☆✮ Excerpt ✮☆
Once I get to the bottom of the steps, I look around the corner to see him standing shirtless and sweaty, with his back muscles flexing as he continues to beat the big black bag in front of him.
Each swing seems to pack more heat as he continues to work out his anger. I’ve never seen him shirtless and holy fucking shit; it has rendered me speechless just from his back alone.
Every single muscle in his back is defined and flexed as he steadily hits the bag in front of him stopping occasionally to wipe the sweat from his forehead. There’s also a huge tattoo that reaches across his back that says Never back down. Fight. And the O from the word “down” turns into a pink ribbon for breast cancer.
It causes my anger toward him to slowly fade and for me to be able to take in the beauty in front of me. He’s obviously had someone in his family battle breast cancer and seeing the ribbon on his back just proves how supportive he must have been. This is real beauty to me.
I find myself grabbing for my camera, pulling the lens cap off and snapping a few pictures of him from behind. With each move that he makes, the pictures only seem to become more stunning to me. I continue to snap a few shots until he freezes and grips the bag.
Wanting to capture his face, I snap a few shots as he turns around. The look on his face is both intense and damn sexy at the same time. He flexes his jaw and takes a few steps toward me, stopping a few feet in front of me. His icy eyes bore into mine, sweat running over his eyelids and down his strong facial features.
“I thought I told you to stay upstairs? Dammit, Lyric.” His voice is thick and harsh as he fights to catch his breath.
I swallow as he grabs my camera and takes it off from around my neck, setting it down onto oh his dresser. My treacherous eyes wander down to his stiff chest and abs, landing directly on the V of muscle leading down to his jeans. The little moist patch of brown hair, almost causes my mouth to water as I think about what it leads to. It’s barely there, but is enough to catch my attention.
“I’m leaving,” I blurt out, unsure of how to act now that my resolve has crumbled. “I was coming to let you know. Now give me my camera so I can go.”
He walks forward until I’m backed up against the wall, with his arms pinning me in. He inhales a deep breath and leans down so that his lips are just inches above mine. Our bodies aren’t touching, yet my stupid body is reacting as if we are. My breathing picks up as I smell his minty breath mixed with hard liquor as it brushes against my lips.
“You like taking pictures of me, Lyric?” He presses his body a little closer, but still doesn’t touch me. Call me crazy, but my body is screaming for him to at this point. “I can take my clothes off right now and let you take as many pictures as you want as long as you promise to keep my jacket on. Is that what you want? Huh, Lyric? Because that is all I can do for you.”
☆✮ Teasers ✮☆
☆✮ About the Author ✮☆
Victoria Ashley grew up in Rockford, IL and has had a passion for reading for as long as she can remember. After finding a reading app where it allowed readers to upload their own stories, she gave it a shot and writing became her passion.
She lives for a good romance book with tattooed bad boys that are just highly misunderstood and is not afraid to be caught crying during a good read. When she's not reading or writing about bad boys, you can find her watching her favorite shows such as Sons Of Anarchy, Dexter and True Blood.
She is the author of Wake Up Call and This Regret and is currently working on more works for 2014.