Running Away With You (Running #3) (15 page)

There’s a rather large crowd gathered around watching the two men as they enter the ring.  I guess we didn’t miss anything.  Adam and Derek are standing close by, so Camilla and I weave through the curious spectators and join them. 

Marcus and Evan climb through the ropes and move toward the center.  There they stand, shirtless, with their hands meticulously taped.  Marcus is muttering some sort of instructions to Evan, who’s bouncing on his feet, eager to get started.  “Has Marcus done this before?” I ask.

“Oh, sure.  Marcus has been sparring for years.  It started in the military and he hasn’t stopped since.”  She looks up at her new husband and bites her lip. “Isn’t he hot?” she muses aloud.

“I guess so.”  It’s strange to think of Marcus like that.  He’s like a brother or cousin whom I look up to.  Besides, who can concentrate on anything when Evan McGuire is standing in front of me shirtless?

Marcus is leading Evan in some warm-up exercises, I think.  Evan mirrors everything Marcus does.  They begin with some straight punches into the space in front of them, followed by a few upper cuts and head rolls.  They’re bouncing on their feet the whole time, and it almost appears like the two are dancing to some sort of music only they can hear.

“What are they doing?” I ask.

Adam explains, “Oh, they’re just warming up.  You know, getting their blood flowing and loosening their muscles.  Give it a minute, then they’ll really get started.”

“What have you guys been doing this whole time?”

“We had to wait for the ring.  Someone else had it reserved.  But you know Mac, when he wants something, he finds a way to get it.  I think he had to give away a few tickets to a game for this,” Derek explains.

Marcus has Evan throwing a few jabs, then bending at the knees and rolling his head to the side.  The men move with such grace and ease, all I can think about is tearing off the few articles of clothing Evan still has on and taking him here and now.

Once Marcus seems satisfied, the two men pause to put on their gloves.  Evan comes toward us, and Adam hands him a large red boxing glove.  While Adam secures the glove, I have to ask, “Evan, are you sure this is a good idea?  Suppose you get hurt?”

“We’re not actually going to fight, Juliette.  You’ll see.  Don’t worry, baby.  I know my limits.”

Adam is securing the second glove and I glance a few feet away to see what Marcus is doing.  He’s not putting on gloves – he’s got some sort of pads with straps, one for each hand.  “What’s that?” I ask Derek.

“They’re focus punch mitts.  Marcus won’t be throwing any punches today.  Evan will be throwing punches at the pads and getting a good workout.  Don’t look so panicked, kiddo.  Marcus won’t let Evan hurt his throwing arm, Jette.  He’s in good hands.”

Camilla and I sit down on a bench to watch.  She asks, “So Jette, I’m guessing it didn’t go well in court today?  I have a feeling that we wouldn’t be here right now if it did.”  Camilla wasn’t there, so she has no idea what we heard.

“You could say that.”  I don’t know what else to say. 

“How bad was it?” she asks.

I just shrug.  Derek tells her a little more about what Ryker’s attorney accused me of, and how he’s being held without bail.  “I guarantee,” he tells her, “every one of those punches Evan throws are targeted right at Donovan’s face.  I don’t know how Mac kept his shit together through that circus they called a hearing.”

They finish getting ready, turn, and head back into the ring.  My eyes are glued to the sight of their tight asses as they walk away from us.  Holy hell, how could I never really have noticed how fit and ripped Marcus is?

Marcus holds up one pad and commands, “Jab.”  Evan throws a punch.  He puts the pad down and raises it again quickly. “Again.”  As he does, Evan’s biceps and triceps flex and my core tightens.  I know what it feels like to be wrapped in those strong arms.

Marcus turns and Evan follows.  More commands are issued. “Cross,” and, “Now one, two. Again, one, two. Up now, jab, cross, hook.”  They circle around the ring and I can’t take my eyes off them.  Both well over six feet tall, they rival each other in the best possible way.  Their broad shoulders, toned muscles, and fierce looks of determination are mesmerizing.  Evan’s fair skin and shaggy brown hair is contrasted by Marcus’s dark skin and short, close buzz cut.  We might just be violating a few state and federal laws by having these two drop-dead gorgeous men in the same ring together.   

“Good. Again. Good.  Now move up, jab, cross, hook, uppercut. Good.  Again. Jab, and again. Jab. Good, now cross.  Again, cross. One more cross. Good.”  The commands come quickly and Evan responds to each without hesitation.  He’s a machine.  His muscles bend and flex.  His skin is shimmering with sweat and I watch as small droplets drip from his face.  The air is mixed with testosterone and sweat.  The look on his face is feral and it’s the hottest damned thing I’ve ever seen in my life. 

“Look at them,” Camilla whispers.  “We’re the luckiest girls on the planet.”

When Marcus puts the pads down, I know the exercise is over.  Evan hunches over, places his hands on his knees and stops to catch his breath.  Marcus really did give him a good workout. 

“Damn.  Is it over already?” Camilla complains. 

I nod in agreement and watch as Evan stands back up, approaches Marcus, and pulls him in for a man-hug. They talk quietly for a few moments and Evan’s eyes narrow before he pulls back and nods, offers Marcus a half smile and pats him hard on the shoulder. They both come down off the ring and smile at us.

“Feel better?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Evan shrugs and flashes a cocky smile. “I could have gone longer, but Marcus was ready to quit.”

Adam unties the gloves and tosses them to the side.  The moment his hands are free, he grabs me and pulls me in for a sweaty, grimy hug.  Resistance is futile, so I don’t even bother trying to fight.  He lifts me and kisses me deeply and passionately.  When he finally releases me, I’m dizzy and stunned. 

“Let’s go home, Running Girl.  I have to shower and you have to get ready.”

“Get ready?  For what?”

“A party,” Camilla proclaims.  “You’ve both worked out your frustration – now it’s time to have fun and relax.  My house tonight, after dinner.  And don’t even think about bringing anything.  You two are our guests tonight.”

Adam and Derek drive us back home.  I curl up on Evan’s lap in the back seat while he plays with my hair.  We had a horrible morning, but feeling his strong arms and gentle touch is all the medicine I need to make things right.

Building Bridges

I
t’s times like this that I treasure.  The two of us getting dressed together, getting ready for a night out with our friends.  It brings me so much joy to see how well our lives have weaved together.  His home is my home.  My friends are his friends.  Our lives have become one.

Thankfully, we’re both in great moods.  Evan is playful and silly, pinching my ass and grabbing my boobs whenever he’s near me.  I love feeling young and normal.  We hardy ever get to behave this way.

Evan is shirtless again as he finishes getting ready in the master bath.  He’s left the door open and I watch, mesmerized, as he shaves.  I gaze at his bare feet, his unbuttoned jeans, the happy-trail of tiny hairs that disappear below his waistband, and the focused look on his face as he stands at the sink.  There is something intimate and erotic about watching a man shave. 

He’s got his iPod plugged into the wall dock, filling the room with the Eagle’s “Hotel California” as he spreads the shaving cream across his face, careful not to miss any spots.  He grabs his razor, runs it under the steaming-hot water, and meticulously begins to remove the white foamy lather.  His eyes are fixated and he has no idea that I am watching him.  He’s humming along and I’m enjoying the show.

These precious moments are the ones I will cherish forever.  Evan has taken me to exclusive restaurants, introduced me to multitudes of celebrities, and showered me with gifts.  But none of those can compare to this simple act.  This is my man, my future husband, and nothing brings me more joy.

As he makes the last pass with the razor, I decide to join him.  I drop my robe and slink into the bathroom beside him wearing nothing but my bra and panties.  When he looks up from the sink and into the mirror, he smiles when he sees my reflection beside his own.  “I thought you were getting ready.”

I hand him a towel to dry his face, take his aftershave, and pour a generous amount into the palm of my hand.  “I was, but I thought you could use a little help.”

He steps back from the sink, giving me just enough room to work.  As I’m working the lotion between my hands, he gently lifts me and places my ass on the counter.  I spread the musky lotion across his face, rubbing gently.  He lifts his chin and I move down his neck as he caresses the gentle curves of my bare skin.

I love the silky smooth feel of his skin just after he shaves.  In just a few hours, a hint of a scruff will appear and I know he will use that as a weapon to tease and torture me in bed later tonight.

I use the little lotion that’s left to massage his broad shoulders.  Taking advantage of his playful mood, I slide my hands down his chest and find the growing erection pressing against the denim.  A few playful strokes, and I know he’s putty in my hands.

“Any more of that and we’re going to be late.  Very late,” he breathes in my ear as he begins to nibble on the sensitive flesh beneath. 

“I’m okay with that.”  I release the zipper on his jeans and his erection springs to life.  Evan throws his head back as I work my hand up and down while he releases soft moans of pleasure that make me wet with anticipation.

He reaches up and pulls down the cup of my bra, freeing my breast so he can bring his mouth down on it immediately.  With his free hand, he slips aside my silk panties and tests my readiness.  When Evan slides a finger inside me, I tilt my hips and open up for him.  When he adds a second finger, my legs begin to shake.

Suddenly he stops and takes a step back, leaving me empty and void without his touch.  He kicks off his jeans and sends them flying across the room.  He steps back to me, placing himself between my knees, his erection full and heavy.

Evan places one arm beneath each knee and gently slides me to the edge of the counter, arm muscles flexing and pressing against my heat.  His eyes mirror the ocean of lust that is dripping from my own before they drift down my mostly nude frame.  He is drinking me in and I quiver as his gaze settles on my sex. I give up complete control to him and the sensation is exhilarating.  I feel carnal.  I feel wanted. 

I reach down and rub my thumb across the pearly liquid on the tip of his hardness and slide my hand enthusiastically up and down while he continues to pump his fingers wildly in and out of me.  I look up into his eyes and discover he’s watching my expressive reaction to his touch. 

My core is pulsing with need and desire.  I release him and hook my legs around his waist and pull him even closer, desperate to make the connection that will satisfy my growing impatience. 

Evan slowly slides his fingers from me, grabs his cock, and presses it against me, circling around my entrance, spreading my wetness, and teasing me.

“You’re so beautiful,” Evan whispers into my mouth.  I run my fingers through his hair, pulling and stroking it with the same rhythm as the throb deep in my pelvis as he kisses me deeply, our tongues teasing and tasting.

When I move my hands down to his ass and run my nails across his flesh, he moans loudly.  I feel his muscles tense, and with a swift plunge he’s deep inside me.  I gasp in shock at the sudden fullness, holding on to the counter and shuddering against him. 

Both eager and desperate for comfort and release, we speed up, his hips moving faster against mine, creating the most delightful friction.  I slip from one orgasm into another with only the briefest pause between. 

“Oh yes, Evan!” I call as the second orgasm quakes through my body with an intensity I hadn’t imagined possible. I feel my muscles tighten against him.  He rams into me and stills as he finds his release, air hissing through his teeth.

We stay there, motionless, locked together for the longest time.  “Don’t move,” Evan instructs as he slowly slips from my possession.  He steps over toward the shower and I hear the water running. 

Before I have time to wonder what he has planned, the water stops and he returns carrying a soapy washcloth.  It’s warm and soft as he presses it against me, removing all traces of our lovemaking.  He dries me with a fluffy towel and places me gingerly back on my feet, sweeping me up in his arms and pressing his full lips against mine.

With a smack on the ass he orders me to get dressed so we can go.  I adjust my bra and change my panties before slipping on a blue shift dress that reminds me of Evan’s sapphire-blue eyes.  I pull on a pair of gray knee-high boots and return to the bathroom to apply my makeup.

I look at myself in the mirror. My post-orgasm glow has added a beautiful shade of crimson that mixes well with the hint of bronzer I apply to my cheeks. Evan stands behind me, fully dressed, inspecting me.  “Hmm, not bad, not bad.  But something is missing,” he teases.