Page 39 of Bourbon Sins
I seethed in my seat as I thought about how wrong Kace was. If anyone was a victim, it was me, not Natasha and it sure as fuck wasn’t Rex, who stole her away from me.
Taking a swig of my bourbon, I felt the warm liquid slip down my throat as I thought about Goldie and what Kace said. There was no way I could let her go, especially if I hadn’t had her yet; there was no way. She was an itch I needed to scratch and, until I did, I was going to be extremely uncomfortable.
Chapter Seventeen
“The Monster”
GOLDIE / LO
Sleep eluded me as I lay awake in bed, staring at the wood-paneled ceiling that spanned the length of my room. The square cuts of the molding boggled my mind because I thought, who the hell would spend so much time on a ceiling, which was barely looked at, except at times like this? Maybe that was why people decorated ceilings in precise square formations, for those who couldn’t sleep.
There was also a dull pounding that kept me awake. At first I thought it might be coming from the Bourbon Room, but knew that wasn’t the case because all the girls came and said goodnight to me before they tucked in for bed. That was the good thing about being surrounded by girls, they all cared for each other, which I still couldn’t get over. They were so sweet, maybe because deep down, we all saw a little piece of ourselves in each other’s eyes.
The pounding was starting to get on my nerves and there was no use in trying to go to sleep, so instead of being a good little Jett Girl in-training and putting myself to sleep, I decided to follow the sound. I put on my robe, slipped on the yellow fuzzy slippers that were provided for me, and walked out of my room. I followed the back stairs so I didn’t have to wear a mask, just in case, but I knew no one would be around at this hour. However, the last thing I needed was Kace kicking me out of the house for not wearing a damn mask.
As I got closer to the pounding, I noticed it was coming from a room next to the gym I frequented almost every morning, thanks to Kace’s strict regimen.
I walked closer to the room and, before I pushed the door open, I took a second to think about what I was about to do. What if Jett was in there? Would he be mad if I walked in on him doing who knew what?
I was about to turn away when I heard the musical stylings of Eminem come through the wall. I was intrigued, and I had to see what was happening on the other side of the wall.
Slowly, I opened the door as a bright light shown through. My eyes had to adjust from the dark hallway I was occupying, but when they did, I saw the most gorgeous back I had ever seen. It was tan with rippled muscles spanning every inch. The man who belonged to the gorgeous back wore low-riding gym shorts that showed off the waistband of his black boxer-briefs.
Taking my eyes off the pert ass that went along with the muscular back, I saw what the pounding noise was: he was boxing and, good God, was he good at it.
I felt myself walk inside the room and sit down on a box facing the bag; I watched the man take out all of his frustration on it.
It wasn’t until he turned around that I saw it was Kace.
Shit, I knew he was hot, but after seeing him pound the fuck out of that punching bag, I itched to be close to him.
He continued to punch the bag with more force than I thought was possible. I watched as his pecs flexed with each blow and then pulled back quickly. His biceps were sculpted precisely to every corded muscle God gave him. He had a tattoo that ran along his ribcage, but it was in such loopy cursive that I couldn’t make out what it said. It didn’t matter, because it was fucking hot no matter what it said. It could say cat poop face and I wouldn’t care.
Kace continued to punch the bag until he turned and faced me. That was when he stepped back from his bag and looked me up and down. I returned the favor, and I knew I was rewarded with a better view than he was. His skin glistened with sweat and was rippling in every direction you could think. Mother of God I had a lady boner.
Turning off the music with his foot, he looked at me and said, “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m pretty sure you could blast someone’s face off with that punch. Remind to never make you mad.”
“Too late,” he said, as he used his mouth to tear off the tape from his gloves that held them on tight. Fuck, I was so horny; I wished I was the tape that his mouth caressed. That instead of him tearing off the tape, he was tearing my panties off and devouring my pussy with that sensual, scruff-covered mouth of his. There was something seriously wrong with me.
“Seriously, you’re good.”
“I know.” He pulled a water bottle from the fridge, splashed water on his face, and then swallowed some. I watched like a creepy pervert as the water ran down his sculpted body and tried not to finger myself right then and there from the erotic scene unfolding in front of me. Now I knew why there were jerk off booths in the Toulouse Room, holy shit.
“You’re pretty sure of yourself.”
He peeked over his water bottle and said, “Well, since I used to be one of the top professional boxers in the country, I’d think I should know how to punch a bag hanging right in front of me.”
“You used to be a boxer?” I asked, ignoring that snarky tone I was so used to him using with me.
“Yeah.”
Okay . . .
“Care to elaborate?”
“Nope.” He grabbed a towel and wiped down his body as I continued to enjoy the show.
