Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Which I might be, honestly, because the sight of my own mask is making me stupidly horny.
I’ve always had a healthy sexual appetite. And I’ve always been able to manage it with liberal usage of my sex toys.
That’s not really working right now.
I want him. My husband. The masked man. Lev. Whoever, whatever, but I want him, and I don’t even like him. Honestly, I think I’m a little terrified of him after seeing what he did to Emory, but still.
I want his hands on my body.
I send the girls some generic description, just enough to appease them, before focusing on my drills some more.
There was a time when I was very good at this. It’s been a while, but I didn’t realize how much I missed being good at something until coming back to it.
Truth is, I’ve drifted. I’ve been spoiled by my father and given an easy path in life. No, I haven’t had much freedom, but I also haven’t really worried about much.
Private schools. Money for clothes and movies and hanging out with my friends. Comfort, basically.
Except fencing challenged me. Fencing was the one time I could stand up and show people what I am. On the piste, it was me against my opponent, and nobody else could step in and say they helped.
If I won, I won because of me. If I lost, I lost because of me.
And that’s intoxicating for a girl that never really had much control over her life.
I could be a warrior and nobody would say a damn thing about it. Nobody cared if I let out the aggression. Honestly, it was expected and encouraged, and that was liberating.
I didn’t have to be the quiet, demure little mafia princess my father always wanted me to be.
I’m still that way though. Acting the way I’m always supposed to. I stumbled from one thing to the next. From my father’s house to my husband’s. And this baby means any shred of freedom I might’ve hoped for is basically going to disappear very soon.
Until then, I have fencing. I have my foil, my form, my body, and my drills.
I watch some training videos just to remind myself what I need to work on, and then I throw myself into it. Stretching, cardio, some light lifting, and then drills. Footwork, forms, blade work, reaction training. All the things I missed so much, the old skills slowly coming back.
I don’t notice him. I’m in my own little world for a couple of hours. One second, I’m doing squats into lunges, and the next Lev’s standing nearby and watching with a curious smile.
Like he’s enjoying it.
I turn to him, breathing hard. “When did you get home?”
“A little while ago. You’re very focused.”
“And you’re a creep.”
He licks his lips. “I like it. When you’re focused like that.”
“Yeah? Good for you. This isn’t a show though. So if you wouldn’t mind?” I feel strong. Even though I’m sweaty, gross, and tired, I feel like I could lift him up over my head and throw him through a wall.
But he doesn’t move. Not that I thought he would. I grab some water and check my phone, my muscles sore and achy from working this hard, and try to tame the adrenaline still coursing through my system.
This is what I get like when I let myself loose.
“Why don’t we spar a little bit?” He picks up my spare foil and flicks it through the air like it’s some kind of dueling weapon.
But that’s not how fencing works. This sport is strictly regulated and controlled. There are rules and protective gear for a reason: people could get hurt.
Like he did.
“No, thanks. You’ll just end up with another hole in your body.”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
“Seriously, that’s okay.”
He points the foil at me. “En garde.”
“I’m good.”
“Afraid you’ll lose?”
I feel a little competitive, but I refuse to let him goad me into this. “How about you do some training first and then maybe I’ll give you a shot at the champ?”
He laughs. It’s a genuine laugh too. I actually like it. Which makes me blush, and I have to look away.
“Give me two days of training, and I bet I could take you.”
“That’s just insulting.”
“How about zero days, and you try me now?”
“Even worse.”
“Your loss.” He places the foil back down. “You look good, you know.”
“Oh, yeah? With a red face and sweaty hair?”
“You look like you’re working hard.”
“The fact that you’re surprised is really pissing me off.” I slump down onto the bench press. “Did you come down here for a reason?”
“I was curious what you looked like when you were fencing.”
“Now you know.” I arch my eyebrows expectantly. “And you’re dismissed.”
He’s still looking at me with that cocky, charming grin though. Except there’s an edge to him now. “You wouldn’t deny him, would you?”
A thrill runs into my core. I sit up a little straighter. “Who do you mean?”