third time he puts an elbow into the back of my neck, I'm shaking and sweating and ready to kill something.
"How am I supposed to learn if you don't tell me how to fix my mistakes?!" I scream, but Hawke gives me nothing.
"Run it again."
I do, and this time, I'm so goddamn pissed that I manage to actually get under his defenses and jab an elbow into him. Unfortunately, he's wearing a cup, so I don't get that deep satisfaction of sending the asshole's scrotum so far up his taint that he'll need a fishing line to pull it out.
I roll out of the way, my shoulder hitting the sink in the tight space, and then spring to my feet.
"Cheater," I grind out, but Hawke's enraged expression has cooled to a dark neutral. Much easier to handle.
"You have to learn to actually give a shit about your life if you want to keep it," he tells me, but before I get a chance to dissect that bit of information, he's turning toward me and readying himself for the next part of the scenario. "Kick me, just like you tried to do to him."
I glance back at the hard tile floor and then reach up to rub at the bump on the back of my head. Taking an elbow to the neck a few times is one thing, but hitting my head over and over again? The thought alone is giving me a headache.
I turn back to Hawke, lick my lips, and try to think about what went wrong last night. Did I kick too high and put myself off balance? This time, I decide to go for Hawke's knees. He's so tall, it seems like a better place to try for than some sort of ninja-like high kick that has me spinning like a goddamn ballerina.
"Good," he says, even though he catches my kick anyway, pushing me back and sparing me the agony of hitting my head to learn a lesson. "Run it again."
Cursing under my breath, I shake my hands out and ready myself.
Hawke and I move through the entire thing from start to finish for god only knows how long. There are no windows in that bathroom, and I swear, it feels like the entire universe is narrowing to a single, focused point. When Hawke touches me, it isn't so chaste as he'd want it to be. I can feel it when his fingers wrap my calf to block a kick, when he curls his fingers around mine to lift me to my feet, when I spin and accidentally end up in his arms.
