Page 35 of Nailed

My eyes flickered to the gym entrance. Those sneaky fucks would look for any chance to try and get their hooks into me again, but I'd rather they found me away from the firehouse. The thought of them going there instead broke out a sheen of cold sweat on the back of my neck that had nothing to do with the workout I just powered through.

My phone buzzed in my gym bag with a text and I fished it out. Lauren?

Ballbuster: Hey. Where are you right now?

Me: It's late, Lauren. Is this a booty-call?

Ballbuster: Don't flatter yourself. Seriously though, where are you?

Me: The gym. If it is a booty-call, I expect flowers at least.

I chuckled at the thought of what her face might look like when she read my reply, then tossed my phone back in the bag and got onto the Smith machine and decided to push myself to do a few bench presses.

It wasn't enough. I was exhausted but my mind was still running wild with the possibilities of what that tip-off from Thorne entailed. I didn't know how I was going to face this without torpedoing the little bit of stability I'd managed to earn for myself in the years since. It'd been fourteen altogether. I wasn't about to lose anymore.

When I finally dragged myself to the shower, my mind wasn't any less busy than it'd been before despite the exhaustion of my body. Not even the jets of hot water managed to soothe the tension from my muscles the way it usually did.

I got cleaned up, even washed the sweat from my hair. After probably too long, I reached for the towel I'd slung over the rail, only to realize it was gone.

I blinked the water from my eyes and looked around, thinking it'd fallen somewhere.

“Looking for something?”

I turned around to see Lauren holding it hostage, a small smirk on her face. I guess she wasn't kidding about the booty-call.

“So you were serious?” I commented, then pretended to look around her. “I don't see any flowers, by the way.”

“I wasn't sure what to get you. What do ex jailbirds like other than killing themselves in the gym at ten at night?” she mused.

My eyes widened, my heart stopping in my chest.

“You know about that,” I said flatly.

She nodded.

I watched her carefully, trying to see if I could pick up on any of her thoughts. She didn't look at me with the kind of judgment I'd grown used to since I was released from Stateville. She didn't look scared or put off.

In fact, the only thing I could pick up on is that she looked very, very turned on.

I wanted to ask her how she found out. I wanted to ask her what she thought about it all and how much she knew.

But she was looking at me like she wanted to devour me and finally, the background noise of my mind was starting to die down.

“You planning on holding onto that towel?” I asked.

She nodded, throwing it off to the side like a gauntlet. A slow smile spread on my face. Well, if she didn't want me to get dry, I supposed I'd have to get her wet.

I stepped toward her in one single movement, grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the shower with me. She immediately wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me.

Oh, this was what I needed. She was exactly what I needed.

Lauren's body drove away the storm of anxiety that had been clouding my mind and all I could think about was the slickness of her now soaking clothes, the heat of her and the taste of her mouth. She'd been drinking. I ran my tongue across her bottom lip, chasing the ghost of whatever she'd been sipping on.

She wrapped a leg around my waist and I lifted her up, shoving her against the wall of the shower with a thud that I felt against my chest. She groaned at the impact and I buried my face in her neck.

She bit down on my shoulder, then soothed her tongue over it instantly. The steam and hot water at my back combined with the shot of pain and pleasure had my head swimming in the best way possible.

“Couldn't stay away, huh?” I asked, mouthing her breast through the wet material of her shirt. She gasped at the sensation and pulled my head closer.