Page 91 of Insta Bride
“I’m going to the gym,” he said, returning from our bedroom already changed. Shit. He’d been gone less than two minutes.
“You’re what?”
“I’m going to the gym, Elena.”
“Of course, you are.” The navy-blue shorts hugged his ass and allowed my eyes to drink in his muscular, tanned legs. No office worker should look that hot. As usual, the black tank top made my heart skip beats and my panties need changing. Except, I still needed to ask stupid questions, craving reassurance that I wanted to believe, “What’s her name?”
“Fuck. Are you serious?”
“Well, it seems whenever we hit a rough patch, you’re either going out with clients or going to the gym. It’s nine o’clock at night. Who gets up and goes to the gym at nine.”
“I do, if I’m not getting up at five and doing it tomorrow morning.”
“Whatever.” I pulled the throw-rug around me. Needing some sort of comfort because Kye sure as hell wasn’t going to give it to me, not tonight.
“Come with me.”
To my surprise, Kye tried to peel away the blanket. Lacing his fingers with mine, teasingly, until I let it go.
“What?”
“Come with me. I’m pissed at what your friends said. You’re pissed at me. Let’s go to the gym.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to put on some boxing gloves and punch the shit out of the bag and I figure you can put on some boxing gloves and pretend you’re punching the shit out of me.”
“Really?”
“Why not? What have you got to lose?”
“I’m in my PJs.”
“Yeah, and I prefer you out of your PJs. So, either put on some sexy little yoga pants and give me a reason not to leave this place any time soon, or chuck on some sweats and we’ll go to the gym.”
Half an hour later, we were downtown and Kye’s pass let us both into his 24-hour gym.
He seemed to know all of the guys there. At this hour, I was the only female in the building, but they all knew me by name. And joked that it was about time Kye introduced me to his world.
“Keeping you all to all himself isn’t healthy, babe.” Steve flirted. “Anytime you get sick of him, you give me a call. Better still, meet me here and I’ll make sure I’ll help you stretch whatever muscles he’s been ignoring.”
“Kye, I like your friends,” I smiled as they kitted me out with gloves and Kye made sure they fit comfortably.
“Of course, you do. You seem to like anyone who pisses me off.”
We laughed, bantered, and I had fun punching the bag. Kye baited me before I threw every punch, urging me to imagine the girl who posted the photos online just to get a reaction.
“Give me a reaction.” He goaded. “Give it to me now, baby. Think of her and give it to me.”
“Okay, okay,” Steve called from across the weight area. “Can’t you guys leave that soppy shit for the bedroom? Install your own bag and punch and fuck in private.”
I threw punch after punch until it hurt to think about raising my arm again. Exhausted, I collapsed against a corner wall and Kye offered me a bottle of water. I hadn’t realised how much frustration I’d been holding. For the first time in weeks, my shoulders didn’t feel like they needed an hour long massage. Even my neck muscles were relaxed. My arms wanted to disown me, but the rest of me felt, happy.
“Okay.” Kye pulled me to his feet, not minding my sweaty body dissolved into his arms. “Home time. Bedtime for my tired princess.”
“But you didn’t get anything out of your workout.”
“Yeah. I did. Just not the way I expected.”