Compulsion: Magnetic Desires (26 page)

I clenched and released my hands. Taking a beating of my own had been like a drug in its own way. The sting and ache in my flesh numbed my brain and helped to push the memories away. In those first few weeks of soberness when withdrawal had been an insatiable itch in my veins, boxing had made it that little bit easier to deal with. That feeling was what I needed tonight.

The girl behind the desk sported a red and black singlet with
Tom’s Gym
printed across the back in white lettering. I rapped my knuckles on the desk once to get her attention, and she slipped a file back into the cabinet before coming over to the counter.

"I want to sign up."

Her gaze traveled over me, and her lips parted a little in a gape. I winked and gave her a wry grin. Running her hands down the side of her shirt, she darted her tongue out over her top lip in open invitation. I hadn’t planned on doubling up my workout, but it would be easy to get a session in and then convince her to let me take her home for the night.

Leaning over, she retrieved a new file and opened it up. "You need to fill this in."

"Thanks." I scooped up a pen and started filling in the paperwork, while covertly running my gaze over her. She had a classic face, with wide brown eyes and plump lips. Her raven hair pulled up in a bun sat high on her head, and she showed off firm muscular legs in black shorts. How flexible would she be? I pushed the file back toward her. "Do you mind if I have a look around?"

She glanced at the file, and waved her hand in the direction of the door that led into the main room. "Go for it. I’ll enter your information into the system, Drake."

The way she drew my name out on a breath had me imagining how it would sound when she screamed it out later.

Sauntering over to the door, I stepped inside the main gym area. The smell of sweat hung in the air, and I propped myself against the wall as I drank it in. Why had it taken me so long to get back to boxing? Two boxers danced around the ring as they each tried to score hits against their opponent, and I found myself tapping my fingers against my leg in impatience.

A movement on my left caught my attention, and I let out a low whistle as I took in the girl working over her bag. Her light brown hair swung low in a ponytail against her back, but hadn’t escaped the sweat that ran down her face and neck and caused her skin to glisten. My gaze glued to her, I watched her throw jab after jab at the bag. She grunted and used her glove to wipe the sweat from her face before she continued. The girl at the desk was no longer appealing. I wanted to have at the pint sized bombshell in front of me. Her control barely hid the volatility that shimmered beneath the surface, and I wanted her to work me over with the same intensity she used on the bag.

Birdie

I jabbed the bag again, and the chain holding it from the ceiling creaked. The bag swayed gently while I wiped a glove across my forehead. Sweat ran in a rivulet down the straps of my top, and I flicked my tongue along my lips to swipe the moisture away. The taste of salt invaded my mouth as I bounced on the balls of my feet and punched the bag a couple more times.

Despite the exhaustion that stole through my muscles, leaving me an aching mess of jelly, I found the process of physical control exhilarating. It was the only time I could truly be myself. The only decision I had to make was how to hit the bag. Over the past six months I’d built strength, but more importantly I’d learned how to deal with the men at the gym. Something I never thought I would be able to do.

When I had first walked into the gym, I’d stared at the floor while Tom showed me around. My heart had pattered an off kilter beat when the gym went silent and all the men stopped what they were doing. Their gazes on me had almost been too much, and I’d thought about leaving and forgetting the whole idea. But, I’d come to feel stronger and to deal with my demons. Boxing had given me so much more.

Now, the others barely noticed me, and if they did, they treated me as one of their own, as one of the guys. The room echoed with the thumps of fists hitting bags, and in the center ring, of fists hitting flesh.

Peeling off my gloves, I dumped them on the mat before reaching for my water bottle. I drank half the contents and tossed it back in my bag, along with the gloves. Arms over my head, fingertips to shoulder blade, I cupped my elbow with my other hand and concentrated on the burn in my muscles.

When my brother Orion had first found out about what happened he’d been angry, and I didn’t blame him. I’d been foolish and put myself in a position for trouble. It didn’t matter to me that I’d been fourteen. I’d learned my lesson. People couldn’t be trusted and neither could I.

Now, I questioned every decision I made and refused to do anything that would put me in a situation I couldn’t control. Looking at my brother and his wife and how much he'd gone through to get her to trust him, I wished I was brave enough to take the risk. My control was a prison, except when I was boxing. Once I walked out of the gym, I’d walk the same damn tight rope I’d been walking for the past ten years.

Switching arms, I repeated the stretch. Tom waved at me from behind the ring, and I wiggled my fingers at him. Not much older than I was, he’d lived life in a way I’d avoided. As the owner of the gym, he'd gone out of his way from my first visit, to make sure I was comfortable in the testosterone filled environment. He’d watched out for me when I started, making sure the men left me alone and teaching me how to box.

He’d taught me how to stand and how to pivot. Then he’d shown me how to throw a hook and to jab, and patiently worked with me, until I’d gotten the moves down. In six months, I’d learned how to throw a mean uppercut, and my roundhouse kick was so graceful, I looked like a damn ballerina. I’d learned how to hold my own against the men who I trained with, yet I’d never stepped into the center ring despite Tom’s constant cajoling. The idea of being the main attraction, of the guys stopping their sparring and bag work to watch me, made my stomach curdle. I shook out my arms and picked up my bag, hoisting it onto my shoulder. With a parting nod at Tom, I headed toward the exit.

A man leaned on the door frame, and his gaze tracked me as I made my way toward him. His lips twitched as he dropped his gaze to my feet and ran it up over me. A shiver went up my spine at his blatant perusal of my body, but it wasn’t entirely from disgust. My heart skipped a beat, knowing I would have to brush past him to leave, if he didn’t move. Dipping my gaze, I took halting steps, and then, I lifted my chin. He was another boxer at the gym. That was all. Someone new, who I'd get used to given time.

Keeping my gaze steady, I strode toward him. The man rivaled Tom for tattoos. His V-neck shirt hung loosely on him and showed the ink that ran from his chest to his elbows. How much of the skin under his shirt did they cover? I scowled as the odd thought drew my gaze over him. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair, which only added to his appeal and kind of made me wish it was my hand. Piercing blue eyes crinkled in the corners as I took a step to the left so I wouldn’t run into him on my way out the door. Crossing his arms over his chest, he cocked his head in acknowledgment of my move and his mouth tugged up on one side.

I pressed my lips together, ignoring the way my cheeks flamed and my own mouth wanted to mirror his. That intense gaze of his hadn't left me at all as I crossed the room, and I didn’t want to give him any reason to talk to me. Aiming my best scowl at him, I hitched my bag higher on my shoulder, then cast my gaze to the floor. Five more steps and I’d have passed him. Four more steps and he’d made no effort to move. Three more steps and—

"Hello."

How could such a simple word be both sexy and dangerous at the same time? Faltering, I darted a glance at him.
Big mistake.
I could tell he was chuckling by the gentle rumble that emitted from his throat when my gaze snapped to his, but it was his eyes up close that caught my attention. With his gaze locked on mine, I couldn’t drag myself away from him. Caught in a maelstrom of thoughts and sensations that didn’t make sense, the world faded away in the background, and all the while, he stared at me with absolute calm. I told myself to pull away, to drop my gaze and run, but my brain wasn’t in control. He was.
Blink, damn it
. His gravity pulled me closer, tilting my head back to keep the connection.

Straightening up, he grazed my arm with his fingers as he lowered his head a fraction.

"Hey, Birdie, you okay?" Tom’s voice broke through the haze of attraction, and I glanced in his direction. I took a breath, and my lungs welcomed the oxygen they'd been deprived of while under the stranger's thrall. Shaking my head, I backed away from him.

"Uh, yeah. I have to go." I hurried past him, and he called out behind me, causing me to falter for a split second. His pull on me continued even with my back turned, and I bolted out of the gym to my car.

My fingers trembled as I tried to unlock the door. What the hell had just happened? I felt like I’d been too close to the fire and then drenched in ice water. Once inside the car, I sat for a moment as I fought to stop from shaking. I knew what I’d felt, but I had not been prepared for the force of it. The crippling gut wrenching agony of wanting something so bad I could taste it.

I shook my head, trying to clear him from it, and drove out of the parking lot. It would be okay. I’d make sure I didn’t get that close to him again. After all, I hadn’t seen him before. There was no reason for me to run into him again. Perhaps, he wouldn’t even come back to the gym, but it wouldn’t hurt to talk to Tom and find out if he was a regular. My heart still skittered with the effects of the adrenaline that had shot through me when I’d been so close to him.

There was no other choice, but to find out when he boxed and avoid him. My jaw ached, and I stretched it out, wriggling it to loosen the tension headache that was building. Damn him for making the one place I could loosen up into the most dangerous place I could be. I slapped my hand against the steering wheel. I didn’t want to change for anyone, but he’d sucked me in so easily, I couldn’t risk a repeat. If I ran into him again I might not be so lucky, because I had the feeling he could talk me into anything. And the last thing I needed was anything else to regret.

Chapter Two

Drake

She’d ducked her head as she made her way toward me. Her steps hesitant, before she’d lifted that chin of hers in a sexy little show of determination. I should have taken that as a sign; that there was more to her than her gorgeous sweat slicked curves, but no, I decided to make an ass of myself and get in her way.

She’d caught me with those green eyes of hers. Unusual eyes, the green a color splash that hinted at blue, and umber, with a thick rim of hazel. I could see myself reflected in her gaze as the light shone on her face, and I was lost. The heat of her scorched me. The smell of her sweat and the faint odor of a perfume that made no sense to me, but had me thinking about taking her right there in the doorway, floored me. I’d reached up to stroke her arm; to let her know I understood. I’d never seen a person so clearly before.

Synapses in my brain fired as I leaned in closer to her, drowning in her. They screamed at me to pull away, but her gravity pulled me in. Did she feel it too?

Then the guy had called out, and she’d disappeared before I’d been able to find out who she was. I massaged my neck as the man who saved me from her strode toward me.

He stuck his hand out, and I took it. "I’m Tom, the owner here. You signing up?"

"Drake. I used to box out at Lanston. It’s been a while."

"Well, why don’t you get ready, and I’ll meet you in the ring."

I grinned. "Excellent."

He pointed out the change rooms, and I went to get into my gear. Had her hair been brown, or the color of sand? Scratching my jaw, I pondered the question. I hadn’t expected to be sucker punched by the gravity of her. She was magnetic.

I changed my jeans for gym shorts and tossed my T-shirt in my bag. What had gone down could be blocked out by a good fistfight and a cold shower. Grabbing my gloves from my bag, I swung them over my shoulder by their laces and sauntered out of the change rooms. The set up here wasn’t much different from the gym I’d gone to in Lanston, but it was smaller. The guys acknowledged me as I walked past them on the way to the center ring. With any luck, I’d be part of their family before long. I just had to prove myself.

Tom was dancing around throwing air jabs when I slipped between the ropes and started putting on my gloves. The man was fit; his six pack more of an eight-pack, and his shoulders broad and well defined. I was still in good shape, but I’d lost some of the definition over the past year. Rolling out my shoulders, I stretched the muscles in my neck. That definition would come back over the next couple of weeks.

Gloves on, I tested the mat and put my hands up to guard my face.

Tom threw light punches at me, until he realized I hadn’t been talking out my ass when I’d told him I’d boxed before. He grinned as he changed his approach and made me work to keep his hits from landing.

Why had she looked so scared of me?
Tom landed a clear shot to my shoulder in my moment of distraction.

"Who was that girl in here before?" I asked him as I tried to pay more attention to guarding.

He frowned at me as he swung, and I blocked him. "Birdie’s a regular here, and she’s not on the market."

I cocked an eyebrow. "So, you and her?"

He pursed his lips, and I got the distinct impression he wanted the answer to be yes. "No. She has an issue with men, though she tolerates most of us. Give her space and we won’t have a problem."

"Are you telling me that bombshell is a lesbian?" I couldn’t wrap my head around that.

Tom guffawed and put up his hands to block as I danced around him and started warm up jabs.

"Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t think so. Still, you leave her alone, or we’re going to have a problem."

I took the opportunity to sneak a jab to his ribs. That she had issues was clear. It had been written in the open book of her eyes, and the pain that I was all too familiar with had been there too. There wasn’t enough time in the world to deal with my own issues, let alone hers. I’d just wanted someone to warm my bed. It didn’t need to be that girl. The one at the front desk would do just as well. "We're not going to have a problem."