Page 97 of Warrior's Walk
“8.7,” I call out, letting him know it’s all or nothing if he wants to beat his time.
Rhett screams a primal cry and pumps his arms, gaining speed as he runs balls-to-the-wall. He slaps the stop button on the machine when it beeps, alerting him that he completed the mile.
I click my stopwatch. “9.2 minutes!”
The crowd goes wild, shouting and clapping. Rhett glows with positivity. God, he’s gorgeous.I’m so going to fuck him tonight.Even if he’s worn out, I just need him to lie there. I’ll gladly do all the work.
“Next up, suicide lunges.”
The guys groan, but Rhett rallies. “Nah, I’ve got this.”
He starts at one wall and gets into position, widening his stance. When I blow my whistle, he takes off, falling into a deep lunge with each step.
“My legs are fuckin’ burnin’ like hellfire,” he calls out when he’s halfway across the gym. He’s crossing the shorter side, not the longer length of the room.
“You got this, soldier. Make me proud.” Watching him struggle past the limits of his endurance makes my heart clench tight. This is what I gave it all up for, and Rhett makes it so worthwhile. All my patients do. This is where I belong, helping to heal the aftermath of war after these vets sacrificed everything, and then some. I don’t belong on the battlefield,feeding the cycle of war. I belong here in the gym, with these brave wounded warriors. This is my true calling.
Rhett glances back, shooting me a tired grin. “If it doesn’t hurt, you’re not doing it right,” he shouts, gritting his teeth.
Hearing him repeat my motivational sayings is just making me hard. This isnotthe best time to get turned on.
He’s nearly to the wall when he falters, his knee buckling, but Rhett catches himself and straightens. “Fuck!” He hisses through the burn of his muscles and pushes on. When he reaches the wall, he lunges forward in a rush and smacks it hard. “Shit, yeah!”
I can’t help myself. I hug him hard, crushing his sweaty body in my arms. “I’m so fucking proud of you.” He doesn’t care who’s watching, Rhett smacks a quick hard kiss on my lips. “Last test of endurance is the pool,” I call out.
We cross the hall to the indoor pool. I’m behind Rhett, and I can’t help but notice the way his ass sways in those thin nylon shorts from his slight limp. As if he can feel my eyes on him, Rhett glances over his shoulder. “You checking out my ass?”
You bet I am. “I’m not ogling your ass. I’m analyzing your gait. It’s my job.”
Rhett laughs loudly and Brewer comes up behind me, clapping me on the back. “You were totally checking out his ass.”
The crowd gathers around the perimeter of the pool and Rhett wastes no time. He kicks off his shoes and jumps right in, clothes and all. When he surfaces, he shakes his head, sending a spray of water in my direction.
“You’re going to swim a half-mile, which is fifteen laps. Touch the wall on each pass. Your fastest time so far is twenty-two minutes.”
“You got this, Rhett,” Nash calls. Their little synchronized swim team training has really paid off.
Rhett’s body is lean and toned from all his running and swimming, and I can’t keep my hands or my eyes off it lately. Not that I ever could. I’m addicted to him like a drug. All he has to do is give me that look or show off his dimpled grin, and I pant after him like a dog in heat.
He takes off when he hears my whistle, pushing off from the wall. He cuts through the water with ease, kicking his legs and sluicing his arms. It’s almost beautiful to watch.
With less than a minute left on his best time, I call out, “Twenty-one minutes,” to spur him on. He’s on his last lap. There’s no way he isn’t going to make it.
“Ten, nine, eight.” I count down the seconds remaining on his best time. “Seven, six…” Everyone loses their shit before I can say five. Rhett touches the wall and jumps halfway out of the water, fist-pumping the air.
West stands at the edge holding a little brass bell. Rhett pushes up and rings it hard, signaling the completion of his long, hard journey in rehab. The guys jump in the pool, fully dressed, and dog pile him.
I’m grinning so hard my cheeks hurt and my eyes grow wet. Why did I ever think he was a wildcard? Rhett Marsh is a sure fucking bet, just like he promised me he was.
He climbs out of the pool and hugs me, sopping wet, and then we’re falling into the pool. “My clipboard,” I yell in a panic, tossing it over the edge to safety.
“The chlorine is good for it, might make theSharpiedicks fade,” West cracks, sending a volley of water in my direction.
I grab Rhett and crush my lips to his. My warrior. My lover.
My whole life.
“So fucking proud of you,” I breathe against his lips. “And that ass is mine tonight.” I squeeze his ass and he hops up, wrapping his legs around my waist and deepening the kiss.