Page 36 of Break the Ice
The gym is a large, bright utilitarian space, all clean lines and polished concrete, the kind of place where effort has a hum. Big speakers hang from the pillars and push a punchy beat through the air. Racks of unfamiliar machines gleam under the lights, and in the far corner Jayden is already a metronome of motion, sweat shining along his temples.
“You got here just in time for the warmup,” he announces when Elijah guides me toward him, his hand hovering at the small of my back like a promise he’s not quite ready to make.
Jayden wears a cocky grin that hikes higher every time he waggles his brows. The bruising from Florida has faded to faint shadows under his eyes, and even with the extra bump across his nose, he’s handsome in that easy, open way that invites you to smile back. He spins the jump rope overhead in time with the music, the royal blue Comets tank rustling against his torso as he turns. When the hem lifts, I catch a flash of tan skin above his shorts.
My goodness…
I don’t need more than that to see he’s as built as Elijah—just a touch softer around the edges, the definition less cut but no less compelling. I’m stuck in place, watching him skip to the steady snap of rope against rubber. His grin widens, mischief brightening his eyes when his stare hooks mine.
“Goddamn show off,” Elijah chuckles, a thread of gravel in it, as he moves around me to the wall of ropes and resistance straps. He wraps the padded cuffs around his ankles and wrists, then crosses to a treadmill on the opposite side.
“Don’t be salty cause you don’t have my swagger,” Jayden calls over his shoulder, still swinging the rope, still perfect with the rhythm.
I track Elijah instead. The treadmill starts at an easy lope. White sneakers land in clean, even beats. He looks relaxed here, body finding its groove before his mind can interfere.
“Give it some attitude, Sylkes,” Jayden hollers over the music.
“Put your back into warming up, jackass,” Elijah throws back, the smile in his voice landing warm in my chest.
That pancake-day giddiness starts bubbling again. Even though I’ve had time to get used to the sight of Elijah in nothing but a towel—low enough that my eyes refused to leave the deep lines bracketing his hips—I still go slack at him on the treadmill. My gaze lingers on strong calves and the easy piston of muscle.
Everything about him is power contained.
The tank pulls over his back, the fabric stretching as his shoulders roll. In the mirror I catch the faint quirk of his mouth as he raps along to the song.
Sweet Lord.
I can’t remember the last time I saw him this unruffled, this light catching at his eyes, the corners softening.
Did he always move to music like this, and I just never saw? The Elders would have had a field day.
Sometimes he feels split in two: the distant, reclusive man who makes my chest ache… and this looser, brighter version who makes my lungs fizz with a single smile.
Heat pricks across my skin, humming through my muscles as Elijah’s gaze flicks from the mirror to Jayden. I realize then that Jayden is watching me while he keeps the rope cutting air in clean arcs.
“Come on, Lucky,” Jayden beckons with a crook of his finger when the song shifts slower.
The new beat is kinder, easier to catch. He rocks his shoulders and the sheen along his skin glints under the lights. When he swaggers up and dips to take my hands, singing along, a shiver rolls through me.
His nearness scrambles every learned grace I own. I go still, afraid of doing it wrong. My eyes flick to Elijah. His small nod and easy smile ease the tightness in my ribs.
“You know how to jump rope, right?” Jayden asks, his breath warm against my jaw—mint and a hint of licorice—while he closes my fingers around the handles.
I nod.
“Good. Think of this as skipping rope and hopscotch combined. It’s the best cardio and gives every muscle in the arm an easy workout, even your deltoids, you know?”
“Deltoids… right…”No clue.
Jayden chuckles. “They’re the muscles along the curve of your shoulders,” he says, tracing a hover-light line along the outer cap. “You have your triceps back here. Then your biceps at the front. And on your forearms—” He steps back and curls his arm, veins roping. “—you have the brachioradialis. AKA, the forearm flexor.”
Wink.
“JJ knows every muscle, except the one here,” Elijah laughs, tapping his temple.
The teasing lifts a snort out of me before I can stop it. My cheeks go hot, and I stare at the floor.
“Asshole,” Jayden shoots back, flipping Elijah off as he retreats.
