Page 83 of Savage King
“You’re always good company,” he says over his shoulder, and I have no choice but to follow him to the elevator. He presses the button for the third floor, and when we step off the elevator, I lift an eyebrow.
Because this is better than any gym I’ve ever belonged to. It must take up the entire floor, and there’s even a boxing ring. A bag hangs from the ceiling, and there are free weights, along with any cardio machine a person could want.
“Is that a yoga studio?” I ask in surprise.
“I don’t use it, but yeah. If you want to hire an instructor to come in, we can do that.”
“I already belong to a gym, you know.”
“Keep the membership,” he says with a shrug. “Every penny you’ve ever paid there has been refunded to you, by the way.”
My jaw drops, and I stare at him as he pulls a basket out from under a bench by the ring and takes out some tape.
“How am I supposed to stay mad when you do sweet things?”
“You’re not mad atme.” He smiles at me with so much patience, it almost makes me cry again. “You’re just pissed off, and I get it. Remember our talk in my office?”
I take a deep breath, and he nods.
“I understand needing to punch the fuck out of something. So you’re going to beat whatever you want. The bag, the speed bag,me.” He grins. “Pick your poison.”
“I don’t want to hit you,” I reply with a whisper, and he walks to me, cups my face, and kisses me softly.
“The punching bag, then.”
I nod, and my hands are still shaking, so I let him wrap my knuckles so I don’t bloody them up, and then I stride right over to the bag and go to fucking town.
I keep picturing that asshole,Lincoln, and his hands on my sister, and I hit the bag right where his fucking jaw would be.
I’m starting to sweat, and my shirt is sticking to me, so I take it off and toss it aside and then keep going. Jabs and hooks and uppercuts with all my body weight and force.
Mateo has to stand behind the bag to keep it steady for me when I almost send it off its hook.
“Punch him in the balls,” he orders me, and I hit the bag right at groin level.
He calls out other hits, and I follow his lead. I can empty my mind andhit this fucker.
When I can’t lift my arms anymore, they fall to my side, and I pace away, breath heaving, sweat dripping, feeling alittlebetter.
“You’re fucking ferocious,” Mateo says with a proud set to his jaw, those brown eyes gleaming and his arms crossed over his chest. I can’t take my eyes off his sculpted biceps. “I’d never allow it, but you would be a fucking killer in the cage.”
“You’d neverallow it?” I lift an eyebrow, and he grins, as if I’m adorable.
“No. I wouldn’t. Because the second someone dared to raise a fist to you, I’d fucking kill them.”
“That really takes the sport out of it for me.”
He laughs, and my shoulders loosen.
“Someday, I’d like to take classes again,” I admit and accept the bottle of water he offers me and let him peel the tape off my hands. “The sparring was fun.”
“I’ll spar with you,” he reminds me, but I shake my head.
“You don’t hit back.”
“Fuck no, I’m not going to hit you, Savage, and neither is anyone else.”
“Okay, overprotective boyfriend, but when you’repracticing, you have to hit and get hit. It’s part of it.”
