Too Consumed (4 page)

I push through the doors and into
the gym. The strange smell I usually notice first is masked by frangipani—or lavender—some kind of girly scent. Olivia has been trying to ‘freshen’ the gym for weeks now and this smell is definitely not working for me. I scan the room. In the far corner by the boxing ring, Darryl is taking a phone call—one he doesn’t seem too pleased with, and my sparring partners are stretching on the mat beside him. They have it easy today. I don’t think I have it in me to knock anyone out. I glance around the rest of the gym—two chubby men stroll lazily on the treadmills and a woman is going hard out on the elliptical. I frown, confused why Olivia isn’t here. I want to see her before I train…I feel stupid just thinking that, we aren’t inseparable…I just…I don’t know. I guess that’s what it’s like being in love. You need to see that person everyday—every second. If you don’t, you feel kind of empty…kind of incomplete.

Jesus-fucking-
christ. Listen to me! I sound like a pussy…but it’s true.
I feel incomplete…or at least I do until my gaze settles on a pair of bare thighs flowing endlessly out of tiny, black shorts as she bends over a rowing machine. It’s
her
and I’m willing to bet my entire pro season earnings on it. I’ve seen her from this glorious angle too many times to not be certain.

Suddenly pleased with how my morning is turning out, I draw nearer, my eyes zeroing in on the small ga
p between her thighs. Over and over I have to remind myself that we’re in public. My fingers twitch, desperate to act of their own accord and slip between her legs. Instead, I rest my hand on the small of her back. Her skin is soft and warm under my palm and I feel her body go rigid as she slowly turns her head. When she makes eye contact with me, her green orbs brighten and she straightens herself before throwing her arms around my neck.

“You scared me!” She
says, squeezing me against her.

I
wrap my arms around her waist and she pulls away, but I don’t let her go. “Did you see the billboard?”

I feel my face pull together.
“I did…they don’t have any smaller ones?”

She half frowns, half smiles. “I’m sure they do,
but I ordered the biggest.”

“Of course you did.”

Her lips curl into a mocking smirk. “Are you embarrassed, Mr. Marc?”

“Do I look embarrassed? Sorry, I was going for humble.”

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” She shrugs. “I think it's sexy.”

“Well, I
think your shorts are sexy and I deem them inappropriate for the workplace.” She rolls her eyes and the palms of my hands find their way down her back, stopping on her firm ass. “Your ass is a hazard.”

She giggles
at my lame line, catching her plump bottom lip between her teeth as her hands grip my hands, dragging them up to rest on her hips. “There are times and places for everything.”

“I agree.” I lower my mouth to her ear and I feel her tense against me. “I’ve never done it in a gym.”

“Seth, people are watching.”

My lips twitch upwards at the sound of her breathless voice.
“Let them.”

I pull back, sliding my hands up the contour of her perfect body, before slipping them
to either side of her neck. Her eyes are heavy, her plump lips parted to let through a slow, controlled breath and it exposes her teeth slightly, so flawless and white.

“Olivia?”

A husky male voice draws my attention to the door and I watch cautiously as a tall, lean, and over-excited guy struts towards us. I feel Olivia’s gaze drag from my face to his and she takes a step back. I drop my hands to my sides and watch curiously as he pulls Olivia into a hug. It isn’t a seedy hug—it resembles the kind of hug a brother would give a sister, but the gleam in his eye is unsettling.

“
Brad, this is my boyfriend, Seth. Seth, this is Brad. He’s a friend of my brother’s,” she says after they rattle off a very brief catch up and condolences for Rick.

Brad flicks his fingers through the front of his coppe
r hair before extending the same hand to me. I glance at it briefly before putting my hand in his.

“You’
re the guy on the billboard out front?”

I fight the urge t
o cringe, taking my hand back.
I should be proud of it, not ashamed.
“Yep.”

“Cool, bro, that’
s admirable. How hard you hit?”

I shrug. “Get in the ring and I’ll show you.”

Brad laughs nervously and O steps beside me, resting a hand on my arm.

“
I’ll pass, thanks. Maybe next time,” Brad says.

I analyze his face as he turns his attention to Olivia
, flicking it awkwardly to me a few times—thick, bushy eyebrows, a slender nose and bright yellow-green eyes…his catlike features unnerve me.

“Anyway, I’
m scouting for a new gym and I thought I’d pop in here and give it a go. I like the environment and the people.” He flicks his eyebrows at Olivia. “Maybe I’ll stick around.”

I cross my arms and Olivia leans into me, laughing like he said something funny. I didn’t hea
r anything remotely funny come from his thin lips. Am I missing some kind of personal joke?

“Come, I’
ll show you the gym.” Olivia hooks her elbow around Brad’s and glances at me over her shoulder. “I’ll talk to you soon,” she says, her voice broken with a giggle. “You’re late and Darryl is pissed.”

I watch as she walks with Brad around the gym, laughing and blushing as she points out equipment and doors. Every now and then, their eyes flit to me before returning to their conversation.
It’s bothering me more than it should. I’ve never felt jealousy before I became interested in Olivia. I don’t do jealousy. I’m a detached, hit it and quit it kind of guy—or at least I used to be. I don’t like the way jealousy affects me. I hate the anger it stirs—I hate the fact that it makes me want to throw Olivia on the floor and take her in front of everyone just to make a statement. I exhale. I sound like a fucking psycho…and I am when it comes to her.

“Seth!” Darryl shouts, drawing my attention.
He slips his phone into his pocket. “You’re late. Shirt off, gloves on, let’s go!”

Reluctantly, I stroll over to the boxing ring and pull my shirt over my head. I keep my head down and focus on wrapping my hands correctly instead of obsessively watching
Olivia and Brad waltz around the gym.

Darryl brings my gloves and
head gear. I take my gloves, but ignore the other item in his hand.

“This isn’t the amateurs anymore
, Seth, you have to wear your gear. You can’t afford to get hurt in training. Not to mention you have interviews and press conferences coming up—”

“I don’t want the head gea
r. He’s not going to touch me.”

Darryl drops the head gear with a sigh. “You’re too damn cocky for your own good.”

I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. I like Darryl, mostly because he reminds me of my father. Okay, that comparison isn’t accurate. There’s a big difference between Dad and Darryl. Darryl tells me how proud he is of me on a regular basis. Dad, however, has only said it twice. Once when I was six and I went to the dentist’s for the first time and the second time on his death bed—‘
I’m proud of your determination, but I’m not proud of your choices.
’ Fair call, I’ve made some pretty shitty choices. Before Mom went off the tracks, I drank way too much, partied way too hard, and I slept with way too many girls. I have no reasons for it. Growing up, my home life was perfect, well,
almost
perfect. Maddi, my sister, was the ‘golden child.’ My parents bent over backwards for her. Maddi had always wanted to be a lawyer like Mom and my parents (being huge on success) nurtured her as much as they could. When they asked me what I wanted to be, my answer was always different. One week it was a race car driver. The next, a cage fighter. Hell, I even think I told them I wanted to be a mob boss at one point. My point is, I was never treated equally to my sister. When I told Dad about my plans to be a professional MMA fighter, he was hesitant until I went off in a long speech about discipline and determination. When he saw how serious and passionate I was, he agreed to be a part of it. He studied long and hard on the art of MMA and ended up knowing more than me, teaching me things I didn’t know. Quickly, Dad and I grew close and it was like the last seventeen years of our tense relationship didn’t exist.

I loved it.
I loved seeing him smile at me, his eyes gleaming with pride. Sadly, our easy relationship was short-lived. Being a surgeon and having to deal with death regularly, my Dad attended habitual therapy sessions. One night, he invited me to go with him. He wanted me to see what he had to deal with, how determined and passionate he was about his job, considering he never spoke about work outside of his therapy sessions.

“It’s too stressful
,” he’d always say when I asked.

The office was nearing close time
…and Dad and I were sitting in the waiting room. There was no receptionist, apparently typical for that time of night, so he sent me to find Mason. I strolled around the practice before I entered his office. I don’t regret a lot of things in my life because at the time I’ve done them, it was exactly what I wanted, but I do regret the events that followed. The events that followed me entering Mason’s office destroyed any relationship I’d built with my father. I don’t blame Mason’s wife—even though she should have been a little more respectful of her marriage—I only blame myself. I was young, horny, and stupid.
So fucking stupid.

My lungs burn as ai
r is forced from them and I hunch over, blowing air from my cheeks.
What the fuck?
I straighten myself and my spar partner, Dave, locks eyes with me. He seems almost scared that he touched me. Fuck knows why, he’s at least three times the size of me.

“Nice shot
,” I groan, running my hands over my face.

I need to wake up.

“Pay attention,” Darryl orders from the sidelines. “Keep your hands up.”

I bring my fists up and loosen my posture. He isn’t going to get another hit on me. That I guarantee.

“Hello stranger,” she purrs, stepping closer. “Looking for Dr
. Peterson?”

My eyes rake the woman before me in a tight, red dress and the highest pair of heels I’ve ever seen. If there was a picture beside trophy wife on urbandictionary.com, it’d be a picture of her.
She drags her long, blonde hair over one shoulder, her hips swaying as she saunters toward me. There’s a curve on the corner of her lips—a confident curve—like she knows what’s going to happen before I even open my mouth.

“Mason is out right now—and he skipped on dinner
with his wife again.”

I don’t talk to her, only watch
as she pouts sarcastically.

“So you can imagine how pissed off and
…” her gaze drags down the length of my body before returning to my face. I barely acknowledge my cock twitching in my pants. “Unsatisfied I am.”

I swallow hard as her hands press against my chest and glide downward until her finger curl
s around the hem of my jeans.

“
Although young, you look like you can satisfy me…”

Her eyebrow quirks, silently asking me for my name.

“Seth
,” I tell her.

She smiles the kind of smile that should have sent me running.
She smiles a wide, wolfish and hungry smile that tugs at my nerves
…among many other things.

“Seth…” she says in a husky whisper, bringing her mouth closer to mine. I smell the alcohol on her breath and I know I should leave…but I don’t. She sucks my bottom lip between hers and I keep my eyes open, locked on her espresso black irises as she pops the button on my jeans. “That’s a sexy name.”

My nerves skyrocket at the thought of Dad walking through the door any second now and
I grab her small wrists in my hands. “Don’t.”

Her over-plucked brow cocks. “Don’t?
” Her eyes flare. “You say it, but I know you don’t mean it.”

She kisses my chin, before slowly dropping to her knees.
I look down at her as she glances up at me through hooded eyes and releases me from my jeans.

“Do you like to feel good, Seth? Because I’m going to make you feel real good and then you’re going to return the favor.”

I know I shouldn’t do it. I know it’s wrong and beyond fucked up, but I’m too hard to walk away. I figure, if I do this quickly and then get back to Dad—no harm done.

Her lips wrap around me, coating my bare skin in slick, wet saliva. A groan slips from my throat
and her fingers dig into my legs as she takes me all the way to the back of her throat. I grit my teeth against a shiver threatening to overcome me and grab a fistful of her soft hair, forcing her to move faster and harder. She moans, almost sending me over the edge, but I’m not done. Not until I make her feel as good as she’s making me feel. All rational thoughts fly out the window the moment her warm tongue wraps around the tip and a dark hunger is released inside of me. I force the woman roughly to her feet. She drags an index finger along her bottom lip and I grip her hips as she wraps her arms around my neck. I push her backwards, passing the couches and going straight to Mason’s desk. As she slides onto the table, I pull back and reach for the wallet in my back pocket. While she tugs her pathetic excuse for underwear down her legs, I find a condom and slip the wallet back into my pocket. I waste no time in ripping the foil and rolling it on. Within seconds I’m between her thighs and pushing my way inside her. No thoughts fill my mind—nothing that will bring me back to my senses, anyway. I avoid kissing her mouth in respect of her marriage—I almost cringe.