Breaking Beast (Pounding Hearts 4)

“No, I’m good,” I say, pulling away.

I watch his eyes fill with sudden realization. He looks down at his hands and nearly jumps away from me, like I’m toxic or something.

There’s this weird, uncomfortable moment. The air is charged between us as we stare at each other.

Then Muffin barks, breaking it.

I wince, the sound cutting right through my poor brain.

“You want some Advil before we head out?” he asks, turning away.

“You didn’t run yet?” I ask, surprised.

“No, I was waiting on you.”

“Oh.”

Muffin barks at us again and scratches at the door.

“The HMIC is getting impatient. You want some Advil?” he asks again.

I turn the offer down. “No, I’m okay. Once I start running, the pain should fade away.”

“Alright,” he sighs and walks up to Muffin, giving her a pat on the head. “Let’s get going.”

He pushes open the door and Muffin darts out, squeezing past him.

Looking at me over his shoulder, he flashes a grin. “Keep up if you can.”

The two of them take off, leaving me in their dust.

For a moment, I consider just letting them run ahead of me. I could use the time alone to clear my head and get my shit together.

But his parting words were clearly a challenge, and I have such a hard time backing down from a challenge, especially from a guy like him.

What? Does he think I can’t keep up because I’m a girl?

Fuck that. I’ll show him.

Closing the door behind me, I take off, feet pounding the pavement. The cool air hits my lungs and immediately I feel invigorated.

I feel alive.

I love running. I love the rush of adrenaline. I love the little burn in my joints.

I especially love the numbness that settles over my brain. The worry fades away and my animal instincts take over.

With each step forward I’m putting my past behind me. There’s no looking back, I can only go forward.

My pace is a bit harder than I’d prefer to start at but it’s only to catch up with them. I suspect he’s taking it easy on me because I catch up to them in a matter of seconds.

He glances over at me in surprise. I flash him my own version of a grin and push my body harder, edging past him.

Muffin barks excitedly and the next thing you know our little jog turns into a full-blown race.

I guess Alex isn’t content with letting me have the lead. I hear him mutter something under his breath and then his shadow is overtaking mine. I push myself harder, faster, stubbornly refusing to let him pass.

For a big guy he sure does run fast.

I manage to hold on to the lead for a couple of miles before my strength begins to flag. My pace just isn’t sustainable and I knew it from the beginning. This isn’t jogging, this is more like sprinting.

As I begin to slow, I fully expect him to overtake me, to gloat about his superiority, but he doesn’t.

His pace slows as well, matching me stride for stride.

Is he tiring too or is he letting me win?

I glance behind me. His face is hard, his eyes pointed down, and his jaw set with determination.

He certainly looks like he’s trying, but…

If he’s letting me win, I’m so going to be pissed.

Looking forward, I focus on the horizon. Thoughts fade away, I get lost in the numbness.

A few minutes later, I spot his house in the distance and feel just a little pang of disappointment. I could go a bit longer but don’t have the energy for another full lap.

Slowing down to a walk, I sense him come up beside me, matching my rhythm. We walk the last few feet together, side by side, the three of us panting as we catch our breath.

“Did you let me win?” I ask, stopping as we reach the front of his house.

Bending forward, I place my hands on my thighs and stare at the ground. I’m feeling just a little bit lightheaded after that.

Perhaps I pushed myself a little too hard…

“Nah. I just didn’t feel like running that fast,” he chuckles.

I look up from the ground and immediately get an eyeful of his glistening eight-pack. He’s yanking his shirt up and using it to wipe the sweat from his face.

All of his rippling muscles are on display and I feel a hot flush roll through my body as I stare at him.

I can count each bulging muscle of his eight-pack, and there’s these two delicious grooves at his hips that disappear beneath the waistband of his pants. I want to follow them, and maybe lick them.

Damn. I don’t know why I feel all warm and tingly looking at him. I see shirtless guys at the gym all the time, but none of them have ever made me feel like this.

“What time do you have to be at work?” he asks and begins to drop his shirt.