Page 27 of When He Was Mine

“Around 7:30,” he answered casually.

“Why did you get up so early?” I frowned, not understanding why he would leave our cozy bed.

“Because my gorgeous fiancée is corrupting me, and I’m missing my daily workouts. I might have to start going in the afternoons again,” he teased, his eyes twinkling.

“Maybe we should go together after work. I haven’t worked out much since we’ve been together. With all the food you feed me, I’m going to gain weight,” I said, poking at my belly playfully.

“You’re beautiful, and you could use a few more pounds,” he replied, smiling softly.

“Says you. So, can we work out together?” I asked, sitting up slightly.

“Sure. Do you have a gym you like to go to?” he asked, leaning against the closet door.

“I used to work out at the college and then a gym near it,” I said, thinking back.

“You can come to mine, but Bronson is out. Find another trainer,” he said firmly.

“I don’t need a trainer,” I protested.

“You should try Brad. He’s the owner of the gym,” Oliver suggested.

“Is he handsome?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

“As a matter of fact, he is, but he’s also gay, so you’ll get nowhere,” Oliver retorted with a grin.

“As long as he’s nice to look at,” I quipped, winking.

“You are sounding quite superficial, Miss Stewart,” he said, crossing his arms and giving me a mock stern look.

“Well, if you must know, Mr. Fox, I only have eyes for your hard body,” I replied, my voice dripping with playful seduction.

Oliver whipped off his towel, revealing his gloriously naked body. “You just love to tease me,” he said, his tone challenging.

“You’re pretty good at it yourself,” I shot back.

He went to the closet, and I heard drawers opening and closing. I remained in bed, snuggled under the comfortable soft sheets and dark blue quilt. When Oliver finally emerged, he was dressed casually in a pair of gray sweatpants and a black short-sleeved t-shirt. The mattress dipped as he sat down next to me, and my eyes fluttered open.

“Did you have any plans for today?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

“Not really. I thought we could just relax,” I said, smiling up at him.

“That sounds perfect,” he said, leaning down to press a tender kiss to my lips before he got up and left the bedroom. I didn’t feel like getting up even though it was now close to 9:30. It was Saturday and I wanted to sleep some more. Often in college, we would stay up until 4:00 a.m. and sleep until the midafternoon, only to do it again the next night.

I turned over onto my side and curled the quilt around my body, falling back into a deep sleep. I was startled awake by Oliver’s loud voice. This time it was not only his that I heard. I jumped up and pulled on Oliver’s white terry cloth robe that was hanging on the back of the bathroom door. I cinched the waist as I hurried down the hall, my feet slapping against the wood floor.

I got there just as Jonah pushed Oliver in the chest, making him slide on the floor in his socks. If I didn’t stop them, there would be all out war. Both men’s faces were bright red and as soon as Oliver recovered, he charged Jonah, screaming curses at him.

“Stop it!” I screamed as my fiancé barreled into the slightly smaller man. They both went sprawling to the floor with a loud thud. Oliver was on top of Jonah and getting ready to punch him when I dug my nails into his muscular forearm. That gave his brother the chance to spin his body, knocking Oliver off and sending him back into me. I was pushed to the floor as his body landed on mine.

My hand was bent and sandwiched between us causing me to howl in pain. The sparring men stopped to pay attention to me as I cradled my wrist in my other hand.

“Fuck, you see what you did?” Oliver screamed at Jonah.

“Me? Why can’t you just listen?”

“Stop fighting,” I cried out, tears rolling down my cheeks. The pain was intense, and I wondered if my wrist was broken.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

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