Legacy: A Salvation Society Novel by Rachel Robinson & Salvation Society

Author:Rachel Robinson & Salvation Society [Robinson, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wild Thorns Press
Published: 2020-10-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Aarabelle

The white sports bra snaps into place as I pace the stone floor in my new mansion-sized bedroom. It’s about the size of my entire condo if you count the bathroom with ornate gold columns and a claw-footed tub that could pass as a swimming pool. My suitcase sits open inside the walk-in closet. I rifle through it for my Nike trainers. Lacing them on, I stop in front of an oval mirror. This is what a liar looks like, I think. I slick my wet hair into a giant top-knot and then flex my muscles from different angles. Sighing, I walk over to the bed where Clement sits next to my cell.

My mom called, but I didn’t answer. She talked to my dad and I’m sure she has words for me. I ignore it, and pull an arm across my body to stretch, then repeat on the other side. I’m sick of worrying about every single detail of my life. Everything planned or guided by a set of directives. My body is warring with my mind. The need to kiss him, touch him, be underneath him is greater than my sensibilities.

When I exit my room, I see the light on down the hall to my right. The door to the gym is open and there are two protein shakes on the high-top table when I enter. Mine is the vanilla one, I recognize the scent, and begin drinking it as I take in the expanse of this room and the amount of equipment at my disposal. I’m walking by the plates, taking stock of what I have to work with when the speakers start thrumming an old nineties song.

“I think I like this look more than the bikini,” he says, turning his head to the side like a bird as he studies me. My core lurches to life. A look. A casual thing sends me into overdrive. I squeeze my thighs together, crossing my legs at the ankle. Hart notices. The feral swagger goes into overdrive.

I roll my eyes and keep drinking—trying to keep my cool. My black workout shorts are short, but they definitely cover more ass than a bikini. I notice he’s not drinking his shake, he’s still watching me with hawk eyes. He’s still shirtless, because I’m learning that’s his natural state outside of public. His voice is a rumble. “How much do you weigh?”

That gets my attention. “That’s one of the rudest questions you can ask a woman.”

He licks his lips. “I bet I can bench press you.”

I suck the remaining shake through my straw as his gaze lingers on my mouth. “Of course, you can. What are you throwing up? Three-Fifty? Four hundred? I’m a fraction of your max.”

“Okay, so partner workout then?”

I cringe, setting my cup down on a different table in front of a television that’s switched off. “I don’t workout with anyone, Hart. More of a lone wolf in the land of weight racks.”

“So am I. Let’s try something new. Roomie.

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